Sorry, I had exited the technology zone for a bit. I’ve just returned from the mountain villages of Northern Thailand. I can’t wait to tell you about those amazing experiences, but I will resist the temptation and continue on my focused path of unwrapping my time in Cambodia.
For this third installment, it is time to tackle some of God’s work in me. It seems rather fitting that one of God’s lessons would occur in one of the places that I dreaded most prior to my trip departure. Since an early age, I’ve had a rather irrational fear of getting food sickness. So I have always been a bit leery of food that has either been stored or prepared in a questionable fashion. So very early on, my team decided to stretch me through immersion into the unique experience of street vendor dining. (As if I really had a choice since my food budget is $4 a day…)
If you’ve not experienced it, there is nothing quite like the fluorescent ambiance of the makeshift dining space of a street vendor in the night market. The fluorescent light glistens off the trash resting along the street. Horns honk as motos and tuk-tuks hustle past. Utensils sit incased in water of which you’re not quite sure of its origins. Raw meat sits ready for preparation and if you are like me, your mind and heart race as you speculate how long it has rested in such a state. Your walk there is decorated with whole, and I mean whole, roasted animals hanging from strings and various grilled items rest over open fires. Many of these “items” are the normally the discarded parts here in the US. For some of my queasier readers, I’ll spare you the details.
As I peered at the various bowls filled with the choices for the night, I played the safe bet and ordered fried rice. The first bite entered my mouth reluctantly as my team cheered me on… Their support was much appreciated. As time passed and days turned into weeks, I became a little more adventuresome and managed to graduate to adding some meats and eggs. Never quite as brave as some of my teammates and never quite as excited to visit our team named “Noodle Man” as one teammate in particular, I became comfortable and even chose to go there on occasion when other options were available.
Although my new found bravery was growth in itself, it wasn’t the real work that God was doing in me as I visited the night market. During my visits to the night market, I found myself beginning to take in more regarding my surroundings than the food. As we dined, th
e poor canvassed the crowd often asking for money. Some however filtered from table to table with a plastic bag only wanting the scraps left within your bowl. At times the face of poverty was a hunched over elderly woman and other times you were confronted by a mother and her two children.
Often those dining would either ignore or brush the beggers along. On occasion you would witness a few dollars exchange hands. As I witnessed this poverty, my heart began to break. The” pious” person I am eventually decided that these people were worth a few minutes of my time… just enough time to scrape my scraps off my plate and into a bag. Oh what a great person I was… I wasn’t like the rest of them who just brushed them past and I certainly wasn’t going to give them money to finance a bad habit. Then God began to whisper to my heart and lovingly convict…”That which you’ve done for the least of these you’ve done for me…. Am I worth no more than the scraps off your plate?” I began to ponder these words and they began to permeate my heart.
So the next time I visited the night market, I was no longer just going to give the scraps off my plate but I was going to buy a fresh meal. And so I did, that night I bought 3 meals for people. (As a side note, if you want to feel good about yourself in terms of your giving in quantity go to the night market where it requires the sacrifice of a whole dollar to buy a meal… sarcasm intended) I walked up… ordered the meals… made sure they were packed in nice little carry out bags and I gave them away. Oh what a “pious” man I am… Then God whispered and lovingly convicted me again…”That which you’ve done for the least of these you’ve done for me… Am I not worthy to sit at your table?” I once again began to ponder these words and they too began to permeate my heart.
So the next time I visited the market, God was still working these truths into my heart, and he presented me with an opportunity. As a mother and her children approached my table, He continued to whisper His truths into my ear and I invited them to sit… I invited them in… They sat and they dined with my friends and me. We scan the Bible at times envying those who walked alongside Jesus. How wonderful it must have been to have to opportunity to bless God as He walked the earth? The truth that God has begun revealing to me is that He is still giving us those opportunities, chances to be like Him and to bless Him. I still have far more growing to do in this area. In fact, I think its far easier when traveling through the 3rd world to pour out this brand of kindness. The real tests will come when I re-enter daily life in America.
I have reflected on my giving in the States through the lens of this experience. How often I’ve only given spare change, extra cash (The scraps from my table). In other instances, how often I’ve written the feel good check to a charity, a check that requires no more investment then my signature? My easy giving that doesn’t require me to see those I help as equals. It doesn’t require me to invite anyone to my “table”. So God’s invitation is ironically to invite Him in to sit down and commune with us. I hope I have to courage to do it again.
