Focus, Focus, Hocus Pocus

"But I remember what Susan said
How love is found in the things we've given up
More than in the things that we have kept
And ain't it funny what people say
And ain't it funny what people write
And ain't it funny how it hits you so hard
In the middle of the night
And if your home is just another place where you're a stranger
And far away is just somewhere you've never been
I hope that you'll remember I was your friend"
- Rich Mullins (Thanks B-row)


I realise I've been writing a lot more than usual over the last week or so, but I've also been thinking a lot the last week or so hence the writing. And since the very point of this blog when I first started it before last summer in Deutschland was for accountability to processing the life of cross-cultural ministry, I figured you'd be ok with reading some of these thoughts.


Over lunch with a couple friends from high school earlier this week, the whole spiel about the way my life is going to unfold from this point on came about. One of them pointed out that I sound like I have given up on life because of the way I was talking about the stuff that lies ahead. Basically I told them that I already know I will be poor for the rest of this life, and that the field I'm in will not lead to much material happiness, not just because of the "poor" part of it, but also because of the number of times I will move around the world and stuff like that. 


Which made me reflect on whether or not I had really come to terms with what it means to continue down this path. On our last full day in Phnom Penh last week, my brother and I were riding on the back of the truck through town and out to the killing fields and genocide museum and all that fun stuff. What I saw on the streets didn't faze me much, mostly because with all the cross-cultural stuff I've been a part of since my undergrad days, I've learnt to stop having pre-conceived notions of what life is supposed to be like anywhere in the world. So everything is new, everything is surprising, but nothing is really unexpected anymore.


It wasn't until the point when my sister decided to join us on the back of the truck that it really hit me how global I've become. I grew up in one of the cleanest and safest island-cities in the world, and here I was in the dusty streets of Phnom Penh with the smells of pollution and manure all around as we rode on the truck and I was unfazed. I honestly can't say this is my own doing or my own choice, but rather, the sense of adventure that had to come from Somewhere Outside of Myself had helped with the adaptability. And you ask me how I know I'm called to cross-cultural work?


But then my sister asked me a question that, for the first time, I actually gave serious thought to. She asked if I could live there in Phnom Penh. And of course, without hesitation, I said yes. I was used to giving that answer. But that was the first time I really thought about it. Could I really live there in Phnom Penh? What would I do there? Clearly I will not have as much material wealth as our hosts for the week did, so I will not be throwing extravagant parties. Cambodia has been historically either Buddhist or Hindu, and I only remembered seeing at most two Seventh-Day Adventist churches there. And church-planting of that nature is not my thing. So that wouldn't fly either. I could try to start a business if I wanted to keep up with my parents' middle-class quality of life, but I wouldn't have the capital or the gifts of business-running to do that. Or would I be able to find work as a servant to one of the wealthy families there? Would it be culturally appropriate and acceptable for them to employ me? And how would I find a place for ministry in the middle of living life in Cambodia? It wasn't so much that I was giving serious thought to moving to Cambodia after seminary, as much as it was the serious thought of wondering if I really understood what I was saying when I keep telling people I can live anywhere in the world, but it's just a matter of where.


Then I remembered something else I learnt in Germany. Answering my call to ministry had never been limited to geographical settings, programs, systems or organizations of any kind. And my theology had always been that above everything else, God is love, and we exist both for and because of love. And yes, there are implications and complications to the word "agape," but agape was one that transcended social structure of any kind--be it the political division of land, or the hierarchy that had been set up by human beings to help navigate and draw boundaries in relationships. Jesus, supposedly the "new Moses," the one whose example we should probably follow if we're going to call ourselves Little Christs, showed that love transcended the traditional understanding of the Mosaic Laws that the Jews had guarded with their lives. Which I guess... that meant that it didn't matter where I physically land in terms of the political division of land, or where I line up in the social structure. Agape is going to transcend.


And it's really not so much that I've given up on life because of the path I've chosen. And no, I'm not envious of my friends who have the material wealth either. That is the path they chose, and I'm happy for them. But no, I've chosen this path, and I'm happy and content even knowing that I will never have very much except for the global companionship that I know I can always depend on.


So maybe that's why it hurts as much as it does when sometimes the global companions don't show up like they promised they would. Because that's the only thing I have (aside from the Higher Being, of course). So maybe I've had too high of expectations from some aspects of my community, thinking that my commitment to community should be reciprocated at the same level. Maybe that's why they say that there are some things in life that we have to fight for, but they also say to hold loosely to the things in our hands.


Still a lot to process, especially with the reminder of Susan Hardman's life this week, and the inspiration she was to me. But some of the random fly-away thoughts from the last couple weeks are finally being plowed through, refined so that I don't just let these thoughts be fleeting moments of life that are wasted away.

Of Monkeys, Donkeys and Other Tomfoolery

And so 2011 has arrived.
Welcome.
We greet you with peace and hope that you will do the same for us.

Somehow, my heart is detached from this "new year" stuff this year. Not much of wanting to reflect on the year that has passed, or much of wanting to set goals for the year to come. Maybe that's part of what happens when, for two years in a row, you've spent either Christmas or New Years setting a new tradition of being in a different country.

Or just simply... Being away from the traditions of the Church family that I grew up with made a difference in the way I see life now.

I used to think Christmas and New Year's was the time to gather with loved ones to reflect on things that have passed and dream about the future. But now, the definition of "loved ones" have changed. I guess being in China for Christmas last year and in Cambodia for New Year's this year made me remember again that there is life outside of the Church.

Before you think I've fallen off the deep end and am walking away from my call to ministry, I haven't. The Deutschland adventures this year taught me that ministry doesn't happen exclusively in the Church, whether it be in the confines of the building, or just amongst other Christ followers. It happens in the everyday life with the people I live with and walk with.

And now, Cambodia just reminded me of that again.

All week long, there were Monkeys, Donkey, Shrek and Happy Feet.
All week long, we saw history, played cards, lived Khmer culture, hung out at the beach.
All week long, we lived, we laughed.

Sure it might be shallow, but this is where we start.
And maybe because of this, beginning and ends don't matter as much anymore.

Because beginnings and ends are our definition of time.
Who knows if our paths will cross again, but the tomfoolery of this past week will always be remembered.

As will the grandeur of Angkor Wat and the other temples of Cambodia.
And the haunting memories of the killing fields and S-21.

Pictures are on Facebook. If you want to hear stories, I'd love to catch up with you.

And so 2011 has arrived.

Welcome.

We greet you with peace and hope that you will do the same for us.

Siem Reap, First Thoughts...

Sunday, December 26, 2010 (Siem Reap)

Siem Reap, Cambodia

The only reason why I would be familiar with this name would be because of the history books. Known for its historical marvel, the Angkor Wat.

Being here is almost as surreal as standing in front of the Bonhoefferhaus in Berlin, Germany. The history nerd in me is in awe of the architecture, the historicity of a civilization forgotten by the world while the music nerd in me is distracted by the sounds of the whole-tone music played by a young child on the Khmer variation of a Xylophone that greeted us as we entered the hotel lobby. All at the same time, the cultural anthropological nerd in me is marveled by the cross of Buddhism and Hinduism in the Khmer culture, while the seminary nerd in me is trying to figure out what to do with the fact that the breakfast we had this morning cost each of us only US$2 and was being taken care of by our host who is up in the ranks in the Cambodian government but the average Cambodian will not be able to afford that.

But I digress.

Let me back-trek a little and explain what in the world I’m doing here in Siem Reap.

So for years now, my mum and her younger sister have been tutoring kids who came to Singapore from other Southeast Asian countries for education. My aunt’s sister-in-law was the originator of this enterprise that started oh, some fifteen years ago or something close to that. The kids lived with my aunt’s sister-in-law who would be their legal guardian here and both my mum and aunt would tutor them to teach them English and help catch them up with the school system here in Singapore. They came from Malaysia, Indonesia and mostly Cambodia, and had wealthy parents (which would have been the only way they could have afforded education in Singapore).

Anyhow, two years ago, some of my mum’s students from Cambodia asked if she and her family would go visit them in Cambodia. Their parents would host them and make arrangements for  touring and accommodations, so basically my mum just needed to take care of getting to Cambodia. Well, at this time, my brother and I were still in the US, and when I found out they were going to Angkor Wat, I was a little jealous. So when the students asked her again if she would come visit them this time around, we got to tag along.

And so here we are in a little resort in Siem Reap. Well, not little. They actually got a villa for the six of us, and from where I am sitting out here on the porch, I am well-shaded from the sun with a view overlooking the pool. All around, the architecture is very much Cambodian with the mix of Buddhist and Hindu flavours, but you can tell that they’ve studied well what the Western tourists are looking for in their little Asian getaways (I watched Eat Pray Love on the Frankfurt to Singapore flight. Just think of all the stuff Julia Roberts did in India and Bali to be counter-Western in that film and you’ll know what I mean).

Upon our arrival at the Siem Reap airport this morning, we were greeted by a sign with my mum’s name on it. We cleared immigration and customs without having to stand in line because of who our hosts were. Then we were ushered off in a van that took us to this villa where a young child was making what I would guess to be traditional Khmer music in the corner. At the other corner, there was a Buddhist altar similar to the ones in both of my grandma’s homes, except on a bigger scale. The Asian-ness is familiar, but having lived in the US for the last six years and all the other cultural and religious influences that have been a part of my life in the last six years, this familiarity is so welcoming… and refreshing.

So we check into our villa, a huge suite with two huge rooms, two huge bathrooms, a huge sitting area and kitchen space. I could spend the rest of our week in the country here and be happy. But something about that weirds me out just a little because I still think about my own life on the other side of the world where I know that 1) I will never be able to afford vacations like these by myself because of my vocational call, and 2) I feel a little guilty for this expenditure. I’ve already been processing the part about how the middle-class in Singapore is far better off in terms of quality of life than the middle-class in the US. But I haven’t quite reached the point of reconciliation with myself about if I want to do anything about that, or what that would mean yet.

Then after our luggages were dropped off in our villa, we were carted off again to breakfast Cambodian-style. They had the eggs, toast and coffee selection but they also had the Asian variation of rice and noodles (which reminded me of HT’s, “Thank you for bringing rice” comment when I brought Mum’s chicken porridge to our Biblical Foundation for Mission breakfast final. HT, by the way, is Korean) which was what we opted for.

It was at this point that Mum pointed out that the average Cambodian would not be able to afford the meal we were having, even though it was only US$2 per person. Our van-driver and tour-guide made about US$30 per month. The advocacy for social justice instilled in me by my good old Missions professor MaryAnn made me want to do something about it. But what would that be?

A lot of processing to do. But for now, I’m off to be social.