testimony

-by Elizabeth

It’s popular nowadays to bash church. It seems like everybody’s doing it.

But you won’t find me doing it.

And here is the reason why: I love church.

My love for the church of Jesus Christ isn’t blind. People I love have been hurt by church people. I’ve been hurt by church people. I’ve been in church long enough to know ALL about church politics . . . and to have been on the receiving end of those politics. I’ve suffocated in spiritually abusive church environments. I’ve been molested by a church leader.

But I still can’t bash church.

Because church is one of God’s greatest inventions.

Church is where I learned God wants to be part of my everyday life, and where I just.keep.on finding Him in worship.

Church is where I discovered that I love young people. And that serving feels good.

Church is where I’ve learned all sorts of valuable things from these wise women we like to call elders’ wives . . . That a good husband doesn’t oppress his wife, but sacrifices for her. That a ministry wife needs to have thick skin. That even elder’s wives struggle with some of the very same sins I have struggled with.

Church was where I first met a real, live person who had battled an eating disorder, and who prayed for me to be healed from mine.

Church is where families adopted me as a college student. They fed me and let me do my laundry. They picked me up from my dorm to go walking, just to talk to a sad, lonely college student.

The church is who took care of me when I was very sick after Faith’s birth.

The church is who took care of me when my husband had viral meningitis.

Church is where I consistently find compassion and strength and friendship when I face discouragement and confusion and anger.

It was in church where I learned that sometimes I am the one who hurts other people.

So it became the place I learned that I needed grace, and where I learned I didn’t understand grace, and where I learned that other people have difficulty understanding God’s grace too.

It’s a place I’m learning to extend grace to other people, and to receive it myself.

Those things didn’t happen at one individual Perfect Church. Instead, they happened at different churches, over many years, and separated by an ocean. God’s people are like that. They love. On all continents. At all times.

I love the way I feel when I’m with other believers. I love the way we love each other. I love the Person who brings us together. And didn’t Jesus think His Church was a pretty good idea too, since he prayed for it just before he died for it?

I better believe in church. I am, after all, a church planting missionary. I dream of seeing lots and lots of churches full of Khmer believers. I dream of seeing lots of lots of churches full of American believers. All thriving.

And I am here today to proclaim that I love the church.

I love the church.

Note: This experience happened awhile back, before both the Night of the Epi-Pen and also the possible attempted break-in. But because what happened in this story is significant to my life and ministry in Cambodia, I’m still going to share it, even if it’s a little late.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I love my neighbors. Yes, the ones that might move. (Insert frowny face here.) I cherish a special affection for two ladies in particular. They always welcome me to sit down and talk with them while they cook. My communication with them is rather stop-and-start, but they never seem impatient with me.

A couple weeks ago, as my kids were playing outside, I walked up to these two ladies and made small talk. Small talk about babies. My friend just had twins; I asked about the word for twin. Small talk about pregnancy. The neighbor is pregnant; I shared stories from my pregnancies. Small talk about cooking. They asked about mine; I told them it’s not great. Small talk about the weather, about wet season and dry season. About how different it is from America, that for six months, it almost never rains, and then during the next six months, barely a day goes by that it doesn’t rain.

I make small talk because studying 2 hours a day for 6 months just cannot produce a fluent speaker. That amount of study enables me to navigate life in this city . . . and to make small talk.

They offered me vegetable soup; it smelled wonderful. I sat down to eat it with them; it tasted as good as it smelled. While we were eating together, one of the ladies asked me to tell her about myself. Jonathan had told her I was a scientist, and she wanted to know about my education. So I started to tell her.

I told her I liked studying math when I was younger. I liked studying science when I was younger. Then I decided to go to university to study more math and science.

I realized, though, as I was telling my education story, that it’s not just an education story. It’s a testimony. A testimony to the Creator’s work, and to my love for that Creator.

I still remember Mr. Fox’s 9th grade geometry class, where I first learned about right angle trigonometry and was struck with the realization that God invented those mesmerizing SOH CAH TOA relationships. I used to talk about how I really “found God” in Scientific American magazine. The universe God created, from the tiniest quark to the largest galactic supercluster, and every element of my beloved Periodic Table in between, amazes me. God amazes me.

I wanted to tell her that.

But I couldn’t.

The closest I could get was, “The God that is above everything, the God that created everything, I am amazed by the stuff He made. So I like to study it.”

I once heard another missionary mom say she was on the “20 year plan” to learning Khmer. I liked that phrase so much that I’ve incorporated in into my own personal vernacular. Being on the 20-year plan means I plan to study Khmer, summer after homeschool summer, until I’m no longer homeschooling my children. I thought I would just review my first 6 months of study and practice basic conversation this summer. I didn’t think I’d get to spiritual conversations until, oh, about year 8 or so. I certainly didn’t expect it to happen in year 2.

But my neighbors taught me something that night. Something important. They taught me that when people ask me, the foreigner, “What do you do? Why are you here?” I have this amazing opportunity to inject my testimony, my faith in God, into their lives.

Even if I am on the 20 year plan.

So I have a new goal for my summer study: I can learn how to say my testimony. I can memorize my story. And I can plant tiny seeds of faith while answering the most basic of questions: What on earth are you doing in Cambodia?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands. Day after day they pour forth speech; night after night they reveal knowledge. They have no speech, they use no words; no sound is heard from them. Yet their voice goes out into all the earth, their words to the ends of the world. Psalm 19:1-4

Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have. 1 Peter 3:15