The rain is pouring down and I am sitting at our kitchen table with kindergarten phonics books spread around me. I am attempting to learn the Khmer alphabet, taking advangtage of an extra long holiday weekend with no school. I keep confusing the aspirated t’s and the implosive d’s, and subscript consonants are a whole different story! I keep waiting for the moment to come when I hurl these books across the room, go run out into the pouring rain and say, “Really, Lord? You expect me to learn this language?”
But it hasn’t come, not today anyway. We went for a long walk this morning, down the street that heads toward the market, past the bubble tea shops and clothing stores, repair shops and vegetable stands. Scores of people are preparing to head back to their home province in celebration of the Buddhist holiday of Pchum Ben. They will take food to the temple in honor of their deceased ancestors, take food and clothing to their elders, celebrate all together. We walked past the familiar places and I heard bits and pieces of their Khmer, a language that 3 months ago sounded like jibberish but now sounds familiar, like a special song that plays over and over in my heart. As we walked, God reminded me that He had called me here to love these people. To pray for them to love and worship Him as the One True God, more powerful than their traditions and fears and deepest longings.
This week as they are especially tuned in to spiritual things, would you pray along with me for God to send them dreams and visions of who He is? Would you pray that the Light would shine through the darkness? Would you pray that this love God has put in my heart for these people would overflow in continued prayers for them and for words to share Truth? And pray that I figure out the Khmer alphabet. 🙂