Since
preaching the gospel is illegal in Vietnam, our ministry mostly
consisted of spending time with college students while helping them
with their English. Once on a personal level with these students, we
followed the Lord’s leading as to when to privately share His story
of hope and love. The results far exceeded my expectations. God
is after the youth of Vietnam and they are hungry for Him!
preaching the gospel is illegal in Vietnam, our ministry mostly
consisted of spending time with college students while helping them
with their English. Once on a personal level with these students, we
followed the Lord’s leading as to when to privately share His story
of hope and love. The results far exceeded my expectations. God
is after the youth of Vietnam and they are hungry for Him!
I
became particularly attached and fond of one close-nit group of
friends. On the third day in Vietnam they took us to the War
Remnants Museum – a museum dedicated to educating the public on
the history and consequences of what they call the American War or
the War of Aggression.
became particularly attached and fond of one close-nit group of
friends. On the third day in Vietnam they took us to the War
Remnants Museum – a museum dedicated to educating the public on
the history and consequences of what they call the American War or
the War of Aggression.
I
wasn’t prepared for what I saw. For the first time in my life I, we
Americans, were on the “other side.” The bad side. We were the
ones holding up decapitated heads as trophies. We were the ones
dragging dead bodies behind vehicles. We were the ones dumping
millions of liters of toxic chemicals on villages that caused
horrific deformities and cancers. We were the ones killing innocent
farmers, women and children by the thousands for a cause that is to
this day difficult to understand.
wasn’t prepared for what I saw. For the first time in my life I, we
Americans, were on the “other side.” The bad side. We were the
ones holding up decapitated heads as trophies. We were the ones
dragging dead bodies behind vehicles. We were the ones dumping
millions of liters of toxic chemicals on villages that caused
horrific deformities and cancers. We were the ones killing innocent
farmers, women and children by the thousands for a cause that is to
this day difficult to understand.
I
felt excruciatingly uncomfortable with my young Vietnamese friends.
Yes, the museum was obnoxiously one-sided and biased, but the
pictures were real. As I wondered from heartbreaking photo to
heartbreaking photo, I found I simply wanted to be as far away from
my innocent friends as I could get. I felt horrified and… ashamed.
I felt angry with America.
One
of the most beautiful discoveries of the Race for me is how, with
each new country, I’ve fallen more and more in love with my own.
America is proud and liberal and conservative and compassionate and
beautifully diverse and FREE. We value life. As I’ve traveled from
one country to the next, I’ve never been more proud to be an
American! If you only knew how the rest of the world looks up to us.
But walking through that museum made me stumble. I didn’t want this
deeper love for my country to be suddenly hallow.
After
the museum and throughout the month, I was shy about reveling my
nationality. I just didn’t want to have that conversation. But then
God and a Vietnamese vet stepped in and redeemed
it all for me.
the museum and throughout the month, I was shy about reveling my
nationality. I just didn’t want to have that conversation. But then
God and a Vietnamese vet stepped in and redeemed
it all for me.
On
a short five day trip eleven hours north in Nha Trang, we visited an
elderly and special needs facility. It was obvious that the facility
tried to take care of their residents, but the conditions were still
deplorable. (In fact, one of our team members posted pictures on
Facebook and was soon asked to have them taken down by our contact.)
None of the residents spoke English and with only three translators,
most of us just sat and listened while the elderly spoke to us in
Vietnamese. They didn’t care that we couldn’t speak their language.
They could see in our eyes and feel in our touch that we were there
to simply love them. Who knew how long they’ve gone without a
visitor.
a short five day trip eleven hours north in Nha Trang, we visited an
elderly and special needs facility. It was obvious that the facility
tried to take care of their residents, but the conditions were still
deplorable. (In fact, one of our team members posted pictures on
Facebook and was soon asked to have them taken down by our contact.)
None of the residents spoke English and with only three translators,
most of us just sat and listened while the elderly spoke to us in
Vietnamese. They didn’t care that we couldn’t speak their language.
They could see in our eyes and feel in our touch that we were there
to simply love them. Who knew how long they’ve gone without a
visitor.
I
came into one room with all men. The man in the bed farthest from the
door immediately drew my attention because he was beaming a huge
toothless grin at me and because he was missing one leg. My mind
instantly went to the question, “Did we do that?” As soon as I
shook his hand he began making gun noises with his mouth and pointed
at his leg. Thankfully one of the three translators walked into our
room and she began translating.
came into one room with all men. The man in the bed farthest from the
door immediately drew my attention because he was beaming a huge
toothless grin at me and because he was missing one leg. My mind
instantly went to the question, “Did we do that?” As soon as I
shook his hand he began making gun noises with his mouth and pointed
at his leg. Thankfully one of the three translators walked into our
room and she began translating.
He
had been a military parachutist in the war and sure enough his
leg was blown off when he tried to flee from the Americans. After telling his gruesome story, he told me he was so happy I
came to visit him. He kept shaking my hand and smiling up at me. Then
he asked the question – “Where are you from?” I hesitated
and said, “I’m from America, sir.”
had been a military parachutist in the war and sure enough his
leg was blown off when he tried to flee from the Americans. After telling his gruesome story, he told me he was so happy I
came to visit him. He kept shaking my hand and smiling up at me. Then
he asked the question – “Where are you from?” I hesitated
and said, “I’m from America, sir.”
He
didn’t respond for a while. He just stared into my eyes as they must
have changed from joy to sadness. And in that moment I wanted to say,
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry for your leg. I’m sorry for your country!”
But I couldn’t. I was torn. Would I be unpatriotic to my own country
if I simply said, “I’m sorry?”
didn’t respond for a while. He just stared into my eyes as they must
have changed from joy to sadness. And in that moment I wanted to say,
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry for your leg. I’m sorry for your country!”
But I couldn’t. I was torn. Would I be unpatriotic to my own country
if I simply said, “I’m sorry?”
In
the end, the sweet Vietnamese man saw my internal struggle and
stepped in with grace. He grabbed my hand, patted it, looked up into
my eyes and said, “It’s okay. I’m okay. I am so happy you came to
visit me this day. I am so happy you are here!” But what he was
really saying was, “I’ve forgiven your country. There is no
bitterness left inside me. It is finished.”
the end, the sweet Vietnamese man saw my internal struggle and
stepped in with grace. He grabbed my hand, patted it, looked up into
my eyes and said, “It’s okay. I’m okay. I am so happy you came to
visit me this day. I am so happy you are here!” But what he was
really saying was, “I’ve forgiven your country. There is no
bitterness left inside me. It is finished.”
Tears
filled my eyes and I wanted so desperately to tell him how much he
resembles my precious Jesus and how much he has
redeemed for me. But I had to move on. There were 100 more residents
in need of the milk and towels we were handing out. So I shook his
hand one last time, told him how happy I was to have met him and
walked away with a profound sense of peace.
filled my eyes and I wanted so desperately to tell him how much he
resembles my precious Jesus and how much he has
redeemed for me. But I had to move on. There were 100 more residents
in need of the milk and towels we were handing out. So I shook his
hand one last time, told him how happy I was to have met him and
walked away with a profound sense of peace.
I’ll
never understand the Vietnam War. I know what I saw in that museum
was not the full truth. I know only a select group of Americans acted
like monsters and the rest served their country with honor. I know I
am blessed more than I’ll ever know to have been born an American.
never understand the Vietnam War. I know what I saw in that museum
was not the full truth. I know only a select group of Americans acted
like monsters and the rest served their country with honor. I know I
am blessed more than I’ll ever know to have been born an American.
And…
I know that one God encounter with a Vietnamese vet taught me more
about grace and forgiveness
than I’ll ever learn in a lifetime.
