I recently went on a trip to Cambodia. I went with my church here in Korea. There was a total of 38 people: several students (elem, middle, high) and many, many adults. But only two Americans (myself and another woman I teach with). SUCH an adventure going on a missions trip with only being able to communicate with a majority of your team in very broken Korean/English. It was a missions trip within a missions trip.
There are many stories I could tell about this trip. Many stories I wish I tell and hopefully will someday. Though it was short, it was very impacting and ... life-perspective-giving. I saw a lot on this trip ... and not just through the lens of my own, American eyes, but through the lens of another culture as well (Korea). It was such a unique and ... challenging experience. This story stems out of one of these moments of looking through another lens ...
It was our third day in Cambodia. We had done two medical camps already and were heading to yet another when our missionary guide decided that we would make a quick stop. I had been advised before going on this trip NOT to go to a killing field should the opportunity arise (if you don't know any of the history of Cambodia and the Khmer Rouge Regime, read here: http://www.ppu.org.uk/genocide/g_cambodia.html) for many reasons, many of which being the spiritual dirtiness, so to say, of such places. Well, I had no idea where we were going at this point (again, the communication between me and my team consisted of mostly broken English/Korean - though we did have one Korean American with us who could translate, we still didn't always know what was happening). So our bus suddenly stops and we all get out. As SOON as I get out the air feels dead to me. All throughout that land there is a spirit/feeling of death and agony, but in this place, something was different - it was almost as if you could taste the death in the air. And then I found out where we were. We were at a memorial site for those killed during the Khmer Rouge Regime.
There wasn't much to see there honestly. But it wasn't what I was seeing - it was what I was feeling that made that place a significant part of my trip. To anyone who is spiritually aware and in tune with their soul AND spirit, you will know what I mean when I say I was ALERT. We walked towards this monument that as you got closer, you realized why it was there. It was tall and looked like just another monument, until you realized it was filled with human bones. THOUSANDS. Words are not enough to describe that sight. They don't even come close. As I looked upon the results of a vicious, evil and torturous genocide, I suddenly saw not just through my eyes but the eyes of the people I was with. As Americans, we've never really felt genocide ... we've never fully had a war on our own soil. But Korea. Koreans have seen a lot, and what I saw in the eyes of one of my team members said so much to me. She told me this was not just significant and heart wrenching for Cambodians, but how much it hurt to see this, knowing her brothers and sisters may just as well be the same in North Korea. My world suddenly shifted to see this sight through new eyes - through eyes of not only anguish, but understanding. I could say so much more than this, but then this blog would no longer be about joy. Joy is nothing near what I thought I would find in this place.
There was a wall erected on which the Cambodians had placed pictures of some of the victims. The Khmer Rouge made a habit of taking pictures of their victims; before and during torture. This wall showed the pictures of a miniscule amount of those whose lives were stolen. They were powerful. As I looked and saw with shock and great emotion the evil that lies within man, one picture caught my eye.
Do you see it? In all of these pictures - most of torture, angony and fear, there is a man who is smiling. SMILING! These are ALL images of people who are about to die, and most likely knew it too, and yet, there is a man literally smiling in the face of death. Suddenly, in this place that emotionally and spiritually stank of death, there was hope and joy. But how could this be? Did he not know? Did he not understand?
I would venture to say he did know and he did understand. It was in this smile that I learned something new about joy: joy does not necessarily stem from happiness ... but rather, from hope. What I saw in this man's face was a lack of fear ... it showed complete knowledge and understanding and rather than terror be on his face, there was joy. I believe it stemmed from a hope. A hope bigger than all of us. The Hope. Perhaps he understood that this life is not the end ... that this life is temporary and perhaps he possessed not simply happiness (as I would define "happy" as situational and circumstantial) but real, true, life-giving, life-overflowing, joy: joy that can not be stolen or effected by circumstance, but rather joy that defines circumstance. And this joy, I would say, comes from one place, and one place alone: through the power of a Spirit-filled, passionate life of purpose, founded and designed by Him. This is the Joy that I desire to possess.
"There is a joy which is not given to the ungodly, but to those who love Thee for Thine own sake, whose joy Thou Thyself art. And this is the happy life, to rejoice to Thee, of Thee, for Thee; this it is, and there is no other." ~Augustine
May my joy always be for Thou Thyself ... and may my joy ever define my life, never defined by my life.
