August 22, 2011

So this last month was filled with some serious stuff…like surgery. I was laying on a gurney outside of the operating room, wondering exactly what I was doing. I had injured my knee about 10 years ago, from which it healed itself quite well. Just before heading to Asia, I reinjured the knee—turned out to be a torn muscle, actually. A surgeon assured me that it would not mend itself this time and required a simple surgery. Remember this: when surgery is done on others it might be classified as simple—when it is performed on you, it is always major.

Anyway, I had been counting the spots on the ceiling tile outside the OR for about an hour when the anesthesiologist finally walked by. He had no way of knowing that I had actually been occupying my time by worrying about the dangers of anesthesia. Neither did he know how his conversation would calm my nerves. He said that he could either put me to sleep…or he could give me a shot that would paralyze me from the chest down. I would feel them tugging and cutting and stretching, but I would feel no pain. Strangely, the concept of being awake terrorized me more than the idea of never waking up! (For instance, I wondered, would they want me to assist in the surgery by handing them the necessary tools?) I showed him exactly which vein to put the needle in and assured him that I did not want to wake up until it was all over.

So, it all went well. The stitches come out in a few days and the rehab and recovery will take a month or so. I am only now learning that the surgeon may have downplayed the recovery process. In retrospect, I think that was extremely wise on his part. I probably would not have surrendered so easily to the anesthesia had I known what awaited me after the surgery.

A few weeks before the surgery, we visited Singapore to renew our visas and survey the place where we plan to establish our base of ministry. We discovered a great opportunity for sponsorship into the country (a major answer to prayer) that we are waiting on the Lord to finalize. We are so excited about getting to Singapore soon, as our temporary door of ministry in this country is quickly drawing to a close. Please pray for the Lord to work out the remaining details before our scheduled arrival in January.

One of those unfinished details concerns our financial support. Although the trip was a tremendous blessing, it also confirmed our suspicions. The cost of living is much greater than we estimated. Recently, the cost of living in Singapore has risen dramatically while the dollar has plummeted. Candid conversations with resident missionaries assured us that we are realistically at about 80% of our needed support, rather than the 95% we were calculating. Although that is a fairly major shortfall, we know that God will supply. Would you pray with us about this urgent need? If the Lord should lead you to partner with us now, we would be most blessed by your generosity and the Lord’s timing!

Dave and Diane

He was sitting at the table next to ours. While we waited for our lunch, he leaned over and warmly introduced himself. He is a bear of a man with an olive-colored complexion and a kind disposition. In retrospect, I imagine that he had been drawn to our accent. He is an English professor in a local college that trains teachers. He is my new friend—and a devout Muslim.

He was on a three week break from classes and insisted on being our local tour guide. Over the next weeks, he introduced us to the unique places of his country and provided an insider's glimpse into the Muslim community. We visited places that most tourists have never been. We were even the guests of honor at a Muslim wedding. (That is a story for another day.)

Along the way, we visited the birthplace of the local Sultan. We passed by His expansive palace and stood in the shadows of the Mosque where he prays. We walked reverently by the graves of his ancestors—simple plots outlined in stone, adorned with Arabic script. We had lunch in a local outdoor restaurant. The simple plate of chicken and rice was topped off with a delicious dessert called iced kakang.

Our friend loves to eat and insisted on treating us to the local cuisine. We tried steamboat. We gathered at a table with a pot of boiling, spicy broth in the middle. He selected several entrees from a menu of meat and oriental vegetables. Exotic dishes started filling up the table. Fish balls, fish glue, fish noodles (okay, basically all things fish) were thrown into the pot along with the veggies. A few eggs were cracked into the mixture, stirred once or twice, and lunch was on! It was really quite delicious.

After a trip to a local palace with a mysterious story (perhaps, more on that later), we found ourselves at a local Muslim eatery. Let's just say we felt more than conspicuous at the table. Diane was the only lady without a headscarf and we were the only foreigners in the packed place. Massive pans of fish and vegetables cooked in rich curries adorned the outdoor buffet. As our friend ate with his fingers, we worked on our fare with silverware, delivered by the waiter at our friend's request. We gained five pounds each. A few days later Diane gave him his first taste of homemade oatmeal raisin cookies. (He is a big fan.)

Over several days of food and fun, we had several serious conversations. We spoke about 9/11 and terrorism. We spoke about the image of America in the Muslim world. As he reminisced about the events of that fateful September day, he said he wept for those that were killed by the fanatics. Even now, ten years later, his voice cracked and a tear escaped his eye as he remembered. He said that he knew the world would never be the same.

I used every opportunity to ask about Islam, motivated by both curiosity and design. I figured if he was offered the opportunity to share about his religion, he would grant the same courtesy to me. I was right. Sitting in his car, the day before his classes resumed, I ventured out into treacherous waters. Instead of offense, I found an open heart and a receptive ear. Using personal testimony, I told my story—an American boy who found peace in Jesus Christ. There were no questions and few comments. He just listened while I spoke and Diane quietly prayed in the backseat.

Since then, we have met several times. For my birthday, he presented a collection of CD's of classic country music—said he thought I might be homesick for the sounds of home. He has suggested that he might arrange for me to speak to his students—so they can hear American English. As I was writing this letter, my cell phone vibrated with a message from my friend. He just wanted to know how things are going.

He's a Muslim—and he's my friend. He didn't support the terrorists and he doesn't hate Americans. He worships the religion that he was born into—the religion that his parents died under. He needs Jesus Christ. And I need the fullness of His Spirit and the power of His word—to penetrate the darkness and deliver my friend!

And you—you need to pray.

Well, the services in church last Sunday morning went well! I only regret that my attempts to get LK to church had failed. Immediately after our visit with the Taoist priest, I invited him to church. I even tried to sweeten the invitation by including lunch after the meetings. Unfortunately, he declined, informing me that his boys have Kung Fu lessons that occupy every Sunday morning. Undeterred, I did what any serious minister of the gospel would do—I went to the mall. Now, going to the mall on Sunday is not something that I wish to do. Beyond the obvious reasons, it is simply the single worst day of the week to go to the mall in Asia. On Sunday, people flock to the mall in droves. So, I found myself, in the middle of the afternoon, navigating the crowded corridors of the mall with LK and sons.

We settled upon a donut place in the food court that LK said had the best coffee in town. The lines were impressive—it took more than 20 minutes to get a cup of coffee, a glass of peach tea, and two vanilla smoothies for the boys. As chance would have it, a table opened up just as we claimed our drinks. Crowding around the small table in the crammed food court we began our conversation. Raising his voice to be heard above the roar, LK asked, "So, how did you get into church work?" That innocent question started us down a trail that traced back through time to a bloody cross and an empty grave.

I started with my father's conversion and how it impacted our entire family for Christ. Then, I shared my own testimony as I witnessed to my captive audience for more than an hour. Incidentally, I also witnessed to dozens of others that overheard our conversation because of the volume I was forced to use in the noisy place. It was a larger congregation than I had at church that morning. LK's agnosticism eventually raised its ugly head. Looking intently into my eyes, he said that he admired my faith and wished he could believe.

Immediately, the Spirit told me what to say. Looking intently at my friend, I replied: "LK, do you know why I believe? I believe in Jesus Christ because he arose from the dead." I pointed to his own prophecies that he would die and rise again. I retraced the miraculous nature of his life that culminated in an empty grave. I presented the martyr deaths of his own disciples as a compelling testimony to the reality of His resurrection. I offered the resurrection as a most reliable foundation for faith in Jesus Christ. Just to be certain that He understood my reasoning, I pressed on: "I believe that Jesus Christ is alive while Buddha, Mohammed, Confucius and all others are dead. Jesus is God—the others are not."

How my heart yearns to tell you that my friend fell to his knees, embracing Jesus Christ! But he did not. He did, however, promise to learn more about Christ and continue our conversation. I honestly do not know what will become of LK. Only God knows. I would like to think that I saw a little faith blossom in his heart. I do know this—I did my part in a mall on Sunday afternoon in SE Asia. I pointedly and forcefully presented the case for Jesus Christ. As I spoke, I felt the presence of the Holy Spirit...just as I had from the pulpit earlier that day. I am glad that God's Spirit goes with me...even if the destination is the mall.

So today, I had lunch with a priest. The fare was quite delicious really, even with the absence of meat. Our vegetarian entrees included vegetables in curry, silky tofu in vinegar sauce, and tomatoes and cabbage in a sweet and sour sauce. Eight of us found a place at the round table, with the dishes spinning in the center, served family style. LK, a kind and generous man that I am trying to win to Christ, was the host. His wife and their two sons were with us. A Christian lady from our church and Diane and I filled up the table. Oh, and let's not forget the Taoist priest.

The day started early with a call from LK "David...today is Buddha's birthday and the children are off of school. Would you like to join us to see some sights and meet a friend?" The answer had already been decided, as I had been asking the Lord for more opportunities to share the gospel with L.K. In the previous week, he had guided us to his farm in the mountains—a beautiful place about an hour from our home. My friend spent twenty years in the US and Canada. He is a highly intelligent man who claims to follow no religion, only the dictates of his conscience.

Soon, we found ourselves bouncing around in LK's old van, headed to the outskirts of town. We pulled up in front of a towering mountain that had a massive structure built into the mouth of a cave. The ornate tiled roof with the oriental façade quickly identified itself as a Buddhist temple. The friend that LK wanted us to meet was the resident Taoist priest. When I say resident, I mean that literally, as He lives in the cave with His wife and family. His great grandfather built the temple in the 1800's and it has been passed through the generations to him.

The priest was dressed in the plain gray embroidered frock and pants of the priesthood. The official black cap, with two long ribbons flowing down his back, adorned his grey-haired head. A few long scraggly hairs formed a goatee that dropped from his chin. He is a kind and gentle man, much like you would expect from a Taoist priest. If a life of service and compassion could get one to Heaven, he would certainly have a seat at the table. Unfortunately, we know that is not nearly enough.

Needless, to say, we received a personal guided tour of the temple. Leading us into the depths of the cave, we entered into a darkness that was more spiritual than physical. The strange and imposing idols revealed the true nature of their heritage—the spirits of fallen angels lay not so deeply concealed behind the paint and plaster. The lady from our church, rescued from Buddhism by the grace and love of Jesus Christ, shuddered at the sights of the idols and the scent of the burning incense.

The priest led us up numerous steps carved from the rock to a locked door piled high with boards and junk. Removing the obstacles, he led us up several more flights of steps until we surfaced at the top of the mountain. The view from the vista was gorgeous, were it not for the hideous "gods" that shared the space with us. All along the path, the priest had used a laser pointer to outline the various animals and manifestations of Buddha that revealed themselves in the crevices of the cave walls. His imagination was as clever as he was kind.

So after the "tour", we sat at the table in a Chinese restaurant, listening as LK and the priest discussed some pressing spiritual thoughts. A few minutes into the conversation, I asked someone to translate for me. (The priest speaks only in Cantonese.) I told him that I deeply appreciated his hospitality and I was impressed by his creativity in identifying images in the stalactites and stalagmites of the cave. I revealed that I was, however, concerned by one image that was missing. I looked intently into the priest's eyes and said, "I searched the walls of your cave diligently, but I did not see Jesus Christ. Is He not welcome in your cave?" The priest laughed gently and said that perhaps one could see what they wished to see in the walls. He said that He would search more thoroughly when he returned.

Digging deeper into the issue at hand, I asked him what he thought of Jesus Christ. (I watched the color drain from LK's face. He laughed a nervous little laugh and questioned if we were almost ready to go.) The priest declared that Jesus Christ was fine for the West but not for Asia. To that I countered that Christ was more Asian than Western. Sensing that the priest was struggling to stay above water, the Spirit led me to take him in over his head. I acknowledged that Christianity is indeed incompatible with Taoist and Buddhist belief. "After all, Jesus Christ claims an exclusive relationship with God—He is the only begotten of the creator and the only person ever sent to earth to speak for God, and the only source of truth." I was fearful that this would conclude my conversation with the priest.

To my surprise, the priest stated that He had a Bible back in the cave and had read some of its pages. Seeing an open door, I asked if I might come again and talk with him more about the Bible and Christ. He smiled from ear to ear, and scratching the wiry strands of beard on his chin, said he would be most pleased.

The trip back with LK was pensive. He broke the silence with the thought that either the priest would convert me or I would convert the priest. I just laughed quietly. Fifteen minutes after LK had dropped us off at our apartment, he called. "David, you left your bag in my van." "Yes, my friend, I know. It looks like we must meet again." "Yes," he queried. Then he laughed a nervous little laugh.

Greetings from SE Asia!

Our plane landed on Friday evening, April 23. We stayed at a motel that evening and were met the next morning by our friends. We visited a national pastor in the capital on our way to our destination. He and his wife have labored here for 20 years. They provided great insight concerning work in this part of Asia. They encouraged us to be very diligent and careful in our work.

The three hour ride to our new home was filled with breathtaking scenery. The mountains of Asia are unlike any I have ever seen. They seemingly rise from the ground indiscriminately and steeply push towards the clouds. They are amazing! The scenery and the weather are both wonderful. (However, the humidity can be a bit overwhelming.)

We were treated to a "real" Chinese meal on Monday evening. The massive prawns and the selection of seafood were a bit overwhelming to a boy from the Midwest, but we survived! The 10 locals that hosted us were delightful, and gave us some first-hand commentary on life in Asia.

We have already made several friends. Among them is a couple from Siberia who live in our building. Diane had the opportunity to spend some serious time with her last week. We hope that this week we will be able to talk to them more thoroughly about the Lord. Another neighbor is from Switzerland. We also have plans to meet with them this week. You can remember them in your prayers.

Yesterday, we had the joy of meeting with about 15 others in worship. I cannot tell you how blessed we were to see their hunger for the Lord and His word. Please ask the Lord to help us share His word with them powerfully and effectively.

We certainly love you all and remember you in our prayers. We appreciate the same in return.

Dave and Diane