We’ve worn a path between the guesthouse and my sister and brother-in-law’s apartment, walking the same familiar streets every morning the last two weeks. There’s the corner grocery store, aisles bursting with special imported goodies and all the staples. There’s the little roadside cart; the scent of fresh coffee grounds invites us from afar. Near the last corner we greet an elderly couple as they sit outside their home with bowls of soup and rice. Their son The Barber just invested in the little carts we call Tuk-Tuks so he can transport customers around the city. If he’s not busy when it’s time to run an errand or see the sites, we’ll all pile in his Tuk-Tuk for a ride.
He loves to chat as we weave our way through traffic. “This person was very old,” he informs us as we pass the black and white funeral tent. He always seems to be in the know. He’ll practice his English and ask clarifying questions. “You really only have one word for all the forms of rice?”
One day on our way home from an outing, he wanted to know more about what I was doing in Cambodia. I gave him the easy answer first. “We teach English at a local cafe.” But then I added the true reason, why we deal with hot season and constant rains and ants and the nitty gritty hard and messy of life here. “We are people who love Jesus and want to share about the hope of Jesus with the people here.”
He turned back to look at me. “Jesus?” I realized he probably had never heard the name before, he was learning of Jesus for the first time. The traffic picked up and he had to focus on the task at hand. But my heart stirred as I realized all the people who are along those worn paths in my life, the streets I walk every day. Do I pray for my Tuk-Tuk driver, the cashier at the little corner grocery store, my favorite barista? Do I care enough to stop, to know their name and their story, to share my heart and the heart of the Savior?
Who are the people you see daily? Let’s take time to pray for them today and share the hope that we have.