Epilogue

I am back in the States now. Have been for just a little over a week, wondering if my few months in Bangkok have left any impression more permanent than the fading flip-flop tan lines on the tops of my feet. The hope is always to have been changed, to have grown in that capacity of living we call theology. God knowing. Not merely to be a self-subsisting top spinning on its own axis of knowing and conceiving, but to be taken more and more up into that union where we are Christians before we are personalities. It is the progress of subtraction; the desperate wanting to be a less-ness in the largeness of Christ. What follows are the few conclusions I have retained with any clarity, both as relating to this messy pursuit of Christ and a few more practical thoughts.

Gospel to the Poor

Our brief mission in Bangkok was intended to be framed by an identification with poverty in the context of the gospel. Chris Heuertz, more or less co-founder of Word Made Flesh (WMF), says that we have for too long over-spiritualized "the poor" in Scripture. There is a knee jerk reaction to that statement, and I had it. That reaction would be, if you do not read "the poor" spiritually, we must scrap the gospel as we know it and a good deal of us would be damned. I do not think this is what he's after. What I think Heuertz means is that, particularly in America, we use the reality of spiritual poverty to defend our apathy toward the poor in our own midst. It's a little like casting out demons in the name of Satan and the Church cannot stand in that contradiction. Here even I defer to the Papists, who say, "It is a fatal error to separate these two--[daily bread and evangelization]--and even worse to oppose the one to the other." The truth is more encompassing: the gospel in which we believe wraps itself in poverty.

I have a very un-academic approach to examining this gospel to the poor. In my limited view of history, and of Scripture, I see two paths. One is toward unilateral liberation theology which has all the gloss of perfect Christian charity, but which I feel is an angel of light preaching a different gospel. The good news is not that the hungry are fed and the prisoners freed. I believe now that these outpourings of God's grace are indeed a dimension of the gospel, but they do not fully describe the fruition of redemption and peace with God.

The second path I see is the gospel of hope in eternity. This path often reminds me of the spiritual songs of American slaves. In their poverty and oppression, what I think many American slaves understood was the greater scope, the eternal grace, their ultimate home. It is not that we do not see people healed and the oppressed delivered in this life. We see this in manifold ways and means. We are not left with nothing to do but live in an evil world until we die and go to heaven. Scripture refutes this directly. It is merely a clarification of scope. Redemption and peace with God concerns a scope of nothing less than the fullness of eternity. Time stands within that fullness and, as such, we will see people healed and delivered through the ministry of the church, which has in its sights the eternal, unshakable kingdom.

What we can hope to learn of God's gospel of redemption is still to be found among those same poor, who we always have among us. Christ came in poverty, died in poverty. He willed Himself to be revealed in shame and humiliation. There is no reason to leave this gospel of the Cross and turn toward the "weak and beggarly" elements of our fictitious human wealth. There is no Christ there.

The question I often posed to myself during the last four months, and still do today, is "Did you commune with the poor; did you meet Christ there?" And I cannot answer myself satisfactorily. I simply do not know. I sat with the poor, but perhaps too distantly. I spoke to them, but often while clinging to selfish discontent. "Communion," then, seems a stretch. But where we are weak, there is God strong. And I have to believe that sharing twice-a-week awkward silences with those meek souls on Sukhumvit Rd. were a grace to me, a grace to them. I have to believe that the weakness of those moments will preach strength to my soul for the ages to come, according to God's will.

Meeting People is Easy

WMF's vision is primarily relational and a lot of our ministry consisted of the simplicity of presence and the simple beauty of trust that came from communication over time. As I struggled through my limited Thai with those I now know on the streets of Bangkok, I wondered that I had not tried to know the poor that have been around me my whole life. I can attest that our efforts bore, if nothing else, the fruit of trust. Though the vast majority of our spoken words were lost in translation, over time many folks who formerly received us with cautious eyes greeted us with eager smiles. It is not that a shared first language necessarily makes knowing and loving easier, but knowing I can meet folks on a dark thoroughfare in Bangkok armed with nothing more than a month's worth of Thai makes me suspect that the only thing between me and the poor in America is my faithlessness. It makes me a little bolder.

Visit Old People

I picked this up from our visit to the facilities operated by the Missionaries of Charity in Kolkata, India. The two houses we worked in were mostly for the elderly. Their loneliness and alienation from what was going on outside their walled-off home was striking. Bethany and I talked about the universality of this situation and each vowed to visit the elderly wherever we lived.

Slavery is Real, Albeit Grey

I suppose one could dismiss the truth of modern slavery outright, but I've yet to meet someone who doesn't accept the idea. The problem is actually when one confronts this ugly reality with an elementary textbook idea of slavery.

There are people, especially women, who today match our romantic idea of a slave: brought to a foreign country against their will and held in captivity to do things against their will. Others know the nature of the work they will do and, under the duress of poverty, make the choice to sell themselves for money only to be held in a deceitful system of debt repayment that they cannot possibly escape, enduring threats of violence to their family and themselves should they renege on their "deal." The common element is that both of these people are treated as property and none of them can leave when they want. That satisfies my definition of a slave. What we as Christians need to be careful of is not to be scrupulous about the circumstances of one's slavery and to confront this evil with the gospel and with the same fervor as our abolitionist forebears.

Conversion is the Miracle

There is little I can think to say about this except to reaffirm orthodoxy. In Thailand, I was witness to the conversion of two souls. In a world fascinated with the exaggerated and lusting after the ecstatic, I was amazed that this most supreme miracle, of God's enemies becoming children, comes so quietly. And I tried not to miss it.

The Needs

Many people want to know what they can do. Having done so little in Bangkok, basing so much of our work around deliberately avoiding the practice of "doing" at the expense of "being," it is hard to come up with a very convincing "to do" list, but I do have a couple things to recommend.

Pray. This is not preached enough. We, as Christians, on the whole, do not believe in the power of prayer. I do not think our negligience of it is any sort of harmless laziness, but a real and terrifying faithlessness. I often justify this frailty in myself by using reason. And it is true that prayer is most unreasonable, which is why it ought to be practiced all the more with energetic faith. Our team talked a lot about how all great revivals were preceded by committed prayer. Do not neglect this grace. Pray for the coming of God's kingdom and simply trust.

$100. It costs roughly $100 to send a kid to school in Bangkok for one year. Many of the begging families we know are Cambodian and, thankfully, their children are legally entitled to attend public school in spite of their family's illegal status. There is even a small organization in Bangkok, with whom WMF has recently partnered, that tries to steer disadvantaged children towards enrolling in school. This costs $100. If you have $100 or know someone who does, you could ensure a child goes to school for that year. It's rare that you can be promised this level of causality, but I can assure you it's that direct. Contact me if this interests you.

People need to know about the degree to which the sex industry dominates tourism to Bangkok, Pattaya, Phuket, and even Chiang Mai, not to mention other destinations in Thailand. The response to this is up to you, but being informed and informing are the first step to seeing an end to the selling of human life in Thailand. If you know someone who's going on a business trip or vacation to Thailand, let them be warned. As I've been telling friends: just have your business retreat at Dave & Busters.

Thanks

There is more to be said about more than I have mentioned. A good face-to-face can probably sort out any questions you have. For any of you that have been supporting me through prayer, as well as anybody who contributed financially, I want to thank you. Your support has produced fruit. Prior to our team arriving in Bangkok, many of the dimensions of WMF's ministry were as yet unrealized. As a team, along with the Hupes, we helped shape the work for teams who will go in the future. You have, through your support, brought the gospel to the poor. Thanks be to God for you and for your help.

Soli Deo Gloria,

Richie

Week 16 - Fin

Fin, because I have four days left which will consist of a debriefing tomorrow morning during devotions and a community dinner on Tuesday night. On Thursday, our time with Word Made Flesh is officially complete. I plan to take another week and a half to explore Laos and North Thailand before returning home to Dallas.

This last week, we had our final night of outreach on Monday. Meant to be an all-night affair, we actually arrived around 10:30 and left around 3:00 am. Our Thai partner accompanied Emily and me on this night, thus adding a new dimension to our conversation with B__. B__ wept over her situation, retelling the story of how her husband abandoned her and her three children to live in the park and beg on the street. This I knew. B__ also told us she had been a Christian for twenty years. This I did not know. It changed things for me, her changing before my sight from neighbor to sister. The veracity of her profession aside, I was very troubled to see my sister in such a vulnerable situation. We are all, especially Tim and Amy, trying to meet her needs, but in the meantime, she still has no safe place to sleep and men still offer to purchase her children for God knows what purpose.

When we finally caught up with our friends at Nana, we were walking into a celebration. These children, these teenagers we know who spend the night begging are in vulnerable situations, but they are still teenage girls who delight in talking and laughing with friends. So with a lot of talking and laughing, hugs and tears, our group said goodbye to them. We take heart in knowing that Tim and Amy will continue to be that strong Christian presence and loving relationship in their lives and some of us take greater heart in the possibility that we will return, but for now we have only the complex vacancy one feels in their guts when parting for an indefinite time. I will miss them all.

Because of all that, it was with heavy hearts that we took our servant team retreat to the island of Samed in the Thailand gulf. It felt odd to move from our place in the street to a warm place in the sand, almost improper, but we did not spend three days in pensive thought. We had a good time reading on the beach and snorkeling. I was able to fit in a run since I'm hoping to do a roadrace early tomorrow morning here in Bangkok.

I do plan a more comprehensive wrap-up in the next couple of weeks, something more appropriate to cap off four months, but I do not have the luxury of time at the moment. Tonight, we will go, with no other purpose in mind than visiting, the third red light district in Bangkok after Nana and Soi Cowboy: Phat Phong. Be in prayer as we encounter more of the evil, but always be confident that God is conquering it through the people of Christ, who in all things is preeminent.

Week 15 - Phayao

Happy Advent.

Last week started as usual, with outreach on Monday night. We missed several of our friends and I wondered if it didn't have something to do with the recent police "cleanups" of the area.

We did see one child sleeping on the bridge with a puppy, a cup, and no one else around. Emily and I sat on the sidewalk nearby watching the girl for a while. As we did, we were approached by an Irish man who said he'd seen us around. We get these occasionally: tourists or Western ex-pats who want to stop and say they appreciate what we're doing. I never know what to do with the compliment, so I usually smile and nod. But this guy had a different angle.

He wanted to know if we could help him with something, but we had to pledge confidentiality. I have fewer scruples than Emily, so I eagerly accepted his terms, knowing that I would keep confidential only whatever I felt like keeping confidential. Emily was a little more forthright about our willingness to report the reportable. It didn't seem to matter to the guy, as he went on.

He has a Thai girlfriend that he met at the mall, not on the street, he was eager to clarify. She had a history of prostitution, which she had left when she met him, but now she's pregnant. He suspects she's returned to her old life and wonders if we would be able to identify her as someone we see on Sukhumvit if we were introduced. Basically, he wanted to use us, a Christian NGO, as his personal private detective. I explained that that's not really what we do, but that we could refer him to someone who could help his very vulnerable girlfriend. He shook his head vigorously. "These people," he lectured, "are very smart." By which he meant, "I'm the victim of a conspiratorial scam." Not only did he believe that he'd been duped into a relationship--a likely possibility and not a unique story--but he believed she intended to hire someone to kill him. After we reiterated that we could not help him, he said goodnight and went on his merry, paranoid way.

Nearly the entire rest of the week was spent in Phayao with Phillip and Constance, some American friends of Tim and Amy's. We took an overnight bus there to celebrate Thanksgiving with them, Thai style: fish, curry, thom yum, though Bethany did manage to make a bowl of mashed potatoes. Phillip and Constance work for the Education for Life Foundation and had gotten a large donation of bikes. They loaned us a few and we got to bike around Phayao, which borders a lake. Getting away from the city was absolutely therapeutic.

Now I'm feeling a bit dissipated--thank you, Rachel. After an impromptu vacation in Phayao, we're looking forward to our planned servant team retreat this week on the beach in Kosamet. Before then, we do have outreach tonight. This will be our final outreach and it's going to be an all-nighter. We had planned this for a couple months earlier, but never executed the idea. It should be very illuminating, seeing when our friends are able to go home and seeing how many of them may have control factors, people who are managing their begging.

Prayer requests:

--That I'd stay awake tonight.

Week 14 - Last "Normal" One

As I walked near the King's palace and throne hall yesterday, I could see workers putting up lights around what equates to several city blocks' worth of fencing to prepare for the King's 82nd birthday on Dec 5th. It's not Christmas, but it does give the sense of a new season, which is appropriate given that the temperature sank drastically over the last half a week. I nearly didn't use my fan at all last night until I heard the high-pitched flapping of a mosquito above my ear.

Yesterday, we had our last day out at Klong Toei. I thought we would be teaching, but activities were limited to a two hour party. There was a lot of dancing and, strangely, a lot of throwing baby powder in our own faces and at each other. Not all of the kids were there, but most of the familiar faces. I think sometimes one underestimates the depth of connection made with another person, particularly with adolescents who hide it better.

On Thursday, and to a lesser extent on Tuesday, we celebrated Emily's birthday, the third and last birthday of our group of five during these four months. The only thing lacking was the Thom Yum soup our neighbor, Bah Oot, prepared for our last two parties.

Monday and Wednesday outreach per usual. We are coming up against the reality that we will be leaving and that we'll have to tell this to some of the people we see twice a week on the street. I began this ordeal with B__ and it was more difficult than I thought. Difficult, because it seems to me she saw more of God in me than I saw in her, appreciative as she was of the meager relationship I'd formed with her. She said all of our group had Jay Dii, literally "good hearts." Great are God's works and unprofitable are His servants.

On Tuesday, Jeff and I joined with the MST project, which seeks to engage in conversation Western men visiting the popular sex tourist areas in Thailand. It wasn't nearly as confrontational as I imagined, but that made it all the more frustrating. The Devil often comes masquerading as foggy logic and cyclical debates. I can only pray God did something through all this, will continue to do this in my life and their lives.

This coming week, we will visit American friends for Thanksgiving in Phayao, with some opportunities for working with them and for hiking.

Prayer Requests:

--That the relationships that the five of us have formed with transfer as seemlessly as possibly to Tim and Amy and that these relationships would bear fruit for the Kindgom of God.

Week 13

A fair amount of my time here in Bangkok has been spent reading. As a whole, the five of us were required to bring along six books to read and discuss while here. I've spent a lot of the last week reading the remaining two: Sexually Exploited Children and Sex Slaves. As I found out four months ago in Dallas, these are awkward titles to have on your office desk if you aren't a social worker or something close.

Sex Slaves, at one point, refers to Bangkok as "the world's brothel." When people ask me what I think of Bangkok, I usually say something about the food, mostly because "the world's brothel" is often what first comes to mind. I recognize that this thought is unfair to Thai people in general and citizens of Bangkok in particular, but for half a week every week, it's what I see of the city.

Women are trafficked here from all over the continent, but Sex Slaves asserts that the majority are from Burma and North Thailand. These women arrive under varying levels of coercion, from outright, drugged kidnapping to a conscious choice, albeit made under the duress of poverty and a familial culture that emphasizes concrete, financial indebtedness to one's parents. These are the girls lining the street that I walk down three times a week at night.

In the daytime, Bangkok offers me the chance to tour scores of intricately constructed wats--temples--all dedicated to a seemingly innocuous, peaceful dogma that fatalistically assigns a prostitute her lot in life with no hope to save.

What do I think of Bangkok? The food is excellent.

As usual this week, we had outreach on Monday and Wednesday. This week we prepared food packets beforehand--two chicken sticks, an orange, and bread. Nearly all the faces this past week were familiar, so our awkward Thai conversations were longer and more awkward, with lots of pauses, but with much grace. When someone we know allows us to sit with them, they are always happy to forgive our linguistic shortcomings.

The police were out in force both nights, apparently running off child beggars after "confiscting" their earnings and taking their shoe-shining kits. This meant that many of our friends were gone or hiding by the time we made it to Nana.

This week, Jeff and I participated in our first, and unfortunately second-to-last, week of partner ship with the MST--Men and the Sex Trade--project. The project seeks to humanize the men who visit Nana plaza and Soi Cowboy as broken sinners in need of grace as opposed to much more one-dimensional labels like "pervert."

Next week, we will actually approach men for discussion. This last week, we joined MST on a very eye-opening prayer walk through Nana plaza. I had seen the entrance to the plaza every week during outreach, but was unaware of the structure within. I found it disturbingly procedural. I needn't go into details here--you can always ask me--but the place is every bit as orderly as I imagine any Old Testament cult's fertility temples would be. The men there are not just out-of-control tourists on a bender, they are pious adherents of a religion.

At home, I've taken up yoga with Bethany leading the way. It was my idea, which should stricke anyone who knows me as odd. Thankfully, Bethany never lets me escape my committment. I'm getting sore in places I didn't know existed.

As I post this, there's only one week of English teaching left at Klong Thoei. I think I'll miss those kids, even the really loud ones.

Week 12 - The One About the Massage

Fact: the average meal here is around 90 cents, the sort of meal you would easily pay $9.00 for at Royal Thai on Greenville.

Outreach twice again this week. We spent a little time visiting with people we already knew, handing out Thai workbooks and pencils to the little ones. I am lost in these relationships, those which can seemingly go no further than "How are you." If they happen to say they are not well, and I ask why, I will not understand what they say after that. At times like these, I have to believe the eternal Logos is also preached in mystery, apart from the spoken gospel, that Christ in me is enough and that the Spirit will shout grace and mercy in a way that surpasses me.

An aside on the subject of mystery: does anyone think there's a link between Eastern Orthodox and the Southern USA pentecostal tradition? I've been obsessed with this question lately.

We discussed Nouwen's Compassion on Thursday. Nouwen writes in riddles, but there were a couple of edifying concepts in the essay. Mainly, that of presence. Nouwen aims in the beginning to dismiss the idea of compassion as a condescending pity, a common misconception. Compassion, for Nouwen, and I think accurately, is sharing the suffering of your neighbor. The practical manifestation of this becomes a question with in impossible number of answers, but Nouwen happens to mention sharing awkwardness as one of them. Sitting with a beggar who is likely Cambodian and knows little Thai, when you yourself already know little Thai, is assuredly one of the most awkward things I have done. Nouwen's exhortation is not to run from that awkwardness, not to exist in frantic impatience that desires only to run away from the moment, but to share the awkwardness with them in your brief relationship. It sounds goofy, but it rings more true than the noble fantasies of "compassion" in my head.

On Tuesday, our Thai friend Boo came over and cooked for us. Boo keeps outdoing herself in the cooking department. This time it was a yellow curry over noodles and sauteed garlic. I aim to try and recreate her achievements when I return home, but I doubt they will come close.

This week, I began my WMF project. My goal is to locate squatter communities around Bangkok. This mostly entails walking a lot. On Monday, it entailed some dude stalking me for a few blocks with a big stick. I wouldn't have minded so much if he'd actually swung the big stick or done anything for that matter, but whenever I turned on him, he just gave me a blank stare. He was either an imbecile or very high. Regardless, he left me a few blocks later.

The squatter communities are a mixture of depressingly inadequate and surprisingly tranquil. Grigg in his book Companion to the Poor distinguishes between several types of squatter communities. They are not all places of despair, although there are those. Some are highly organized, insular communities that care for their citizens. All of them exist on unclaimed property, often near a railroad track or canal. Some of them have been around for decades. I encounterd suspicious individuals, as mentioned above, but I also encountered the characteristic Thai generosity. As I walked through one community, an older gentleman came out to stop me from continuing, saying, in English, "Um, that one, he bite," as he pointed to a dog directly in front of me.

I got my payoff massage for winning the "new experience/extrem food" contest of a couple months ago. It was a real swank place. They washed our feet to begin--Tim and Jeff came along--and gave me some very loose-fitting pajamas to change into. I think she gave me the foreigner, "I'm trying not to hurt you" version of the classic Thai massage. She could have twisted me a lot further than she did, but it was nice. There was pan flute music. And then they gave us tea.

Prayer Requests:

--That I would work on my project when I have free time. Time is getting short.

Week 11 - Staying Present

It must be close to winter, because Lotus--a local megastore--has dragged out their tocques and scarves. Soon Thais will be bundling up for chilly days topping out at 85 deg. Farenheit. I will still be sweating, but even I've noticed the difference. For the past couple of weeks, I have been sliding under the sheets somewhere mid-sleep. The mornings have been dry and cool, or what passes for cool in central Thailand.

As promised, the regular schedule resumed this week, which included our Monday and Wednesday night outreaches. Additionally, we had the opportunity to visit one family we've gotten to know at their home. I think this really shows where the Mission of WMF takes traction; seeing someone who happens to beg in the context of their living space humanizes them.

I wish I could write in full about something that happened this week, but it would be unwise and maybe unsafe to publish even a slight detail. Suffice it to say that to witness the Holy Spirit calling one to belief over time is a special kind of blessing, the radical nature of which one can miss if you aren't paying careful attention.

I am trying to do my work here without distraction. In Nouwen's Compassion, he exhorts the reader to exercise a holy patience that allows them to remain in the present, particularly as it relates to our relationships. A trite, but relevant example is that of listening to someone as opposed to waiting for your turn to speak. At the same time, I have a brain, and I would have to shut it down entirely to avoid knowing that I have a mere six weeks left. I also have practical matters that need to be planned in that time. Still, there is a great need for me to remain present, to be with people--my living community, those we meet on the street, the children we teach on Saturday--in the present tense. To do otherwise, is to dehumanize them to some degree.

Prayer Requests:

--As already stated, that I would be present. As with all inward movements toward God and neighbor, I cannot do this of my own volition, but only the Spirit can move me. Pray for this grace.