Heart Is Full

I've said it so much in this past month, my heart is so very full.

7 months ago I left everything I knew to come to Cambodia. I left an amazing network of family and friends and came to a place where I knew nearly no one.

Now, I can say that there is a world of people here that I love with all of my heart and soul. I consider a lot of them to be like family to me. They have been there when I was having a bad day, and when I had great ones. I have cried, laughed, and more than anything had amazing fun with these people.

On top of that, my wonderful family contributed so that I could come back to the States for Christmas. This has been more of a blessing than anyone can ever know, as homesickness was kicking me in the butt recently.

Today it occurred to me that no matter where I go, there are people I will miss. While I'm excited to spend Christmas in the States, I will miss my Khmer friends and family so much. When I come back to Cambodia in February, I will miss my family and friends States-side. When I go to other countries in the years to come, I will miss them all.

And you know what? I wouldn't give that up for the world. Missing people is part of the joy of loving them, and I have come to love so many people. My heart is full- full of sadness and full of love, full of longing and hope. And a full heart is a wonderful heart.

Trump is President

I cried when I found out that Trump won the presidential election. I quickly searched the internet in hopes that it was all an awful joke, and then I cried.

I know it sounds mellow dramatic to some of you, but I truly am afraid of him as our president. It's not that he is going to build a wall or destroy the economy, the president only has so much legal power with the way our government is built. What scares me is that he encourages multitudes through fear and hatred. He has the ear of every American, of the world really, and he whispers in our ears all of the reasons we should separate from the other, all of the irrational fears that our lizard brains respond to so quickly.

In my travels I have seen the destruction caused by hateful people in power. Genocides in history, many of which are very recent, have always been triggered by someone being in power who expressed fear and hatred of a certain people group. Whether its the Jews, the blacks, the women, or the educated... when we live out of this place of hate, people are killed and nations tumble. Maybe it won't be so bad for us, I pray that instead this is a wake up call for why we need more love in our world. But it's still a scary thought. I live in a country that went through a genocide only 40 years ago, and the story already sounds all too familiar.

This has really affected me the past couple days. I haven't been able to sleep, I've been on the edge of an anxiety attack. But I realized something recently...

There is a woman here who I look up to and admire so much. She is beautiful from the inside out. She loves the other, she gave up her comfortable life to move to a country where she could spread love more effectively. She handles conflict with grace and humor, she meets difficulties with poise and love. She's amazing, and I aspire to be like her someday. I recently came to say hello to her and she expressed how upset she was by some of the social media surrounding Trump's win. She was in favor of Trump, she expressed that this doesn't make her racist or hateful or corrupt. She talked about how she is living in an extremely corrupt and dangerous country by choice, that doesn't make her and her family corrupt or evil.

And you know what I realized? I realized that good people voted for Trump. 

Not all of them, many Trump supporters have voted for him out of hatred. But I think some did it out of pure intentions, whether it be their upbringing, circle of friends, level of education, whatever it is... There are good-hearted, loving people who voted for Trump.

So instead of focusing on my anger and fear, I'm going to focus on my love for people, Trump supporters or otherwise. Because if I live my life out of anger, I'm no better than Trump is. I can still grieve what is happening to my home country, but I will not be controlled by it.

One of my favorite bands has a song lyric, "If it's us or them, it's us for them". Trump and some of his supporters live in an us or them world. They live in the mentality that if we don't destroy the minorities, they will destroy us. It's a deadly and scary way to live. It's tempting for me to hate the other, to hate republicans, conservative Christians, and womanizers. But I will fight every day to do the opposite, I will seek to see these people for who they are at their core, for the goodness inside of them rather than their prejudice. This doesn't mean to live naively and it doesn't mean I have to be happy with corruption and hate, but I will not fight fire with fire.

Imagine growing up with incredibly rich, powerful, and hardworking parents. Suppose you were only praised for your success and ability to find power. Your parents send you away as soon as you are a teenager, they send you to a military school in the hopes that you will become disciplined and successful. You fight your whole life for wealth, for power and the approval you never fully received. One day, you become the most powerful man in the country, in the world maybe. Then you wake up  and realize you still aren't enough for the fatherly affection you have fought for your entire life. The father that isn't even alive to see your "success". 

I'm not saying we should all love Trump and fall at his feet. But I have come to believe that the most disgusting, hateful people are just children. The pimps, the dictators and abusers of the world- they are all just frightened children fighting to be loved. 

Good people voted for Trump. Good people voted for Hillary. Good people will be hurt because of what happened here. Let's choose to love all of these people. Let's see this as a reason to wake up and decide to care for the other.

If it's us or them, it's us for them. 

Knocking Over Jenga Towers

I have been struggling a lot lately with feeling like a square peg in a round hole.

I absolutely love the people I work with and the community I'm a part of here in Cambodia. The beauty of missionaries is that they have seen the Love and come away believing that the best way to act that out is love the world. It's truly beautiful, and being in this community has taught me to have a lot more grace for Christians where I used to have hostility and anger.

But the difficult part of this is that most of these people hold a very conservative, straight-forward view of much of the world. And while I honor where they are at (I spent most my life in the same place), I know that I am in a very different place right now. Add on top of that some of the self discovery I have been doing and the realization that deep down I feel like a fake, like if people realize who I really am they will run for the hills. This led me to a place of wanting to advertise my beliefs so that I could watch and see who would leave. It's a strange cycle, I want to prove people hate me by doing things that make them hate me. Terrible, I know. I told you guys I'm working on a lot of inner-healing right now.

The flip side of this is that I am deeply terrified of harming someone else's faith. The people around me have a beautiful faith that leads them to make the world a better place, who am I to interfere with that? Even if I currently believe some of their ideas are harmful, there is much more good coming from them than bad.

So I consulted three of the wisest people I know- my amazing father, my pastor (thanks Aaron!), and Mother Teresa. Through a lot of contemplative prayer and their encouragement, here's what I have come to realize.

• I'm great at loving people where they are at if they are a hungry child or a hurting prostitute. But I suck at loving people where they are at when they are in a religious system I grew up in. I think this is less about them and more about me. I am still angry at myself for the beliefs I used to hold, so I transfer that to the people who still hold those same beliefs. This isn't loving, this is hurtful. I need to learn to love my neighbor and myself if I'm going to overcome this. 
• Love is shown, not spoken. In St Francis' words, "Always preach the Gospel. When necessary, use words". Mother Teresa lived this by never attempting to convert people, but instead by being Jesus to them. This Love of the Divine, this Gospel, is so big that when we reduce it to arguments of Heaven or Hell and Straight or Gay, we destroy it. The only way to truly preach this idea is to live it out in our daily interactions. 
• Life is a journey, not a test. My faith used to be like a massive Jenga tower. I couldn't let go of one theological idea, because if I did the whole thing would come tumbling down. In the long run, that is exactly what happened. I was so obsessed with right answers and following the "Basic Instructions Before Leaving Earth" that I nearly gave up on the amazing journey that life and spirituality is. And you know what? If someone would have told me this when I was in that place, if someone would have knocked over my Jenga tower, I would have quite literally died (at my own hands). It took Love slowly creeping in for me to be ready to just let the Jenga game go. If I come to people attempting to knock down their Jenga towers, I hurt them and lose sight of the Meaning behind it all. 

So over time I'm sure more of my beliefs will come to light. I am by no means keeping a secret or hiding who I am and what I believe. But I am deciding that what I believe does not have to be the first thing I tell someone. Rather than focusing on where I differ from other people in ideals and beliefs, I want to focus on the Love and Life that unites us. Everything else can flow from that. 

You're Freaking Beautiful

In Cambodia, I get called beautiful on a daily basis. It's the stranger in the market, the grandma in the village, the TukTuk driver stopped next to me in traffic, it's everywhere. Now by Western standards, my looks are pretty average, and I'm totally cool with that. But here, they think I am a rare, exotic creature. It really got me thinking about how we define beauty based on the culture we are raised in.

I told my friends here that in America some people will sit in the sun or put lotions on their skin to make their skin darker. One girl laughed uncontrollably at that absurd idea, another asked me, "Why do Americans want to look like poor people?". Ouch. In this culture, being dark means you are from a lineage of farmers or other professions that work out in the sun. To have light skin is to distinguish yourself as someone of high status, someone rich and influential. If you see a Khmer person on TV or in an advertisement, they will without  a doubt have skin 5 shades lighter than any of the other Khmer folks walking around the city.

So SouthEast Asians will bleach their skin with all sorts of chemicals to try to appear beautiful, and Westerners will give themselves cancer from excessive tanning to try to appear beautiful. How absurd is this? Whatever your skin tone is, it is the most beautiful skin tone in the world to someone else.

It's not just skin though, it's everything. Khmer people always want to touch my curly hair, they think it's amazing and wish they could have it for themselves. Meanwhile, I spent so many hours in high school straightening my hair wishing it had that sleek, smooth look that is so common here. They wish they had curvier bodies like mine, while I look at their petite, graceful bodies and think they are gorgeous.

This isn't just for women, there are double standards for men as well. American girls will ooze over a man with a strong, defined jaw. Whereas Koreans will eye the fellow with a thinner, V-shaped jawline.

We are all desperately wishing for the thing we don't have. Spending countless hours trying to look like something other than what we are. And for what? In an effort of trying to be beautiful in one culture we destroy the beauty that is uniquely our own.

So guess what? You are beautiful. 

I don't care if you're tall or short, fat or thin, brown or black of freaking green! You're beautiful to someone, and you're beautiful to me.

The Power of Education

What if I told you there was something that could do all of the following?

• Increase your lifespan. 
• Increase the income for yourself and those around you. 
• Decrease your risk of contracting myriad diseases.
• Grant you access to more countries in the world. 
• Promote gender equality. 

And so much more... The list goes on and on. The positive effects of higher education for an individual are amazing, even more so for an educated society/country. 

Yet with all of the advantages education provides, so much of the world is denied that opportunity. It's a tough problem to fix too. When we see a malnourished child we are triggered and emotionally invested, then in turn we can quickly and easily feed this child. If we see a child that doesn't go to school, we think little of it; Despite the fact that the child is much more likely to die of starvation or a preventable disease as they age because they have missed out on the knowledge they could have had. I'm not saying we shouldn't feed malnourished children, that is an important and urgent need. But we should take it a step further and look at the entire life of this person, recognizing that as they grow  one of the best gifts we can give them is an education. 

Today we had our Back To School party for our School Support kids. The ministry I work with pays the price for these children to go to school, along with the cost for uniforms, backpacks, notebooks, shoes, pencils, pens, etc... Seeing the kids faces when they received these items was such an honor, it felt like Christmas morning. If these kids can stick through it, their quality of life will be dramatically increased because of what this organization is doing. Not only that, but the leaders also encouraged the parents about keeping their children in school when times are tough. This is so important in the developing world, where children are frequently sent to work to pay the family bills. 

Today reminded me once again of all the amazing things happening in the world. It reminded me that hope is not lost, that the world really is becoming a better place. Today over 40 children's lives were changed, and they will continue to be a positive change in their community. This is exciting, folks. It's only getting better. 

Homesick

Christianity speaks of this idea that the world is not our home. I think this idea can become dangerous at times. Too often it leads to groups of people with no regard for the planet and people around them. It can cause us to look toward some other time and place rather than being present in the here and now. 

Yet at the same time, something in that idea rings true. We can never really capture this idea of "home". We buy big houses and fill them with nice furniture. We find comfortable places and try to keep them as they are to retain the moments they held. But it's never quite enough. We chase the feeling of home, trying to pin it to one place. Americans are more transient than ever, we move from one place to the next seeking out the one place we can call home, the place that will make us whole. Somehow we are more lonely than ever before, emotionally, physically and spiritually homeless. 

I don't consider the town my family lives in to be home. It's a wealthy, religious, and safe city. With homes made for Pinterest and people made for Instagram. Designer bags, luxury cars, and clean parks. It is disgustingly beautiful. But when I look back at memories in that house and that city, at family devotions going an hour late because we couldn't contain our laughter, that is what I call home. Home has never been where I lived, but the moments of connection... Wherever they may be. 

I have felt home at a concert, belting out songs as if each one of us were a rockstar, unified by our times of heartbreak. I have felt home in my father's office, sitting together through the hours of the night, until I was too exhausted to go through with killing myself. I have felt home in the rubble of a natural disaster. I have felt home singing hymns with a group of strangers. I have felt home overlooking the rice fields of Cambodia. I have felt home singing my baby brother to sleep, protecting him from the screams reverberating through our house. I have felt home among the homeless. I have felt home meeting God in a Buddhist temple. I have felt home laying in a field and looking up at the stars. 

I think home is found when we stop looking. It's found in the moments where we are so present that everything else fades away. It's an experience rather than a place. The more I travel the more sure I am that no place will ever be home. Whether I settle down with a husband and 2.5 kids or spend the rest of my life as a single vagabond, I will always and never be home. 

Learning to be a feminist...

I've been pretty anti-feminism growing up. Ask people who have known me a long time, they will tell you that I used to outright say that men were superior to women, better-looking, smarter, stronger, better everything.

Awful, I know.

But growing up, the women in my life were the people that hurt me the most. Whereas the men in my life (my father especially) protected me and cared for me. If I were to meet two people, one man and one woman, my gut reaction would be to trust the man and fear the woman. In my mind, I will naturally deem women untrustworthy if I don't make a serious effort to do otherwise.

That being said, I'm beginning to realize how dangerous that thinking is. For one, my sister is a hard-core feminist. She frequently rants about how women are misrepresented and harmed by our culture and throughout history. She doesn't sit quietly when people demean women whether it be outright or subtle. Even if you say something like "give her the girl toy", one of her catchphrases is "items don't have a gender". She recently introduced me to her non-gender conforming toy seal. I love that about her. When she cares about a cause, she doesn't just think about it from time to time, she lets it inform her decisions and interactions with the world around her. I look up to her in that sense, and I'm so excited to see how this part of her develops as she learns to be slightly less abrasive and gains more wisdom.

Also, being in Cambodia has opened my eyes to the extreme side of anti-feminism. The patriarchal parts of American society struck me as annoying at times, but nothing more. I would shrug off things like cat-callers or the wage-gap, telling myself it was just how things work. But here, you see what happens when that sort of culture is brought to the extreme. Here, men can have as many partners as they want, but if a woman dares to talk to another man without her husband's okay, he is allowed to beat her and leave her without any repercussions. Even worse, these women are then considered worthless for not pleasing their husbands. Most of them have to resort to prostitution because in the culture's eyes, they lose all value as a human without their husband. This isn't rare, this is common practice.

There's a saying in Cambodia-
Men are like gold; if you drop them in the mud, wipe them off and move on.
Women are like paper; if you drop them in the mud, throw them away.

I'm beginning to realize that I cannot be for women in some circumstances and not others. Being beat to death is worse than being cat-called, but it comes from the same motivation. When we devalue an entire group of people for something they cannot control, that is damaging. Whether that devaluing of them leads to something annoying or something deadly, it still is not okay.

I told one of my close friends that I think I'm becoming a feminist. She was a bit annoyed with this and talked about how "those" feminists are so extreme and demean men, some even saying that we should try to live without them entirely. I'm with her, I think that's ridiculous. I, for one, am very fond of men. But I don't think the extremists of any movement should stop us from seeing the good in the movement itself. Most days, I like to call myself a Christ-follower or Christian. I would like to be able to say I'm a Christian without being homophobic, misogynistic, or racist. I'd like to take back that title from the people who have misused it. I'd like to do the same with feminism. To me, it's not about burning bras or hating men, it's about seeing people as whole, valuable human beings regardless of their gender.

So here I am, learning to be a feminist. It will take some discipline on my part to change my natural thought processes when it comes to women, but I think it's worth it.

A Life of Fear

Today Cambodia is celebrating one of the biggest holidays of the year, it's called Pchum Benh. The city is a ghost town as almost everyone has gone back to their home province to celebrate with their families. It's the Christmas of Cambodia, all the family around the country and all the kids at university go back home to be with their family.

That being said, Pchum Benh is very different than a lot of holidays. The premise of Pchum Benh is that the underworld is somehow more open and that ancestors return to their family homes. If the family has done the necessary rituals of temple visits, sacrifices, etc... then they are safe. However, if the family's rituals were not enough or not done properly, the ancestors will curse them, bringing illness and bad fortune. The reality is that a lot of people are terrified of this holiday. They are nervous about not doing the right tasks or scared that their children won't take part as they should.

I have a friend who said when he first became Christian and didn't do the rituals, he was so scared that spirits were going to come for him during this holiday, he would have nightmares about the consequences of his inaction.

Now a lot of my readers in the Western world will read this and think of it as primitive, maybe even silly. But really, it's not that far fetched. When we act out of fear, we do crazy things to try and protect ourselves. Things that are counterintuitive and don't make logical sense.

My heart is broken for my country right now because a majority of it is living out of fear. We are afraid of terrorists, so we discriminate against an entire people group. Tell me how that makes sense? Fear is a powerful force. It makes us do things that we believe will protect us, whether there is evidence of that protection or not.

I used to live a large portion of my life out of fear. I won't leave this house because I'm afraid of who will be the scapegoat if I do. I won't leave this relationship because I'm afraid of what you will do to yourself if I do. I won't go for that new job because I'm afraid of hurting the people at my old job. The list goes on... I just primarily made decisions based on what I thought would be the least scary option. That's how Cambodian culture lives, right now that is American politics. It's a terrible way to live.

Suppose we lived out of anticipation rather than fear? Instead of being afraid of what the changes will bring, what if we got excited about the adventures ahead? Some of the best experiences of my life have been the times when nothing went according to plan, and that's okay. I think it's time we looked in the mirror and figured out why we are doing the things we are, whether it be a job, relationships, education, etc... If we are doing it out of fear, let's let it go. Life is too short to live afraid.

They Call Me Mercy

My name, Mercedes, means "mercies" or "mercy". Growing up my mom and her side of the family called me Mercy, it was always a little endearing and special.

When I first came here, I very quickly realized that "Mercedes" was very difficult for Cambodians to say. "Cedes" wasn't any easier, as the sounds in there are not sounds that their language really has. I realized that I needed a nickname. I told my leader that back home some people call me Mercy, he said that was perfect. People really like the name here. It has become more comfortable to me than my full name, I even call myself Mercy when I talk to myself. (Yes, I talk to myself. Don't you judge me!)

But it got me thinking about the things we do to make ourselves more open to those around us. I'm not talking about being fake so people will like us. I mean letting go of the little things we use to tell the world who we are.

Paul said, "Even though I am free of the demands and expectations of everyone, I have voluntarily become a servant to any and all in order to reach a wide range of people: religious, nonreligious, meticulous moralists, loose-living immoralists, the defeated, the demoralized—whoever. I didn’t take on their way of life. I kept my bearings in Christ—but I entered their world and tried to experience things from their point of view. I’ve become just about every sort of servant there is in my attempts to lead those I meet into a God-saved life. I did all this because of the Message. I didn’t just want to talk about it; I wanted to be in on it!" (MSG)

I think there is something to be said for this, for being open enough to let go of your ego for the sake of connecting to others. There's certain things we use to define ourselves- the music we listen to, the clothes we wear, our political party or religion. Here, those things don't mean the same things to people as they do back home. In the States, if I were to say I was a Christian-Universalist who loved every genre of music but country and only bought used clothes, you would form certain opinions about me. Here, most people don't know what a single one of those words means. You learn to define yourself in new ways.

And it made me realize that we are so much more than the things we use to define ourselves. We are more than our taste or talents, even more than our names. That is all flexible, that will all change. You can be your authentic self while still letting go of most of the things you use to describe yourself. Because we are more. So call me by the name you prefer, define me by my work or religion or ethnicity. I will still be more than that. Sometimes we need to let go of what we are to truly know who we are.

P.S. If you aren't in on the Newsletter yet, jump on it! This has the less emotional, more substantial updates of my life here. Sort of completes the puzzle of this journey. 

This is Why I Call One Church My Home Church

This has nothing to do with my time here in Cambodia. But bear with me, because when I love something I want to express it. And this is me doing just that.

I've had issues with "church" since I was about 12 years old. I was angry at the church, angry at what it had become. Angry at preachers who molested children. Angry at men who showed up with their beautiful families on Sunday morning, then beat them within an inch of their lives Sunday night. I was angry at family members attempting to exorcise demons from me when I did not meet their expectations. I was angry at people who beat my dear friend with a Bible because of her sexual orientation.

I was angry. 

Most of all, I was angry because I felt like the church dynamic had taken something beautiful from me. I had a belief system that gave me purpose, it made me feel loved and safe regardless of my situation. But when I tried to share it, it was connected to this sick, twisted idea of church and religion. 

I went through phases with church services. For a while I refused to go, then I went on rare occasions, eventually I went on my own accord... but with a torn apart heart. I hated that church had become about a building and a brand, but I thought it was necessary to go in order to stay close to this god I loved. 

That is, until I didn't love god anymore. When I lost my faith a couple years ago, I gave up religious services all together. For the first time in my life, I hated religion AND god. I swore I'd never step foot in a church building again, because I finally didn't feel obligated to appease an imaginary deity. 

Long story short, I learned to love God again. Not the same god I grew up with. A very different God, an inclusive and non-judgemental God. I learned that there was a branch of Christ Followers that didn't have to hate the other. They didn't have to argue about heaven or hell, gay or straight, black or white- because faith and belief was so much bigger than that. 

But I was still so alone. The Christians around me accused me of making up my own God. How could I believe in Heaven without Hell? How could I believe in metaphor? How dare I be okay with more than one form of sexuality? So I clung to this God I found, but I let go of Christianity and Church. 

Until one day I walked into One Church. Within the first service, the pastor spoke about doubting God. He spoke about God existing and allowing children to suffer and not being sure that there was a good answer for that. I was so relieved. It was as if I finally had permission to love God, people, and science all at once. As I got to know the community there, I found that they were all fellow searchers. They grew up Catholic, Lutheran, Baptist, Athiest, gay, straight, all of the above. They didn't dress and talk the same, they didn't even all agree on spiritual values. And it was beautiful. 

I've met some of the most amazing people at One Church. They inspire me with their life stories, with their journeys and legacies. They are radical in the way Jesus was, radical in the sense that they are willing to love people from all walks of life. Even if it meant receiving death threats and condemnation in the process. 

So here I am, the girl who used to slash her wrists after church because it hurt so much is writing about why she loves church. Because if someone would have told me years ago that church could be a safe place, I would have laughed in their face. 

Really, the words we use are too small. Church, God, religion- they cannot contain the nature of the divine and the wholeness of community. Even if the word church is not enough for it, One Church is a community of people unlike any other I've found. I miss them, I love them, and I think of them daily as they go trough times of transition and learning. 

P.S. If you have found that church is too small for you and you're living Stateside, I'd encourage you to checkout the Open Network. They are a network of faith communities committed to being inclusive and loving. If someone would have told me years ago that this was an option, it would have saved me from so much heartache. 

I'm sorry... and you're welcome. :) 

The Tables Have Turned

I recently had the opportunity to join in the YWAM Cambodia staff conference. Over 300 people from around the country that are a part of the missions organization I work under joined in a great conference. A few things that struck me in the whole experience:

1.During the conference, the ministry I work with managed the childrens' program. Since these are all missionary kids, they mostly spoke English. This was awesome because I was able to really interact and connect with them. They told me what God was saying to them, they asked questions, we talked about their lives and favorite places they have been. It was fantastic, and it reminded me how much I love being able to really connect with children and hear what's on their little hearts. If I'm being honest, it gave me a twinge of homesickness, and made me even more anxious to begin my Khmer classes.

2. I work in a great community. The people I work with and around are such kind, loving people. I was surrounded by people who all had given their lives to caring for people. The atmosphere in a place like that is so warm and heartfelt, it's such an honor to be near all of them.

3. Now, this one is the kicker, the reason I wanted to write a blog about this in the first place.

With this being the 25th anniversary of YWAM in Cambodia, they had some of the people who were here in the first years talk about the experience. I learned that when YWAMers first came here, they worked in the refugee camps. Remember that there was a massive genocide here only 40 years ago, and war in the surrounding area as well. This was a pretty dark place. Yet, these people came and cared for the refugees, for those displaced by the horrors of war.

In a time where refugees are such a big issue, I found this to be so important. Decades ago, there were people caring for refugees here in Cambodia. Back in the States, I know organizations and people who are giving their all to care for refugees today. And while I am appalled by how some people handle and speak about the current refugee situation, I also am encouraged by the fact that throughout different times and places there are people stepping up to care for those whose lives have been torn apart by war.

But wait, here is the most beautiful part of this story- at the conference there were missionaries who were working with refugees in Europe. The Khmer people took up an offering and gave money to support those refugees in Europe. Let me say that again, the Khmer people gave money to help refugees. The people who were refugees themselves a short while ago are now able to give to help refugees across the world. Those who were once victims have become the ones helping the victimized. Is there anything more redemptive than that?

This country is still dealing with some of the effects of the Khmer Rouge in their culture. Yet they are now strong enough to care for those who are where they have been.

I think sometimes we are afraid to help people in a situation we went through because it hits close to home and can bring us back to feeling helpless. Yet all around me, I see the hope and beauty of reaching out to those whose experiences mirror our past. Former sex-slaves become social workers, those who were abused become counselors, and the refugees of yesterday care for the refugees of today. The tables keep turning, and all we can do is give people a hand when we are on the upside.

P.S. If you are interested in doing something about the refugee situation, take a look at this page on my website, there are a few organizations on there that are working directly with the refugee crisis.

A Hand Up Or A Hand Out

There are a lot of NGOs (non-government organizations) in Cambodia. Everywhere you go you meet people who are here to do good for the Khmer people. Some provide food, some education, some safety. It truly is beautiful, so many people from around the world saw that this place was in need and came to help.

Being in this environment where people are doing good left and right, I really began to realize that there are two different mentalities when it comes to helping people.

First, there are handouts. Now handouts are great to a certain extent. When someone is dying from starvation or illness, they just need to be well. The first focus should be giving this person food and care, expecting nothing from them. Sometimes you are so stuck in the cycles of poverty, disease, and slavery that you have nothing to give. This is where we need people to step up and care for the unreached and unloved without expecting anything more from people.

But after someone is fed, healthy and free, we need to do more. You can provide food for someone everyday for the rest of their life. But then what have you done? You've fed them, yes, and that is great. What about their value as a human being though? What about their ability to create and find meaning in life?

A friend here told me about a recent conversation with a local woman. The woman told her daughter that she shouldn't bother trying to go to school, because if she goes to a certain place they will give her rice every day. This woman had been trained for so long to simply take handouts that she saw no reason to work and want more out of life.  To the extent that she would take the opportunity of an education away from her young daughter. This isn't to say that the organization giving rice was bad, it just means we need to do continue beyond that.

Then there's the alternative, of helping people while simultaneously teaching them how to help themselves. For example, the organization I work with has helped a family (and is in the process of helping another) by building a cricket farm in their home. They bought all of the materials, did the research, and then taught the family. Now the family raises and sells crickets. They are able to provide for themselves each month with a sustainable trade. They have stability in their lives and they have value in knowing that they worked for what they have. Instead of feeling like their income could disappear on the whim of some NGO, they are secure in knowing that they can provide for themselves as long as they want to.

Again, I'm not saying anything against organizations whose main focus is a handout, because that is necessary sometimes. I'm just saying that I see the contrast now, and in different situations each option has its strengths.

Bear with me, I'm trying to be vulnerable here.., I think that most of my life I have had a handout mentality. Giving someone a handout is quick and easy. I think my pride led me to seek after things where I could help quickly and look like the hero rather than taking the time to provide guidance. If someone was overwhelmed with a project, I'd take the project on myself rather than helping them through it. I'd clean the entire house on my own (humble-bragging the entire way through) instead of teaching the kids how to do part of it. This leaked into most areas of my life- work, family, friendships, school... I actually gave up a mostly paid for education to be at home with a family that probably could have survived without me. We look down on parents in this country taking their kids out of school and forcing them to work instead, but I did that exact thing to myself.

Honestly, I never saw how damaging that was to myself and the people around me. I'm just now starting to realize the destruction caused by living that way. When you see a cycle of endless handouts, you see people who are fed, but dehumanized and incapable.

That's all I have to say on this one, let's aim for more. Let's be gracious and give handouts where they are needed, but then give people a hand-up. Rather than assisting within a cycle, let's end the cycle and provide new beginnings.

Prayer and People- SOJ Summer 2016

Hey folks! I'm a little late to the game, but I wanted to post a bit about my experience on the Steps of Justice trips in July. For those of you who don't know, Steps Of Justice is the amazing organization that I originally came to Cambodia with 4 years ago. This year, I had the pleasure of co-leading two summer trips.

With each Steps of Justice trip that I've been on I find there is a theme of sorts. Each team has its own dynamic, and I learn so much from each thing we do. Still, with each trip I feel like there is something being worked on in my own heart. The struggles that I'm already trying to figure out are lit up and seriously accelerated. It's tough, but helpful.

Prayer
On the first trip I think the thing that was really being worked on is my heart towards prayer. During my deconstruction over these past two years I started to take issue with how people pray nowadays. It upset me to think that “god” could save someone from an illness, but would only do so if I decided to pray for them. You can apply this to a hundred different things, changing a country, giving someone peace, etc... If god is all-powerful he shouldn't need us to ask in order for him to act. I became pretty calloused toward the whole idea. I began to only practice meditative or contemplative prayer, I still find these to be helpful on a daily basis, but I'm beginning to pray like I used to on some occasions.

I also had the opportunity of meeting people on this trip who put a huge value on prayer. I saw the authenticity of their prayer and began to see the beauty in it again. I think back home I started to see people praying like those Pharisees on the street corners, so I disassociated from it. I threw the baby out with the bathwater.

I have a friend here who works in the red light district. She is beautiful and I love her. Each time I saw her, she would enthusiastically ask me to pray for her. So I did.. I prayed with fervor, I prayed for her heart and body, for her family, for her past and future, anything and everything. Each night when she asked again, I would pray again. It was the deepest and hardest I've prayed in quite some time. Since that trip, I've found that I am more quick to go to prayer for comfort and encouragement.

People
On the second trip, I was really dealing with how I connect to people and where they are at. I'm an introvert at heart, but I love being with people at the same time. I have always had people in my life who made an effort to connect with me. Lately, it's been the other way around. If I want to connect with people, I need to make a serious effort. The people on the trips sometimes need to be coaxed out of their shells, and I'm not used to being the one to do the coaxing.

Back in the States, I have dear friends who put forth so much effort to connect with me. They know who they are, and I am SO grateful for them. I'm realizing now how difficult it must be for them to always make attempts without knowing whether or not I'll respond and meet them halfway. I want to be better at this. I'm still bad at social media and communicating from afar, but I want to make more of an effort to meet people where they are at rather than forcing them to come to me every time. I'm realizing that even introverts like myself crave a certain level of connection with people.

On top of this, I am realizing all over again how much I love to hear people's stories and thoughts. Each person I have met is so unique and amazing. They all have their own histories and ideas that are one of a kind, and it is such an honor to know them. I can say with complete honesty that I deeply love the people who have been on these trips and cannot wait to see their lives continue to unfold.

There is so much more I've learned on this trip, a novel couldn't contain it all. I've learned more about the dynamics of mission work whether it be short or long term, I've had conversations with so many people that have me thinking about different pieces of my belief system, I've had the opportunity of watching my sister and others grow in new ways. It has been lovely.

I can't wait to do it all over again!

El Roi- My First Tattoo

I recently got my first tattoo. The tattoo is one of God's Hebrew names within the outline of Cambodia. I have wanted this particular name of God to be tattooed on my body for many years.

There is a story in Genesis 16 of an Egyptian woman named Hagar. Hagar was a slave, she was forced to sleep with her owner because his wife could not bear children. Once she was pregnant, she was hated and abused by her owner's wife. Eventually she ran away because she could not take the abuse any longer. So there she was, pregnant and alone in a desert. At the low point of her life she was left to die with no support from those around her. In the midst of this, God came to her. He asked her, "Where have you come from and where are you going?". He assured her and comforted her in her weakness, when she was utterly alone.

In this moment, Hagar named him El Roi- The God Who Sees. She had now seen the God who always saw her.

For years I have had a deep love for this small story in a book of many stories. I think it is uniquely beautiful. In this collection of books called the Old Testament we see time and time again that the God of the Jews steps in for His chosen people. But in this story, He steps in for someone who is not His chosen people, someone who is on the outside. Yet he loves her all the same. He doesn't take her suffering away, he doesn't change her circumstance, but he tells her that she will be okay, He understands her past and will bless her future.

I have spent more nights than I would like to admit crying out to God-
Where the hell did You go? Why have You left me alone? Will You leave me to bleed out in this desert? 

Time and time again the answer has been, "I see you. I know where you have come from and I know where you are going. I will bless you."

This has been a comfort to me during rough times, when my depression and suicidal tendencies nearly got the best of me it was these words that pulled me through. They still do.

In recent years, this name of God has taken on a second meaning for me as well. Coming to Cambodia and seeing the horrors of their past and present days nearly broke me. Again I asked God where He was. I begged him to explain why He acted in my life in the western world but allowed millions to be slaughtered and abused here on the other side of the globe. How could He let them be treated in such horrific ways? I still wrestle with this on many days.

Yet again, the answer I received was that He sees. He knows that Cambodia was once a world superpower. He knows that not too long ago Cambodia was beaten down and destroyed by genocide. He didn't take the suffering away, He didn't change the circumstance, but he will bless her future. Working here, each and every day I am seeing evidence of Cambodia having a blessed future. Life is still tough here, but it is better each day.

So this tattoo is the permanent expression of my shared experience with this country. We have been abused and beaten down, but more importantly we have been seen and loved by the Divine. We are better each day.

The Child of Cambodia

Part of the Steps trips is going to Wat Phnom, a temple in the capital of Cambodia. This temple has hills, paths and greenery surrounding it, it truly is beautiful. However, because  the temple was started by a woman, it is seen as less than compared to other temples. This leads to it being a common hangout for prostitutes and former prostitures. If a woman ages out of prostitution but still needs money to feed her children, she will often spend her days and nights at the temple with the children, begging for money from tourists. 

In the last Steps trip when I was at the temple a little 4 year old girl whose mother was begging noticed me. She climbed up very steep stairs to come to me, stairs that were too steep to climb back down. Her mom was preoccupied with another baby and didn't notice she had come up to me. So I took her hand and we walked around the temple to find steps we could go down. We found a stairway and I carried her down to bring her back to her mother. 

I was struck with three thoughts. 

1. This child is the epitome of trust and love. She doesn't care who I am or what I've done, she wants me to love her. She wants to hugged and be held, she longs for someone to care for her. Even when we gave her a cookie, her priority was making sure I had enough to eat. She cared so deeply, with so little expectation. 

2. This child is so vulnerable. Technically she had a parent, but this parent didn't have the energy or ability to fully care for her. If she went up to another stranger, she could have been trafficked in a second, never to be seen again. She had no one watching to be sure she was safe, and no justice system that would have sought her out if she was taken. 

3. This child is Cambodia. She is loving, she is vulnerable, she is beautiful. She is growing so quickly that I can't even keep track. She is delicate but strong, and hopeful despite her trials. 

I love Cambodia. The pain and corruption within these borders is sometimes more than I can bear, but the hope and love is more than I can find anywhere else. 

Faith

1. (n) Complete trust or confidence in someone or something. 

2. (n) Strong belief in God or in the doctrines of a religion. 

Growing up in a Christian environment you hear a lot about faith. You're supposed to speak about your faith, walk by faith, and not hide your faith. In all of this, I think faith became less about the first definition of trust and confidence and instead took on the second definition of doctrine. Looking at it now, it makes me sad. It's like someone saying they "love" burgers. It brings a beautiful, intense word down to a very shallow place. 

To the Christian culture I have lived a life of faith. I never made a tragic, rebellious decision. I have walked friends and strangers through the "Sinner's Prayer". I volunteered, I taught, I sang with my arms raised. I had this stuff locked down. 

But now, being in a different country and having no idea where I belong or what I need to do, I am truly living by faith for the first time in my life. I'm not talking about doctrine, I'm talking about trust. I'm walking through the wilderness and hoping that the guide will show up. I'm praying for my family without having the option to manipulate the outcome of those prayers. I'm looking for my place without knowing whether or not it actually exists. It's scary stuff. 

There's a reason trust-falls strengthen a team or relationship, it's because trusting is hard. I think it's against our nature to trust someone else with our lives or future, that's why we work so hard to hold our lives in our own hands. We get comfortable jobs, sturdy houses, and easy going friends. We hope that we can construct a stable life where we don't have to deeply rely on any one person. If one person we trusted abandons us, we can be jaded for years or even a lifetime. But then what are we left with? A funeral and a comfortable house for our friends to mourn in. 

I think there has to be something more. I want to have faith in my life, whether it relates to my relationships, lifestyle, or belief system. I want to trust in the extreme. It may be a bit more uncomfortable, but I choose to believe it will be more rewarding. 

Muslims

Today there was a prayer meeting among YWAMers in Phnom Penh (YWAM is the organization over the ministry I work in, among many other ministries). The focus was the Muslim world. It was very emotional and I cried despite that being against the cultural norms here. 

Because really, it is so sad to see the amount of fear and turmoil around and within the Muslim religion. 

I have great respect for most Muslims. They put a high value on family and caring for those around them, I find that to be beautiful. Recently I offended quite a few people because I was very angry about  someone speaking ill of Muslims as a whole, so much so that I yelled and stormed out of the room during a dinner with family and friends. I know it wasn't the most mature way to respond to different opinions, but I still stand by the motivation and opinion that I held then. We cannot hate all Muslims because of ISIS. We cannot hate all Christians because of the Crusades. We cannot hate all Catholics because of some perverted priests. 

It goes beyond that though. It's learning not to hate, but also learning how to love. How many Muslims in Florida right now are probably being socially and economically torturred because of what happened at a gay club? How many of them are living in fear and loneliness for something they did not do and probably do not support? It's awful. Muslims are going through serious persecution right now, and they need love and support. 

I am in no way defending the actions of these extremists. I'm just saying that we cannot discriminate against an entire people group out of ignorance or fear. 

Someone at this meeting today said, "We don't believe in Allah, because we praise God". I love the person that said this, I mean nothing against them, but that really is a ridiculous statement. "Allah" is God in Arabic. Many early Christians in certain parts of the world would have praised Allah the father of Jesus, who sent his son for us. Allah/God is in many ways the connections between Christians, Muslims, and Jews; it's the beautiful idea of a Being that created the world and cares for his people. 

I keep thinking of that verse that says perfect love casts out fear. 

To my my friends that are Christians and/or westerners, I pray that you find a love so strong that it removes the fear of the other and instead brings you a desire to care for those you don't understand. 

To my Muslim friends, I pray that in your faith you are not led by fear but instead led by love for your community and the ones around you. I pray that Allah, God, the Universe- whatever we call it... Will bring you peace and hope as you face persecution in whatever country you are in. 

I don't know what to title this.

Tonight I listened as the woman next door to me was beat by her husband. I was having dinner at a friend's house. She translated what was going on as we heard every word and every hit through the thin walls. She has been here much longer than I have and explained that if we stepped out to intervene we would be killed. Not only that, but the added tension from us getting involved would have meant the wife would definitely be killed as well. So we sat there. 

I heard from one of my podcasts today that there was another shooting. I looked up the story and was heartbroken to realize the number of deaths and the fact that it was targeting the LGBTQ community. So many beautiful lives were ended out of hatred and fear. 

Meanwhile, I'm living a few miles from an old school that was turned into torture chambers during a mass genocide only 30 years ago (S-21). 

I'm angry. I don't get angry often, but tonight I am. It's not even about me. It's the awful reality that there is so much evil in the world. It doesn't matter what year it is or where you live, humans are destroying each other. There is a sickness here that is exposed when we live out of fear and pride. None of us is immune to it. At one point, each of these people were innocent, helpless babies. More than likely they have each felt love and compassion at some time, but through circumstances and decisions they have become this. It makes you wonder what kind of world we are living in... And whether or not it's worth it. 

I'm sorry to be so dark. I put a high value on authenticity, and in this moment this is where I am at. In the back of my mind I know there is hope ahead, but for now I will grieve. 

I Need Help

I've always been relatively self-sufficient. In school, I was the one helping someone else with their homework. In friendships, I prefer to be the one comforting rather needing comfort. With money, I've been the lender rather than the borrower. I frequently tell my family and friends that I am "a strong, independent black woman". 

I'm not bragging... I'm confessing. 

There is something beautiful about needing help. Humans are made to rely on each other. The accomplishment of one is pathetic compared to the accomplishments of a team. Even relationally, our minds deteriorate very quickly when human interaction is taken away from us. I believe that we were created by a Being, and throughout history that Being has made evident how necessary and holy it is to need. 

But despite knowing all of that, I hate to need. Being in Cambodia has forced me to come face to face with my inability to go it alone. Here, I can't get up and go out for the day on my own. If I want to go somewhere I either find someone else who is going there or pray that I come across a Moto driver who knows the place I'm talking about. I can't cook for myself because I don't know what the fruits and vegetables here are or how to use them. I can't even have a conversation with most people unless someone else is there to translate. 

Maybe I don't think I deserve to be helped. 

Maybe I'm too prideful to appear week. 

Maybe I'm afraid I'll be abandoned or rejected if I rely on someone else.

Maybe it's all of the above. In all honesty, I'm not sure. 

My new friends here are so quick to give me a helping hand. Even if I don't ask, they go out of their way to make sure I am cared for and not left in the dark. I'm trying to learn to take that help graciously, and in that I truly think I am becoming better. It's a process, and most days I'm not there yet. Still, day by day I am learning to need others and beginning to realize that my strongest moments are the ones in which I ask for help. 

Comparison

I had a pretty difficult childhood. I was forced into situations that were abnormal for a young girl. Im not complaining, these things made me into who I need to be. 

Still, I remember being frustrated at my friends feeling the need to qualify their pain in front of me. It would be something along the lines of "I'm so stressed with all this responsibility! But it's nothing compared to what you've been through..." Or even worse, they would refuse to tell me about their struggles because they felt they were petty. I hated the idea that my story made them feel their story was less important. 

But despite all that, I did the same thing. If I spoke about my hurt it was always with the caveat that other people in third world countries had it worse. I'd tell people that honestly my life has been a cakewalk because I've never been trafficked, beat, or starved. 

On rare occasions, this thinking can be helpful. When life is so unbearable that you can't take another day, there is comfort in knowing that someone else went through worse and survived. It's a good tool when you've hit rock bottom, but I think it's harmful if used for the long-term. If we always compare our pain to someone else's then we take away what our pain has to teach us. Rather than blowing off our struggles, we should be digging into them; we should find out how we can learn for next time and which parts of us need to be made stronger. 

When a 16 year old breaks up with her significant other, she is experiencing the deepest pain she has  ever known. If we tell her to suck it up and that its normal, she will generally go from one relationship to the next, allowing the pain to increase with each partner. Brought to the extreme, for many this leads to abusive relationships that are "normal" in the mind of the abused. What if instead we addressed this teenager's struggle for what it is? We can tell her that we are sorry she hurts and that we can't take the pain away, but that through this she can learn about vulnerability, trust, and healthy boundaries. Rather than comparing her hurt to the rest of the world, she can allow it to make her a stronger, happier person. 

Again, I'm not trying to negate the struggles of the third world. My heart breaks for the malnourished child, the wounded soldier, and the trafficked woman. I'm just saying that we all know pain on whatever scale our life has handed us. We also all know great joy and hope. Let's stop comparing our stories and instead make better ones. 

But have you asked Jesus into your heart?

This past week during a house-visit in the community I came across a woman who had it pointed out to her that she had not yet "asked Jesus into her heart". She was terrified because she was told that due to her not having done this, her name was not yet in the book of heaven. This woman had become a Christ follower two years ago, she changed her whole life and consistently worked to deepen her faith. Now, her entire spiritual journey was brought into question because she didn't say a phrase that she had never even been taught. I admired her drive to know God, but was saddened by how much one little phrase could mess with her faith. 

The phrase "ask Jesus into your heart" is not in the bible. Don't believe me? I'll pay you $100 if you can find it. The bible does in one place have slightly similar wording, but not in this context and definitely not in relation to salvation. The idea of a god who decides your fate based on one phrase is honestly abhorrent to me. Imagine a god so petty that he will only let you into the club when you repeat his little mantra; like a 7 year old that won't give her brother candy until he repeats back, "you are the best sister in the whole world". It's a funny image when it's a 7 year old child, a terrifying image when it's the all-powerful maker of the universe. 

Now, please don't take this as me beating my chest against people who use this Sinner's Prayer. I led my fair share of people in this prayer back in the day. Also, if I'm being honest, I do find the idea to be beautiful. This concept that your heart can become one with the divine. Imagine if our hearts were always after the heart of Jesus, wanting the best for the most trampled upon. While simultaneously knowing that God's heart deeply cares for our own hurts and hopes. 

The phrase itself is not what makes me upset. What does make me angry is all of the rules and regulations put on faith. 

Don't dance or you're not a Christian. 

You have to dance to show that you feel the spirit.  

Don't drink or do drugs because then God will be angry with you. 

You have to drink so you can minister to the secular world. 

Don't say these words. 

Say these words in this order and you're set for life. 

How can anyone keep up with it all? 

I used to have a faith of rules. Do this thing, don't do that one, know this theology and you're definitely in. It's exhausting. More than that, it's damaging. My faith has become bigger as my God has become less petty. Now I see the divine as truly loving and inclusive. I think it's beautiful that people have a desire to know more and gain wisdom, learning new phrases and explanations. But let's not let our knowledge or rules impede our Love. 

You are not bad.

"Bad Luka!", Jaydon yelled at his older brother. I don't even remember what the altercation was, Luka had hurt his younger brother or maybe taken one of his toys, the type of thing that's a big deal for a child. Jaydon's response to being harmed was to tell his brother he was bad. The way their mom stepped in was beautiful, "No Jay, Luka is not bad. He did something he shouldn't have and needs to take responsibility for his actions." They went on to go through apologizing and forgiving with their mom's guidance. It was such a perfect display of loving parenting, I actually started to tear up.

It is so easy to say someone is bad when they do something we consider wrong. That man is bad because he isn't fair in business, that child is bad because they don't share, that girl is bad because she makes money in the sex industry, it goes on an on... We consider these people who we don't agree with to be bad people. The worst part of it all is, oftentimes they will believe it.

Once someone is trapped in shame, they won't fight to change. Shame says I am bad, guilt says I did something bad. While guilt is healthy from time to time, I don't think there is ever an appropriate time for shame. Shame steals our value from us, it tells us we are bad, worthless beings who can never be more than what we are. If I am intrinsically bad or broken, why should I fight for wholeness?

This is, in my opinion, the biggest problem in Cambodia. Yes, there is poverty, trafficking, corruption, all of those things... but I believe that the worst of Cambodia's problems stem from shame. The belief here is that any difficulty you go through is your fault, because you were bad in a past life. It leaves people believing they deserve abuse and poverty. It's the reason someone will be sold into slavery by a family member and not put up a fight, because they believe this is what they deserve for who they are.

Then enters Christianity, this idea of a God who loves a person on an individual level. A God who thinks you are worth creating by hand, each little freckle. This God finds value in you, believing that  you deserve to live life to the fullest in whatever situation you have been given. There is a power within you that is so bright and beautiful that the only way to fully express it is to love others. This idea is so radical that a lot of  people won't believe it, but the ones who do are forever changed.

I'm not saying that converting someone to Christianity will immediately fix all of their problems. Steps still need to be taken toward freeing people. Brothels need to be raided, women need to be trained in a trade, family's need loans to pull themselves out of debt. But far too often the sex-slave whose brothel is raided will go back into the sex-industry because of shame, because she doesn't feel she deserves to do anything else with her life. This is where some Good News is so important.

You are valuable.
You are worth loving.
You are not bad.

And so we know and rely on the love God has for us. 

God is love. Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in them. 

1 John 4:16

What we leave behind.

"There are far, far better things ahead than any we leave behind."
-C.S. Lewis

I'm a huge fan of Clive's. I always appreciated that quote from him. When life was tough, it was statements like this that made me hopeful there was something to go on for. Quotes like this allow us to believe that the suffering in our past doesn't have to define us because it propels us to our future, a constant upward curve. There was a time when I needed these beliefs to get through the day.

I still love C.S., but I'm going to disagree with him this time.

Our painful past does propel us toward our hopeful future, but this isn't a constant pattern. Sometimes you stand on a beautiful mountaintop, and that leads you into the terror of falling down a cliff. Sometimes you go through abuse and heartache, but find that it opens you up to more love than you could have experienced ever before. We aren't on an upward curve, we are in an abstract art piece with vibrant colors and shades of gray- a swirling, non-sensical exhibit.

I used to have very little anger toward anyone, but unbeknownst to me I was making others feel like they didn't belong or weren't valuable.
Now I am more inclusive and caring than I've ever been toward the oppressed and abused, but I battle with anger toward the affluent and judgmental every day.
Which is better?
Neither, both were necessary and both are still a part of me from time to time. I don't have to tear down who I was to validate who I am. All I can do is constantly move in the ways I am led, fight for forward motion, and nurse my wounds when I fall backwards.

Over the past year I have met some incredible people who have slowly helped me reshape how I view and interact with the world. I have found a community in places I never would have expected, with more wonderfully complex people than I thought I'd ever know. The thing that has stuck out to me in these communities more than anything else is the idea that we don't have to tear down one thing to build another. Red doesn't have to be bad for blue to be good, they can both be beautiful.

In a few minutes I will board a plane that will cross the ocean and take me to my new home for now, Cambodia. It would be easy for me to tell myself that what I'm going to is better than what I'm leaving. But what I'm leaving is some pretty amazing people. I'm saying goodbye to friends that are okay with my dark spaces, and a family that is more supportive and loving than any I've ever seen.  I'm saying hello to a long-held dream finally being fulfilled. I wouldn't give up either experience for the world.

What we leave behind is a beautiful mess, what we see ahead is a beautiful mess. Each season is full of tears, goodbyes, and scars. It is all worth it for the joy and love found in the madness.

Dealing With Pain

One of my biggest struggles over the past few years has been pain in the world. When you're exposed to massive natural disasters, enslaved children, corrupt government, and extreme poverty, you begin to feel pretty sick inside. You begin to realize how dark life is. Maybe you even go so far as to wonder how a loving God would allow all of this.

I don't know why God allows some things and not others. I don't know why some people are overcome by addiction and others carry on. I don't know why some children are sold and others are cared for. I don't know why some people are born into the third-world and others into the first-world. On this side of heaven, I will probably never have answers to these questions.

But here is what I do know, I know that each of us has an opportunity to act on the injustice we see. Especially if you are affluent enough to have the means to read a blog in the first place, you have more power than you will ever know; You have the power to buy fair-trade, to tell people of injustice, to fund worthy causes, to spend time volunteering for others.

This is the beauty of it all. When we are overwhelmed by the pain in this world, we can instead choose to be overwhelmed by the opportunities for good everywhere we go. Let's get excited, because all around us there are people who are hungry, naked, sick, and imprisoned... we have been given the beautiful opportunity of caring for those people.

For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.’

 “Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’

“The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’

But why?

When I tell people that I am moving to Cambodia, one of the first questions is always "why?". It's incredible how a one word question can have so many different explanations.

The thing I am going to do is show justice where I can. I will be working in villages with people who haven't been dealt the best hand in life, lending them my hands where I can.

The reason I'm going is because this is all I have ever wanted to do. At the ripe age of 7 I explained to my family that I was going to be a "missionary". I actually told them I was going to have a "business where I helped people for Jesus", I didn't realize at the time that there was already a title for that job. The ways I have wanted to do this have changed through the years, at one time I thought I would be a teacher in Africa, then a Doctor in Cambodia, then a relief worker throughout the world. I may still do all those things, I'm starting here though.

But there is still more to the "why" question. Why now at 21 years old? Why Cambodia? Why this work in particular? This is where the story gets more details.

When I was 17 I went to the beautiful Kingdom of Cambodia with an organization called Steps Of Justice (SOJ). I saw injustice in the world in a way I never had. I saw what a country looks like when it is recovering from genocide, I saw child sex slavery and corrupt government. More than that, I saw a people who are so loving and open to what life may offer them. People who want to care, who want to share what they have and work toward something more.

I came back from Cambodia shattered. For the first time in my life, I felt homesickness, I learned that you can actually miss a place. I went a couple times more on short trips, trying to get a fix of what I needed without truly leaving everything happening back home.

Then I went on with my life.

During all of this time I was going through a restructuring of my faith and beliefs. Figuring out where I really stood, letting go of some long-held ideas and finding new places to put my trust. I was sorting out things with the God I've grown up with, some of them I am still trying to work through.

Last summer (2015) I went to Cambodia again. And while I was there an event with a couple friends exposed some things I needed to let go of. I realized that I was taking on caring for my family when I didn't need to anymore. I was holding on to the thought of being with them and not willing to trust that they could be taken care of by God and each other. I selfishly believed that my world would implode if I left it. I needed to cut the cord, I had to take a leap of faith and lovingly walk away.

Of course I, in my infinite knowledge, assumed that moving on meant moving to an apartment down the street from my family and getting a new job.

I had it all planned out, I would move into my own place for a year or so, maybe go back to school or try another career out. In a few years when I was more established and had a good savings I would go move to Cambodia for a year, once I had already gotten used to being away from home.

One morning I was in a prayerful meditation. While in that state, the guide said to envision someone I was having a difficult time with right next to me, to picture them along side me in a peaceful and caring state. As crazy as it sounds, I saw God in that moment. Not a face or a person, but a collection of colors, images, and feelings that I have no other word for. The world melted away and somehow the future was a memory, the past was colors, and the entire world was feelings. It was the most bizarre spiritual encounter I have ever experienced, I still don't know how to fully explain all that happened. Afterwards, I felt the purest peace, and for some reason Cambodia had been brought back to the forefront of my mind; I couldn't shake the thought that I needed to go back. I decided that the next time I went (I assumed in a year or two) I would stay for a while.

I took a day to recover from all of this, then, the next morning I get an email from my dear friend Phil at SOJ. Phil was asking if I could co-lead a trip to Cambodia this year. I remember sitting on my bed after receiving this email thinking about the coincidence of it all. How strange that an experience would lead me to decide I was moving to Cambodia the next time I went, and the very next day I am asked to come back this year? I decided this was too much to deal with in that moment, to shake it off and check my work Skypes/emails. The very first Skype I had was from a very close family friend and coworker saying that he felt he needed to tell me to go back to Cambodia soon, that in this phase of life I that should be my next season.

Keep in mind that all of these events happened within a span of less than 72 hours, when I had not thought deeply about Cambodia for months. Even then, I had only thought about it in the sense of a someday. I'm not usually one to think of every coincidence as a spiritual incident, I actually tend to lean more towards the world acting more or less on it's own and us deciding how to respond on our own whims. But it was undeniable that something was going on here. Even if it was only a coincidence, I knew that I could never live with myself if I didn't act on it.

So I responded, I said I'd love to help and I just may stay. I decided that I needed to take the first step toward the life I wanted. I started to tell my family and friends that this was the plan. And now I have been spending the last few months making arrangements to leave.

Now here I am. In a matter of weeks I am moving a world away to step into a place of simultaneous pain and joy.

Why?

Because there is more to this earth than we can see in the first-world.
Because there is more comfort in crazy leaps than monotonous days.
Because there is sometimes more love in leaving than staying.
Because there is more life in stepping outside of yourself than being comfortable.
This is my why.

You should start a blog.

I've never been one for posting my life to the world. I get on Facebook every month or two, and I still don't understand Instagram or Twitter. The only blog posts I have ever written are in a private page and are more diary entries than anything else.

But recently a new friend of mine said that I should write about my journey to Cambodia. She said that other people would be inspired by the story and maybe learn from it if they decided to make the same move. More than that, she thought it would be good to document it for myself. I decided she was right.

Years from now I will look back at how naive and excited I was. In the meantime, you can all ride along through theses posts.

It will be quite an adventure. :)