We double-dipped on church today and went to two Easter services.

While we love our little home church in Mae Sot, it’s a little less organized and significantly smaller than most churches. It’s also fairly homogenous: we’re between 25 and 45; we live oversees and we’re there for Jesus & Burma. There are very few exceptions to this.

There is something refreshing about being surrounded by people of all ages, singing together for Jesus. There is something nice about mood lighting, words on a screen, and a whole band singing.

There is something nice about singing with a guitar among forty people sitting on the floor in a house, too, so I’ll just leave it there. We are simply enjoying American church right now, so we went to three services last week and two this week, soaking up what we can.

It was really lovely to be here for Easter this year especially. I think I needed the reminder: I needed be refreshed of the power of the cross; the necessity and impact of the resurrection. The past couple weeks have been a reminder of the power of Easter in me, and thus created an ache for those that seem so un-impacted by this–those around us, and particularly the families living on our street in Mae Sot.

While we are less involved with our Mae Sot neighborhood while we’re here, my prayers for them have increased exponentially. They are on my heart constantly, and I am left with prayer alone. My favorite prayer for them is from Matt Maher’s song Christ is Risen:

Christ is risen from the dead
Trampling over debt by death
Come awake, come awake
Come and rise up from the grave

I practically shout “Come Awake!” when we are singing in the service. I just ache for them to know truth; for them to experience the power and hope of awaking. Come awake!

 

We always seem to be questioning if it is “worth it” to live around the world.

Are we really having an impact? And is that impact significant enough that it is worth the challenges?

Is it worth us living so far from family, when there always seems to be something changing? Is it worth us raising support, living off the sacrifices of so many? Is it worth us living where we are uncomfortable? It is worth us devoting so many [sometimes fruitless-feeling] hours to studying language?

How do we measure worth? If we’re counting quantitatively or making an investment portfolio, I think the argument is quite weak. It probably isn’t worth it.

So we look to Christ; we attempt look to eternity. And while this is a better perspective, we are still left wondering. We are often basing our decisions on obedience rather than any assurance in the outcomes or successes.

And while obedience is enough to quiet the soul, I often wonder if it is enough for others. Is our obedience a reason for our families to feel that it is worth it for us to be here? Is our obedience a reason for friends, family, and the Church to support us day in and day out while we are here?

On Sunday we were able to be back at our home church in Little Rock. This group has been wonderful to us. They have prayed for us faithfully, given abundantly, and they are patient with us when we are horrible at keeping in touch. They are always willing to welcome us back and make us feel at home.

They sent us out this week in prayer, which means more than I can say. There are so many things we need prayer for; so many things we are having to wrap our minds around as we try to fully embrace this season and prepare for the seasons ahead.

One sweet friend, Judy, prayed this for us: that we would be equipped for what it is in front of us; that if it was a small mission, we would do it well. And if He has called us to a big mission, that we would be faithful in that, too.

I loved this, and I was so thankful to hear her prayer. It almost seemed to reassure that it was okay for us to be there with great accomplishments or small. And particularly coming from a group that has been so supportive, it means a lot that they feel it was “worth it,” whether the results are visible or measurable or neither.

Stephen was preparing a video the other day of our neighborhood, which left us flipping through video clips of the neighbor kids. There were clips of us playing on the porch and putting on Band-Aids; clips that had to be cut when a surprise half-naked child ran across the screen or jumped up in front of a group.

It felt so far away; just worlds apart from us in ways I can’t explain.

How was that our day-to-day reality just weeks ago? And how is this our day-to-day reality now? How do they exist simultaneously on this planet?

And what I wonder the most is this: how is it possible that both feel so very familiar? And more frustrating, how does a part of me not feel at home in either place?

It’s frustrating; today, at least.

It’s sad how far away those beautiful children feel; it’s sad how difficult it is to connect these two worlds or explain them.

We’re here.

I nearly cried when the immigration officer told us, “Welcome home,” just like I nearly did before.

We are in Oklahoma City, where the freezing temperatures are keeping us bundled. We have been busy seeing sweet friends, drinking coffee to stay awake, and being amazed at the amount of salt this country takes in.

And we’ve been participating in MarkedOKC, where we spent all of Sunday sharing about Partners’ work in Burma. I had an opportunity to speak on Development & Aid, as well as participate in a panel on how to leverage your skills to serve. I will be sharing on Development & Aid again today with partner agencies that helped to host the event on Sunday.

This week is PostMarked, a conference for agencies who participated in the Marked conference. We are able to listen to a number of speakers and network with other agencies. It has been really wonderful, and a great welcome to the States.

Yesterday we had a speaker sharing about the Kingdom of God across cultures, namely from his experience working with Muslim communities around the world. He discussed our world views and the five factors that determine our own worldview–which, research shows, is determined by the age we are four.

One of the factors determining our worldview is epistemology, or what knowledge is and how it is acquired. In essence, it is how we answer the question, How do I know what I know?

In the West, we know what we know through education. We value reasoning, logic, and what we have learned in research and education. In the East, knowledge comes through experience, particularly the experience of family and relationships.

Our speaker gave an example of Western missionaries going to share Christ in the East that loosely went like this: we usually go to bible school, load ourselves up with apologetics, surveys of Scripture, and systems of theology. We load our guns full of education, arguments, and doctrines, rushing over to reason the case of Christ.

And then our friends in the East, they take our gun of information, and they bend it into a circle. Because really, it doesn’t matter if logically this leads to this and makes this absolute truth, because my father told me this.

Logic is not value, information and proof is irrelevant. And education for the sake of argument is weak.

He continued to share about the importance of building relationships that become bridges strong enough to hold truth, something that takes great amounts of time.

This is something we have seen day in and day out where we are and in our community; it was refreshing to hear it put into words. But what really struck me is this:

The West is so focused on reasoning and information.
The East loves relationship, and to us, what seems ridiculously illogical.

And if we look at Scripture, we see more of the illogical. We see more relationships. We see things that seem paradoxical; we see things that counter our logical arguments. We see so much grey.

So really, Scriptures seem more Eastern-culture. And while that isn’t surprising if we consider where most of Christian history took place, it is surprising that the West is primarily “Christian” in today’s society.

To me, this explains why we in the West struggle so much with Scripture. We struggle so much to find points that meet our arguments and work into our logic. But really, Scripture and Jesus Christ and the Holy Spirit seem to fit more in the bent, circular gun that values relationship.

And further, this showed me what an opportunity we have to live where we do. We have the privilege of attempting to live out the stories of Scripture in the East, where their lives can show us Scripture.  They can show us the culture of Christ. They can ignore time constraints to value a person, and exemplify for us what we see Christ do on countless occasions. They can show us the hierarchical systems, giving us a glimpse into the drastic acts of love that Christ portrayed to the poor & lowly.

They can wreck our limits of logic and show us the beauty of relationships, while we wreck their limits of false gods and show them the power of our God.

As part of our introductions today, we were told to share who we are, what we do, and where we would spend $5000 selfishly (i.e. no selfless answers of buying things to give away).

This was a very hard decision.

Having not bought many books in the past two years, a bookstore was a very tempting, and very nerdy, answer. There is also the glorious place we call Target that promises to provide a variety of clothing, books, music, and even great chapstick, where I would maximize my theoretical $5000. Or then there are outdoor stores, where I would actually use the clothing and headlamps.

And then there is the answer I decided on: Anthropologie, one of the most beautiful stores ever. Granted, my $5000 wouldn’t go nearly as far, but that store is just lovely. They have so many gorgeous dresses, girly bows, and fabulous patterns.

My friend sitting next to me has spent the past two years in Africa, and her answer was the same. We giggled to each other that we were done with headlamps, cargo pants, and wicking tops: we wanted to feel like girls. We want to wear frilly dresses and flowery tops!

We then visited Anthropologie later in the day, and it was everything I remembered and more.

We have completed the first leg of our journey: we made it from Mae Sot to Chiang Mai and spent a lovely evening with friends here, all after a few days of very little sleep.

This is more surreal than I would have expected. I’m surprisingly nervous and scared to go to America; while also being both sad and relieved to leave Mae Sot. It was so sad to wave goodbyes to the neighbors, but the joys and comforts promised around the corner are so welcoming.

There are certainly things I think I will miss in Mae Sot.

The kids. The beautiful, ridiculous kids that spend so much time in our porch. The little ones that stick their fingers through the hole that they made in the screen, step up on to the edge of our door frame, and poke their little eyes over the edge to shout hellos. The little girls that want to sit on our laps, and the little boys that come with bloody cuts from a recent race or fall. They will all be very, very missed.

The whole community, and the feel of being a part of a big, unique community you have limited communication with. I will miss passing the men and women in town, seeing their faces light up at the fact we shop in the same market that they do. I will miss them shouting hellos to us while they shower just off the street, and finding this absolutely acceptable.

The market. I usually miss the market simply between visits. There is something really beautiful about the chaos of the morning markets that even Target can’t compete with.

Our motorbike. I’ve come to love driving a motorbike, particularly the ability to get all the way across town in seven minutes.

There are also some things I probably won’t miss.

The street dogs. I was chased, growled at, and nipped on my ankles by four dogs during this mornings run alone. It is one thing to hold down the gas on the motorbike to peel away from a dog, it is another to muster up the energy to run faster when I’m already running in ninety degree heat. The dogs will not be missed in the slightest.

The heat. As hot season has arrived early this year, we are happily flying out. May the rains come before we return.

The midnight wake up calls for blood, vomiting, and births. There are plenty of optimistic ways to look at these–opportunities to build community, practice language, experience culture, be kind…but really, I like uninterrupted nights, and three months of them will be cherished.

There are certainly things waiting for us, as well!

The ten day forecast range has passed me by.

We leave tomorrow.

In the most dramatic understatement I can muster, there is much to be done.

How do you pack for three months in a country where, comparable to here, it is currently freezing? But by the time you leave, you’ll be warm again.

There are also many things to be purchased in the States–namely clothes that will fit better and last longer [in styles we appreciate]. To leave room for these things to return, we are attempting to pack lightly on the way over. But three months of “light” packing seems difficult.

And, we made it our oh-so-ambitious goal to not pack clothes with holes or stains. And looking through our wardrobes, this is a very high order. This country wears out your clothes, and in the end I packed five shirts that met this qualification.

I am having flashbacks of my childhood, hearing my mom tell one of my sisters that she had to throw away all of her bras and underwear with holes in them and buy new ones; it was a requirement. Apparently her thrifty approach had gotten out of hand. While I have the excuse of living in Thailand, it doesn’t extend much beyond that.

How do we bring our jobs to a good resting point for three months?

How do we put our lives on hold here–leading worship at home church, football games, bible studies, Saturdays playing with dolls, trainings and travels, and daily bandages for the neighbor kids–and try to slip into a life there, where one really doesn’t exist for us?

I have no idea. But we’re going to give it a go in just a few hours.