Short-Term Memories
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[0 Comment]This is a story of God's grace. Grace that played out in a Phnom Penh conference facility, in a small Cambodian church, in my parents' guest room, and, ultimately, in my heart.
The first act of God's grace on my short-term missions trip three weeks ago was our team's safe arrival in Phnom Penh, Cambodia, after 20 hours of flight. Four members of my church and I were there to work with one of our church's missionaries, who'd launched a publishing company in Phnom Penh in 2004. Our team was staging a four-day conference; one member would discuss sound business practices with the publisher, while the others would teach graphic design or editing. I was to teach writing.
I had 20 students in my class: 19 men and 1 woman. Many of them worked for missions agencies, including World Vision, TransWorld Radio, and the Billy Graham Evangelistic Association. Though these writers were similar in their passion for ministry, they varied in educational level—one 22-year-old was finishing high school, another 30something held a college degree in literature. My class worked hard, asked good questions, and appeared eager to learn. I was eager to learn from these brothers and sister as well, and they didn't disappoint. Three of their stories in particular moved me and represented some of the other students' stories I heard.
Standing just to my left every day was Chhay, my translator. I was startled to learn a Cambodian man Chhay's age, 54, was an unusual finding, since most men his age had been killed during Pol Pot's genocidal reign in the early 1970s. While my students spent time writing in class one day, Chhay told me about that horrific season of his life. How he did hard labor 18 hours a day in a Khmer Rouge work camp and received only a spoonful of rice for each meal. How he got orders to kill his mother, refused at peril to his own life, and avoided punishment only because the Khmer Rouge valued his hard work. How years later Chhay sensed God calling him to start a hostel for college students who had nowhere to stay, besides Buddhist temples, while studying in Phnom Penh. How most of the 50 to 70 students housed at his facility become Christians during their second year there, drawn by Chhay's servant-love.
Sitting eagerly in the front row every day was Kimchoeurng, an orphan who never knew his parents. He was a beggar on the streets of Phnom Penh from ages six to eight before he finally landed in an orphanage—not the kind that attracts adoring parents looking for a child to call their own, but the kind that offers slightly better accommodations than life on the streets. Last year, at age 21, Kimchoeurng started his own orphanage. He now houses 31 children in his three-room, one-bathroom facility, teaching them about the Father whose love sustained Kimchoeurng through a tumultuous childhood.
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