Songs

I Need a Silent Night

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by Elizabeth

The pace of life in Phnom Penh can, all too often, be hurried and hectic. It’s not your traditional (imaginary) missionary life. It’s crazy, and it’s crazy-making, and I need to call a time-out. I need some space to breathe.

Over the last four months especially, a series of events have left me feeling dry and depleted. And now we’re smack dab in the middle of the holiday season, a season that creates its own frenzy. Lights! Tinsel! Frosted cookies!

Invitations pile up. Attendance feels mandatory at open houses and parties, cookie exchanges and carolings, even church services. These are all worthwhile and enjoyable activities. Even so, the expectations begin to mount. And for me, this time around, it all felt like a mountain I couldn’t scale.

When exactly did having Christmas cheer come to mean doing lots of Christmas activities? I don’t just want the appearance of Christmas cheer; I want Christmas cheer on the inside. But I’m not sure I can get it by doing Christmas the way it’s usually done.

So this year, I’m rebelling. I want a simple Christmas, and I’m taking drastic measures. I’m turning down invitations. I’m aware this might make me appear Scrooge-like and Grinchy. I’m risking it anyway. I’m sitting this season out. (On my couch.) I’m regrouping, retrenching, retreating. Clearing the calendar, saying no, and staying home.

In a culture where our worth is measured by how busy we are, I’m choosing to be countercultural, to go against the flow — or better yet, to drop out of the flow. For the sake of my sanity and for the good of my family’s emotional health.

So this Christmas season, you’ll find me sitting in my living room each evening, main lights dimmed but tree lights twinkling. You’ll find me singing my favorite Christmas carols with my family, resting in the news of the Christ Child and welcoming the peace He brings.

I’m losing myself in the marvel of the Christmas Story, in the wonder of the God-made-flesh, the One who dwelt among men. I’m ignoring the social scene and even the rush to buy presents, and I’m getting swept up in the mystery and majesty of the Nativity. I’m absorbing the Advent, and meeting God in the Messiah. I’m slowing down and savoring the story of our Savior.

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*Title inspired by Amy Grant’s song “I Need a Silent Night”

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Youth Ministry is Different in Asia: Reflections on My First Graduation Service

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by Elizabeth

Last week I attended my first graduation service for one of the city’s international schools. And while I’ve been to my fair share of graduations — having literally stumbled into youth ministry at the young age of 19 — this one was different.

I had always been happy for the graduates, never sad. I knew I’d see them at Thanksgiving, and at Christmas, and again during their summer break. I would probably be at their wedding in a few years, and maybe even at their baby shower.

Not so here. Here, graduates say goodbye, and often, it’s forever. So we all say goodbye, knowing it might be forever. And every year there are those who leave, never to return, even though they’re not graduates. Students, teachers, others.

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A Tribute to the Humble Hymn

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by Elizabeth

Music is powerful. The songs we sing shape our worldview, and guide our relationship with God. We remember their messages much more readily in times of need.

The musical messages of my childhood were provided by hymns. I love hymns. Just singing the words of a hymn is like praying. The words are already there, I don’t have to formulate them — but they express my heart nonetheless. The struggles, the yearnings, the assurances, they are the same for me today as they were for the believers who have gone before me. Hymns connect me with the great cloud of witnesses like nothing else, and this is such a comfort to me.

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In Which I Ask God to Take Back His City

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by Elizabeth

Over New Year’s, I received my “Word” for this year — a word I am very excited about, a word that brings together everything I have learned about missions so far. But to explain this year’s word, I need to go back to the first time I chose a word for the year, back to January 2011.

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Heaven and Human Trafficking (Imago Dei, Part 2 of 2)

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by Elizabeth

(You can read Part 1 here.)

I’m not a crier. At least, I wasn’t, until I moved to Cambodia. I witness more pain and injustice here than I’m really equipped to handle. Consequently, I spent most of this hot season crying.

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