Gecko Tales

They Admitted They Were Aliens

The short-term team of nine arrived intact from Seattle, and the next day we found ourselves being led by Dr. Kek Galabru of Licadho (A Human Rights Organization) out to a relocation camp called “Andong Village” which was a few kilometers beyond the airport. A year and half before, almost 8000 homeless people from all over Cambodia were living in simple structures on a few acres along the riverside in Phnom Penh until one day the government swept them all up, bulldozed their thatch and plastic homes, and shipped them to the outskirts of Phnom Penh (beautification of the riverside for tourism purposes). Relief Organizations provided plastic tarps, wood, and basic staples. UNICEF provided some clean water. Today, the clean water is gone and the people are drinking pond water. The Relief organizations have come and gone. Finding work 15 kilometers away in the city is prohibitive. We walked circumspectly down the trail into the tree-less village, avoiding cow paddies, human waste, and half burned garbage. As the heat cranked up, so did the various smells that accompanied so many people living on about three acres of land. IDPs, they call them: Internally Displaced People. Refugees and aliens in their own country, not knowing if this make-shift camp will be their permanent home or if there will be a better place in the future. They are looking for a better place. The government keeps making promises of a better place.

Chapter eleven of Hebrews is often said to contain the “Heroes of the Faith.” If you take a close look at them, they were all quite messed up in one sense or another, and one might wonder in what way should we make them role models? Gideon’s cowardice, Abraham’s lying, Noah’s drunkenness, Samson’s appetite for forbidden women, Jephthah’s illegitimacy, Moses’ lack of God confidence, Rahab’s career, David’s lust, lies, and murder, etc— these were some raw characters. But heroes they were, in that according to Hebrews 11:13; “All these people were still living by faith when they died. They did not receive the things promised; they only saw them and welcomed them from a distance. They admitted they were aliens and strangers on the earth, longing for a better country—a heavenly one.”

What was it about these swarthy characters’ faith that caused the writer of Hebrew to overlook their sin and character faults in order that they might be classified as heroes?

Might it be that they took extreme risks with their own lives for their faith? That they under went some serious suffering for their faith? Or was it that their identity wasn’t shaped by a culture gone awry. They knew who they were; resident aliens on a life-long journey with a mind-set that kept them unsettled, restless, and looking not to settle down into this life, but looking beyond it to something better. They had no idea where they were going but they were trusting God to get them there. Their journey was full of pitfalls and setbacks, and was also marked by sacrifice, risk, and looking past their intrinsic need for comfort and security.

Like foreigners looking quite out of place, male, female, old, young, short, tall, thin, stout, and some balding, we walked down the first alley of the shanty town basted in sun screen and bug repellant, wearing caps or bush hats. We were met by young mothers with babies. Some of the mothers had that thousand-yard stare look to them, and most could no longer provide breast milk for their nursing children. One young mother’s feet were crippled by polio, and another young mother had a heart defect and had trouble breathing. Their small babies were suffering from malnutrition, dehydration, and diarrhea. Many were widows or women are had been divorced. The mothers begged for milk and medicine. Dr. Galabru, a Cambodian woman in her sixties was on her cell phone constantly trying to get clean water and some milk delivered. The Cambodian doctor she brought along was busy the whole time. That day I held my share of tiny babies, but I couldn’t help wondering, what will I catch, Lice, Tuberculosis? None of these babies wore diapers, either. I was taking a risk but was ashamed for thinking about myself in the midst of their suffering. What is real faith without risk? I think of again of Hebrews 11, then John the Baptist, Jesus, the Apostles, the Disciples and the early church up until the time of Constantine.

Some may wonder why the church in the Northern Hemisphere is declining while great growth is being experienced in South America, Africa, and parts of Asia. Could one of the reasons for this decline be that risk is no longer associated with our faith, and that personal piety has replaced mission?

Still being a product of western culture my self, I find it is quite frustrating at times, to wait and contemplate the promises of God from afar because contemporary marketing promises to deliver whatever I want right now. Global capitalism promises to deliver me comfort, security, and instant respectability through their products. It’s hard to hold out for the best, especially when risk is called for.

Cambodian Pastor, Sambo, was preaching on the verse, “Seek Ye First the Kingdom of God…” as many Cambodia Christians are jumping ship to churches that are backed by money, or getting jobs in Christian organizations that are pretty cushy. The pastor was encouraging his flock not to become a domesticated group of Christians, but to seek God’s will first, rather than spending time and effort to make sure their lives are properly cushioned. He related a conversation with a policeman about why the police weren’t doing their jobs; “It’s like this Pastor; one time there was a King in a palace that had a big problem with mice. He was planning a big anniversary celebration and he did not want any dignitaries, diplomats, other royalty, or any guests to see that he had a problem with vermin. The King’s Palace managers went out and hired a veteran cat who served in many animal wars. It was his job to clean up the palace. Before the celebration the veteran cat went to every mouse hole and gave the leading mouse three days of food and told him to stay tucked away for a few days until after the celebration. This went on for years, and the King never saw any mice during a party, or celebration. The cat advanced in rank until he was a full colonel. He then he retired but still lived on the premises. The King hired a new cat with only a tour of duty or so under his belt. The new recruit wanted to impress the retired cat so during his first day on the job he eradicated the entire palace of mice. The lucky few mice that managed to escape were so terrified that they were wont to ever return again. After a few months the new cat was given a pink slip because he wasn’t needed anymore; the palace was clean of mice. The old Colonel cat slept soundly on his mat.” The policeman said to the pastor, “So which kind of cat do you think we should be?”

Pastor Sambo was using the illustration to ask his congregation, “What kind of Christian do you want to be, a resident alien, or settler? The Biblical Metaphor, ‘resident alien’ is first found when Sarah dies and Abraham asks the Hittites for a burial site.

No too many of us have literally been resident aliens so it might difficult to relate well to this metaphor, but it part of the Christian identity is rooted in having resident alien status.

What would it look like for the church in the Northern Hemisphere to take the mantel of being a resident alien? Being a resident alien is not all that comfortable because all of us have the need to belong or to feel at home in our culture or the culture that hosts us. We all intrinsically need to know where we belong, and how we fit in. Since the Cambodian culture is not our own culture, Debbi and I are constantly forced to engage our host culture, and this is difficult because all our normal cultural support is not there to tell us what to do, or how to be. How do I discern what it means to be me in this culture when all my cultural support which I have taken for granted is no longer available to me? Whether it is me in Cambodia or you in your country, both of us should strive to understand our culture and the cultural expectations. Being aware of how our culture shapes us as a person will teach us much about ourselves. It will challenge and stretch us. This has been our journey and we have been shaped greatly by it.

There is good news for the church in the Northern Hemisphere and that is that it is no longer counted as a pillar of society as it had been since the days of the Puritans. I guess that could mean bad news to some but it is back on the edge, back on the margins of society, back where it was in the first century, back where faith meant risk, and risk was blessed abundantly. The church in the Northern Hemisphere has been tagged irrelevant in the new millennium and has been marginalized. The good news is that the church in the Northern Hemisphere doesn’t have to cross oceans to be missional because there is a whole new generation of post-moderns under 35 who know little or nothing about Jesus or his offer of Kingdom citizenship. Granted, these young people will not accept an institutional form of church, but they might want to follow Jesus with their own cultural expression. It might be time for us to look around on the margins where we have been placed to see who our new neighbors are. Rather than try to restore the respectability we enjoyed during days gone by, we might reach out to our new unrespectable marginalized neighbors who are probably looking for a better place.

There was a bigger risk in holding those babies than lice or disease. I can’t stop thinking about them and I don’t know where that is going to lead! And I didn’t you tell that when we first entered the village that we were greeted by one of our former Diamond Project Students who had set up a church on the edge (the margin) of the settlement with the help of Dr. Frank Cho of InnerChange (a part of CRM) where they run a clinic certain hours during the week. Pastor Abraham has made many friends and inroads into the shanty-town. Something about being out on the margin, the edge, with the marginalized that seems to work.

I met my Hebrew Chapter 11 Heroes at the resettlement village of Andong last Saturday, both believing (Abraham) and yet to believe (Licadho President and staff).