A Boy Named Happy (part two)

Later that day we got back on the bikes and rode the same 4km to the church once again. The afternoon session was to look a little different for us. After teaching our English lesson we walked with most of the children from the church to Sukhun’s house where his mother awaited us, along with a couple he affectionately called his second mother and father as well as a handful of children. We greeted his mother, Malee, in the traditional Khmer way, with our hands in prayer position above our noses saying “Sui siddai”. Sukhun introduced us, we sat down on a bamboo platform, and had 2 fresh coconuts brought to us by some of the boys that had followed. We drank the sweet milk and ate the soft flesh, sharing about ourselves and our trip with Malee with the help of Sukhun as interpreter. 

Here’s a quick glance into Sukhun’s life: when he became a Christian three years ago his family found out and were very angry. They practice a mixture of Buddhism and Chinese Ancestor worship, so his choice to become a Christian and go to church were extremely frowned upon. They were so upset with him he was pushed down a flight of stairs by one of his family members and subsequently broke his ankle. He then fled to Phnom Penh to find work and solace away from the persecutions of his family. He stayed there for about five months until they found him, came to an understanding, and he was able to come back home. The past three years his family has slowly been accepting his life as a Christian, some of them even occasionally going to church with him. His mother mainly asked us over because she had never seen foreigners before, and wanted to meet us for that novel fact. I asked Sukhun what was okay to say to them about our beliefs and a wariness seemed to creep into his eyes. He said he’d told his mother that we were missionaries, that we were Christians, but that she wasn’t really interested in hearing the Gospel. We told him that whether or not she wanted to hear it from our lips, we would be praying for her. Sukhun and his family have weighed heavily on my heart ever since I learned his story and he fervently asked every single member of our team if we could come teach at his church on the weekend. He is 20 years old, and has such an honest love for Christ; his passion for sharing the Gospel with his fellow villagers inspires and humbles me. Most of the children we’ve met here who are Christians are the only Christians in their family, much like Sukhun. His mother, despite her reservations about our faith, was sweet and soft with us. Little did I know that the next day I would see her in church and have her ask Nikki and I to lay hands on her for healing. If you can’t call that God showing up and doing amazing things I don’t know what you can call it.

 

We walked the winding dirt road back through the large village, yelling back hello’s to passing children, trying not to step on random chickens and piles of cow dung. Happy stayed close by and we talked a little. He asked me a few times, “Are you happy?” and the answer was “Yes, I am very happy!” And I was, it had been a wonderful day, full of surprises and great moments with God. His question reminded me to be grateful for all the day had brought. We walked back to the church, collected our bikes, and Happy and I made the short ride down the road to the Center for Teaching English with the rest of the girls. We had been asked there earlier in the day by a local boy, asking us to tell about our culture and also to share the Good News. There were three classrooms in total at the Center, all three of them packed full of students. My team of six split up into groups of two and went into the classrooms with interpreters, ready to share our faith with the students.

 

Alecia and I stepped into our classroom with Sukhun. Literally half of the students in this school are Muslim, and the whole of the first few rows were full of girls with traditional Muslim head coverings on. I had no idea what I was going to say, I will admit I was a little intimidated standing in front of a classroom that was half Muslim. Thankfully, Alecia dove in headfirst and shared about her story, why she was here, and what God has done in her life. It was then my turn to share. I told them about what I had done back home before I came here, about how I had been worried that when I left my home to come here I would be lonely without my family. But that throughout the trip I had started to realize how big my family really was, a family that expanded every time someone opened their heart to the love of God. The words that came out of my mouth weren’t my own, I flew by the seat of my pants so to speak…or perhaps more accurately I flew by the words of the Holy Spirit. Happy sat in the front row to my right, and every time I looked over at him while I was speaking he gave me a big smile, nodding his head, encouraging me all the way through. Once we were done sharing we asked the students if they had any questions. One of the boys stood up and with very good English directly asked me some questions about myself that brought laughter to the classroom. He then, quite mockingly, asked me if I would sing them a song. I stared at him, agog, and said, “A song? You want me to sing you a song?” Happy grinned at me hugely from the front row at this question. The boy replied, “Yes, sing us a song.” God brought the same song I had sung first for Happy that day back to my head, loud and clear. So I looked at the boy, and said “Alright, I’ll sing you a song.”

 

For those of you who know me well, singing is not my strongest skill. Singing in front of people is not something I enjoy doing. But I’ll tell you this, as I stood there, singing the words, letting God’s melody flow out of me, I stopped worrying about how I was sounding and starting hoping someone in the classroom would hear the words I was singing, would understand the tune I was lifting up to my Heavenly Father, that God would use what could have been a humiliating situation for His own glory. Happy, all the while, looked at me and smiled that sweet smile of his, nodding his head to the song. Walking out of the classroom with Happy by my side, looking out on the acres of gorgeous countryside, the setting sun streaking the sky shades of pink, I couldn’t help but let out a joyous laugh. God had me practice singing His songs earlier in the day, singing with a boy named Happy at my back, so that I could boldly stand before a classroom of fifty plus students and sing out that same song of praise.