Where all the stories begin

Jesus, who are You that can give the blind sight?
Who are You that can bring the dead back to life?
Who are You that can feed the five thousand?
Oh, Jesus, Who are You that even the demons are scared?

You are Son of the Most High
The Light in the dark
The Hope for the lost
Jesus, it is You

You are the Author and Perfector of my faith
The Beginning and the End
The Prophet who always lives
Jesus, it is You

Why care for this small grain
When You are the great I AM?
Why love when all I do
Is to bring You pain?
Oh, Jesus...because it is You.

I wrote this a long while ago. It was during the New Year holiday, and I was with my church fellows doing some mission work up in the North. The sun just came up, and I was sitting in my quiet zone inside a generous man's house from a Mien village who allowed us to intrude into every corner of his house (except his bedroom, of course!). Things were stirring to life again after a dead silence at night: the echoing noise of cocks crowing, dogs barking, women chatting softly over a huge pot of hot porridge, men greetings each other around the fire and children poking their faces inside the gate to see if we were all up.

The religious system of the village holds on to its tradition - animism. These tribal people initially immigrated from China, and had settled down in some of Thailand's northern provinces, including Naan. I had an opportunity to sit down and chat with an old man one evening. Watching the excitement of the community, he was sitting on a wooden stool, hands carrying an ancient parchment in his hands. As he gingerly turned to the next page, I could feel the crispness of those yellow pages. I inclined my head to have a closer look of what he was reading, afraid to ask if I could hold it unless the manuscript would be torn in pieces had it been in my clumsy hands.

Couldn't decide what it was, I asked, "Uncle, what is it you're reading?" With his broken thai, he said, "It's my bible, young lady". Ever more curious, I wondered aloud, "What does it talk about then?" His reply was, "Our own practices and regulations like what we need to prepare for a sacrifice...something like that." I could sense his pride as he spoke about his religion. And it was no wonder that he's one of those religious men in the village.

It was an interesting experience for me. I asked him so many words in his tongue after that. Then I came across the word "God"....and that's when he gave me a questioning stare. I thought he didn't understand my thai so I explained to him as someone who created the earth, the sky, the trees and other living things. Smiling now, he told me of this word that would mean "God" in his own understanding. Later on, I tried to use this word (I'll have to go back and search for this paper I wrote all the Mien words I learned again) with a Christian Mien...and they gave me a blank stare. One girl said that the word I learned didn't refer to our sovereign God but some spirits in their religion. Then it struck me...these people have no idea who the Lord is. They don't have any clue what this word would be in their vocabulary system...only Christians, who are a minority in the community know what it is.

Lately, my heart has been so broken for the world. And I'm not speaking in a lightly manner. This past week I had an experience of falling to my knees and crying heavily for what has been happening on earth. My soul was being tortured by the sufferings of people. My heart is heavy-laden for those who are lost in the whirlpool of materialism and so-called short life. Yet one dark voice raised, "What can a person like you, wretched sinner, do? How dare you think you can change a person's world, let alone the whole planet?" I couldn't help but give way tremblingly to the voice but the light of truth seeped in. Hadn't God commanded us to "preach good news to the poor, bind up the brokenhearted, proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness of the prisoners, to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor and the day of vengeance of our God, to comfort all who mourn, and provide for those who grieve in Zion - to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair." (Isa. 61:1-3)

A lot of times I feel like I am a tiny ant watching all giants of this world wandering about. And in those times, the dark voice keeps haunting me as a faithful company. But I learned and knew better than that. Wasn't it Jesus who began the march to calvary once the crunching on the fruit echoed in the garden of Eden? Wasn't it Him who, through history, laid a foundational plan of salvation through weak and humble people who later became "the heroes of faith"? Wasn't it Him who endured the plight in that torturous night so that all our sins shall be washed away in that scarlet blood and we be cleansed as white as snow? Wasn't it the Father who miraculously rolled away the stone and raised His only begotten Son for the sake of humankind's hope? And wasn't it Jesus, our Savior, who said, "Go and make disciples of all nations,..."?

Hence, after realizing, the passion God's given me earlier burns ever more violently within me. Impossible task to change the whole universe, of course. But wasn't it Jesus again who said that the kingdom of God is within you and me? Why not start right here, within ourselves, where all the stories begin, with faith, fervent prayer and love?

"It is no longer I who live,

But it is Christ who lives in me." Galations 2:19

Little by little we are changed by this daily crucifixion of the will.

Changed, not like a tornado changes things,

but like a grain of sand in an oyster changes things.

New graces emerge; new joy at the success of others,

new hope in a God who is good...

God is not destroying the will but transforming it

so that over a process of time and experience we can freely will what God wills

-Richard Foster