http://www.bangkokpost.com/news/politics/173946/state-of-emergency-declared

Apparently the PM has set a curfew in Bangkok after the Red Shirts stormed parliament.  Not totally sure of the time.  Nothing too big, but it’s kind of exciting.  :)

Peace!

The 2 hour class hasn’t been completely horrible; most of the students are actually very well behaved and quiet.  Still though, sometimes it only takes one-or two.  A tubby little guy named Wit is one of the culprits, and the other is a tiny girl named Nai.  They are both around 11 or 12 years old and probably speak the best English in the 7-student class.

Admittedly, some of the blame for the awkward classroom fiascos has to go to me.  With the simple and easy classes I usually have, I’ve gotten into the habit of winging a lot of things.  My lesson planning is usually lacking and all too often I find myself trying to come up with some engaging activity as I teach.  This can lead to more lackluster moments than I should have.  They are still bearable and not nearly so obvious in my other classes, though, because the students can seem content with an hour of worksheets or a few minutes of awkward silence as I scramble around in my head for some brilliant scheme.

Wit and Nai, on the other hand, demand the best from me.  They won’t stand for half-planned lessons and boring classes.  They are like my best teachers from my days on the other side of the red pen.  I’ve been taught not to try to explain a game as I invent it, not to try to serenade them with guitar–no matter how much they love the song–unless I really know how to play it, and not to give them a handful of books to fill in a few minutes at the beginning of class while I try to think up something else.  But today I was taught something else, something that I think is a little more important.

I was having a good day.  Despite being exhausted from my horrible sleeping patterns over the weekend, God had shown me some great stuff and taken away my worries.  I was enjoying life.  Then came this class, and the time when I asked my students to pull out some story books for a few minutes to warm up for the class (it’s reading comprehension).  After a few minutes, Nai finished her book.  There was still time left, so I pointed to a few other books and told her to start another.  She refused.  This annoyed me a little bit; my ego that wanted to be the loved and obeyed wise teacher was pricked.  So I tried getting stern and still she stubbornly refused, saying it was time to move on to the next part of the class.  I grudgingly shifted my attention to some other students for a little while, and then we moved on to the next segment.

Still unhappy with the situation, I was trying to come up with some kind of disciplinary action to impose, when something incredibly simple happened.  She asked me for help with something.  I think it was whether or not she had underlined the correct words in our reading for the day, but that’s unimportant.  I saw her face as she asked the question, and I was struck by the person she was.  I don’t know if it makes sense, maybe it was the childly transparent expression on her face, but it was disarming.  She hadn’t been trying to disrespect me earlier, she was just being herself and having fun.  She was a little girl, trying (sort of . . .) to learn English.  I saw how foolish I had been.  Teaching is never about creating a reputation and gaining respect.  It’s not even about having an orderly classroom.  There’s more–a great kind of responsibility and protection–that must be at the center of the relationship.  So I’d say one of the more recent things I’ve learned is that if I’m not teaching in love, I’m not worth learning from.

P.S.  This is definitely more than a week since my last post, so I’ve still got to work on my consistency, but it will get there.  I still haven’t decided on a specific day to post something every week, but I’ll let you know when I do.  For now, I’ll forgive you if you only check my blog once a month . . .

Parents came on December 18 (or sometime around then) and I think my bro came on the 20th.  Spent a few great days together in Bangkok, then on Tuesday the 22nd (still guessing) we were off to Suvarnabhumi International Airport for our flight to Bangaluru (Bangalore).   Got there in the middle of the night, somehow managed to find our rental car dealership, and drove for six hours to Kadapa SDA School.

Here is one great thing I will go into a little more detail on: when I first went to the Kadapa school, along with quite a few others from Rio, my academy, one of the most memorable things of the trip (not only for me, but I’m pretty sure for most of the others also) was the way the kids bellowed out their worship songs.  They may have not had the most on-key voices, but I don’t think I’ve heard very many voices louder or more amazing.  And so, as we arrived at the front gates of the school, at 6 AM after six hours of driving, we were greeted; not by people (it was only our family, not a big school group, and only a few knew we were coming) but by the  voices of a hundred Indian kids praising God in their morning worship across campus.  We found someone to let us in, got to our guest room, and promptly fell asleep after greeting a few friends.

With a beginning like that, how could the trip not be amazing.  We had Christmas there, and went to the Gondi Palli SDA church for a program and great lunch.  Then my mom made a delicious Christmas dinner as close to one back home as we could get it with the ingredients we found in the local markets.  It was closer than you might expect too.  We then went to a great Indian wedding on Saturday night and Sunday, maybe I will write  more about that later.  The next day we flew back to India.

Sometimes people say this just for effect, but I am being literal here.  When I stepped on the Thai Airways plane, and was greeted by a “Sawatdee ka” from the stewardess, I was hit by a wave of, just, happiness.  It wasn’t that I hadn’t enjoyed India, I’d had a blast.  But hearing those words brought me home.  I hadn’t realized up to that point how close Thailand had become to me.  It is now more than just a place I’ll be for a short while and fly away from to get back home.  I am home.  (I’m still going back to the States though, no worries.  And it will probably eventually become home again.  I just might have to head out this direction again someday.)

So, got back home, then Mom, Dad, and Rob flew out over the next few days.  And it was time for New Year’s.  On New Year’s Eve, about 6 hours after my brother flew out, my new roommate and now good friend, Brian, flew in.  Ted, Emilene and I picked him up at Suvarnabhumi, dropped his bags of at the room, and went straight to the New Year’s celebration at Central World, a huge mall in the middle of Bangkok.  Good thing he doesn’t have very much trouble with jet lag, because we hauled him around until 3 AM, and then were off at noon the next day to Asia Pacific International University (Mission College).

Time went on, God blessed, and we’ve all survived the intense days of teaching so far.  Since the new year, I’ve enjoyed a lot of things.  A couple cool guys, Nick (my cousin), and Ryan, came here on the 16th (I think) of January, on a completely different assignment.  I found out they were coming the day before they arrived, and then they ended up staying across the hall.  That has been another blast and blessing.  A few other good friends of mine, Bronsen and Henk, began a Wednesday evening prayer group, called the Garden of Prayer.  We’re literally planting things.  It has been great, reminds me of the wonderful times back at Andrews I was blessed with in a morning prayer group.

Went to Chiang Mai again, this time with Brian and his family.  Once again a beautiful weekend.  Put on a vespers program last Friday with Brian, Nick, and Ryan.  Working on another for this weekend.  Summer program starts tomorrow, so classes have piled up a little bit.  And it’s late.  Eleven forty-eight PM.  I’ve been so inspired by Camden and his routine blogging that I am now going to do my best to post something on a specific day every week.  I haven’t yet decided on the day though.  I’ll let you know when I do.

God bless.

“You keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on you, because he trusts in you.”  - Isaiah 26:3

“You, O LORD, keep my lamp burning; my God turns my darkness into light.  With your help I can advance against a troop; with my God I can scale a wall.”  - Psalm 18:28, 29

After grabbing a bite at 7-Eleven and reflecting about things on a footbridge over Sukhumvit Road, it got close to 9 o’clock and I decided to head back over.  I found my way back to the place easily enough and the owner was still there, but no sign of the team.  I went ahead anyways and was greeted by a man and a woman who owned and ran the boutique.  I introduced myself and we talked for a few minutes as we waited for everyone else to arrive.  They were a great Christian couple, and I got more and more excited as they related a few of their stories about this place with me.  Good things happen here.

About 20 or 30 minutes later, everyone arrived.  I met the staff, which at that time consisted of Chris, Keith, and Tyler, the one I’d talked with on the phone, and the team of 10 or 15 people that was currently working with the MST Project.  It was a great moment.  Here were some of the most serious and devoted followers of Christ I’d ever met.  All set on overcoming the sin in their members by God’s grace.

Chris started the night off, briefing us and setting the tone, and then we worshiped, prayed, and, after they anointed me with fish oil from the local 7-Eleven, split.  Part of the group stayed in the room to pray, and the other part hit the streets.  Half way through the night, we changed shifts.  For me, however, this night was not a reflection of the nights to come, so I won’t dwell on it too much.  The first shift, the three staff took me out to a shwarma (a middle eastern meat-filled burrito, I passed) shop to get to know me.  We talked, and they set out a rule: utter, complete honesty is the only way.  And that is the only way.  I’ve never gotten so real and so close to people that quickly in my entire life.  I can’t put strongly enough how gloriously real and necessary total honesty, based on deep foundations in God, is for any kind of real relationship.

I went out the second shift, now assured, dedicated, and inspired by the whole event.  I was still somewhat wary of what would come, but it went by smoothly.  We stood in groups of 3 at the entrance to the NEP (Nana Entertainment Plaza) and tried striking up conversations with the male tourists with the help of surveys.  The officials and people working left us alone.  I had to keep track of where my eyes strayed, and a few times I had to talk with the other 2 in my group and to God to refocus.  It was a calm beginning of things to come.

Nothing striking comes to memory from that night on the street, but since then I have seen a lot of very “wise” men with justifications for what they are doing, and a lot of confused men who don’t know what they are doing.  There are a few good stories I may get around to telling someday, and I’ve seen a few men begin to be healed.  As for the others, we can only pray–I don’t know what they take of what they hear.  But, whether they accept it or not, may God’s presence be in the middle of Nana Entertainment Plaza, and may some men find hope.

Nana Entertainment Plaza

Around a month and a half ago, I started looking for something more “missionary” like to do in my free time around Bangkok.  I sifted through a few pages online, and came across www.mstproject.com: the Men & the Sex Trade Project.  I decided to give it a try, so I sent in a volunteer application.  They accepted me and told me the plan.

My first night out came roughly 4 weeks ago, at around 7 PM on a Thursday.  I got in a song-taew headed to Sukhumvit Road.  At the Phra Khanong BTS station, I boarded the train bound for Mo Chit.  After about a minute into my fifteen minute ride I got a call from Tyler, one of the MST Project staff, saying they would be about an hour and a half late.  Ha.  Well, I arrived at Nana Station on time and went in search of Vashi’s Boutique, the tailor shop of a Christian man that was the designated meeting spot and our prayer room.  The address said it was on Soi 2, so that’s where I headed.  On the way, I passed Soi 4; a rowdy-looking street that was just beginning to liven up for the night.  I was relieved to find Soi 2 more calm and quiet, with just a few nice hotels.  I hadn’t been looking forward to searching through the tight and crowded red-light streets for some tailor shop that I had never seen before.

However, after walking down a ways, the lights of the hotels dimmed and the street seemed to just trail off into the night, with no tailor shop (or 7-11 that it was supposed to be next to) in sight.  So, after meandering around a little, trying to find some clue about where I was or where it could be, I came up with nothing and decided to head back to the main road.  Now the only option was Soi 4.

At the head of the street, there was a gift shop and a gas station.  I started down.  On the left, a row of bars immediately began.  On my right were a few bars and a hotel.  I kept going, and that’s when I met Nana Entertainment Plaza.  It rose up on the left–an ugly break in the already ugly row of bars and clubs, identified by a large sign broadcasting it’s name.

I didn’t look inside for more than a moment; I didn’t want to.  It was a narrow entrance to what looked like a larger plaza area.  There were so many red glowing signs that red light literally shone out onto the street (gives credence to the term “red-light district”).  People streamed in and out, past groups of women (many of whom were actually men) waiting to get a job for the night.  I can’t adequately describe it, but if you’ve come up with any kind of vision of the entrance to Hell, this would probably match it.  I don’t think I’ll be able to think on that subject anymore without the image of the gateway to Nana Entertainment Plaza coming to mind.

I kept going, and after actually getting grabbed by a few girls I walked too close to (sometimes you have to step off the sidewalk to stay out of “range”), I found the 7-11.  I went around the corner and was met by Vashi’s Boutique, sitting between two bars; an oasis in the desert.

With about an hour still to wait before the crew was expected to arrive, I took note of the shop’s location and went back to Sukhumvit.  I stayed clear of the women and kept my eyes straight ahead, and made it off of Soi 4.

Some friends have managed to literally post a comment on my wall!

Today, the 28th of October, I spent in class trying to bestow a little of my English expertise on my students, like usual.  Not an abnormal day.  For some reason, I’m not sure why, I spent quite a bit of time talking about Thanksgiving and Christmas with Arielle.  She mentioned how her mother had already started buying ingredients to prepare for Thanksgiving dinner, which is coming up in around a month.  Pretty early.  Then another teacher threw in a word, “you’ll get a package from Andrews for Thanksgiving–all the other SMs have.”  But we didn’t know how precise she would actually be.

As I entered the gate to my building for the night, the security guard held me up for a second and reached inside his little guard booth.   He came out smiling with a nice big package for me (as he handed it to me, he kept making explosion sounds and laughing to himself . . . funny guy–but that’s unrelated).  So I was pretty happy to see this.  I got into the light as I headed up to my room on floor 5, and guess what I read on the contents label: mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, and fri-chic.  This was my Thanksgiving dinner.  Thank you Andrews!

The pantry, now filled with a Thanksgiving feast just waiting to be cooked up!

I am excited.  Not only was it totally ironic how I spent so much more time than usual–than ever before, in fact–talking about the coming holidays today, only to receive my Thanksgiving package on my way to bed, but it is filled with a load of really good food, in addition to the Thanksgiving stuff.  This is my first time having two jars of peanut butter in my pantry at the same time (I still haven’t finished the jar from the first package–I conserve).  Also, they sent a package of the amazing Nature Valley Oats ‘N Honey granola bars!  I’m pretty psyched, these are definitely a step up from the Quaker Chewies I got in the last package (take note, Andrews . . . totally kidding, I’m happy for anything, I appreciate all you’ve done for me very much, you’ve gone above and beyond the call of duty).

But do you know what else I received that was sickest of all?  Five notes from fantastic friends at Andrews University!  Shout out to Kevin Magdamo (GYMNICS!), Lauren Snell, Jo McNeil, Rheba Correia, and April Grube (the only note writer who has sent a note in both of Andrews’ care packages).  Guys, seriously thanks a ton for writing these, I love ‘em.

So, as you go about your day today, know that as I drifted off into the world of slumber tonight I had you in my thoughts and in my heart, faithful friends from Andrews University . . .

. . . goodnight.

And it costs us dearly.  The normal Christian life is one that boasts only in the cross-the blazing center of God’s glory-and does it while bearing the cross.  ”Whoever does not bear his own cross and come after me cannot be my disciple” (Luke 14:27).   Bearing the cross is the means by which we are increasingly liberated to boast in the cross.  Suffering is God’s design in this sin-soaked world (Romans 8:20).  It portrays sin’s horror for the world to see.  It punishes sin’s guilt for those who do not believe in Christ.  It breaks sin’s power for those who take up their cross and follow Jesus.  And because sin is the belittling of the all-satisfying glory of God, the suffering that breaks its power is a severe mercy.

John Piper, Don’t Waste Your Life (Wheaton: Crossway Books, 2003), 62.

I was standing today in the dark toolshed.  The sun was shining outside and through the crack at the top of the door there came a sunbeam.  From where I stood that beam of light, with the specks of dust floating in it, was the most striking thing in the place.  Everything else was almost pitch-black.  I was seeing the beam, not seeing things by it.

Then I moved, so that the beam fell on my eyes.  Instantly the whole previous picture vanished.  I saw no toolshed, and (above all) no beam.  Instead I saw, framed in the irregular cranny at the top of the door, green leaves moving on the branches of a tree outside and beyond that, ninety-odd million miles away, the sun.  Looking along the beam, and looking at the beam are very different experiences.

I had never thought of the light analogy in this way.  It’s the most beautiful take on it I’ve ever seen.

You can find the original Lewis quote in “Meditation in a Toolshed” C. S. Lewis:  Essay Collection and Other Short Pieces (London: Harper Collins, 2000), 607.

http://www.wfp.org/1billion

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/World_Food_Programme

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/10/04/opinion/04williams.html?th&emc=th