Doing ministry in Thailand is a daily surprise. You never know what exactly you’re doing, where you’re going, or what you’re going to see. Most of these days have consisted of excessive amounts of painting, shoveling sand filled with angry fire ants, scrubbing walls, and more painting. Wednesday’s ministry didn’t look much different. We spent the day cleaning out a building from top to bottom. We were moving furniture, organizing boxes, scrubbing walls- the usual. While the jobs we’re doing here are important, there’s nothing glorious about them. Nobody is brought to tears by the story of how I was kneeling on the ground for 30 minutes scrubbing a wall with a brush. These are the parts of ministry that seem to truly be the hardest. Lately I find myself complaining to the Lord a lot.
“God, why am I in Thailand painting a room? Why am I covered head to toe in sweat and dirt every day but not even getting to minister to people? How is this helping the anyone here?” This afternoon, all of that changed.
Mason, one of the members of Outpour Movement, needed to drop some garbage off at the dump in Mae Sot today. He offered to bring four of us girls with him so we could see what it was like. I had already heard stories of the dump from other members of our team that saw it earlier in the week, and I knew it would be hard, but I wanted to see it for myself. I was aware of the families living at the dump, but I was not truly prepared for what I was going to see.
Before we arrived at the dump we stopped at a local convenience store and picked up 20 cartons of milk and 20 packs of cookies to give to the families at the dump. My heart began to race as we got closer- I was so scared of what we were going to see. When we arrived at the dump I felt a piece of my heart break.
Lining the sides of the street were “houses” made of wood and straw. They sat in ditches filled with garbage and mud. Children ran around in the filth, not even hazed by where they were. Let me say that again- children.
The rest of our time at the dump is kind of a blur of confusion, frustration, pain, and tears. We handed out the milk cartons and cookies to some grateful locals. The mothers faces were filled with joy and appreciation, but there was so much more behind their smiles. Their eyes told a story of a life that nobody should have to endure. Their strength was more than anything I’ve ever seen. As we drove away from the dump I felt like a piece of me was left behind. Nothing in my life has ever made me feel that way before.
We got back to our house and I curled up on the couch like a child and cried. I begged and pleaded with Jesus to save them. I cried out for Him to take them out of their life and to give them a new one; one with no hardships and no suffering. A life with a nice house, clean clothes, ample amounts of food, and clean water. Then Jesus reminded me of something. He was already with them. Just because they lived a life completely different from ours doesn’t mean they aren’t saved. The Lord has found his way into that community through volunteers and pastors, and through that, they have been saved in a way that truly matters.
When I found myself feeling guilty for what I have I realized that I was looking at the situation the wrong way. The Lord has blessed me with a wonderful life. I have an amazing family that loves me, a roof above my head, a wonderful education, and the means to accomplish any dream I have. That is not something to feel guilty for, but something to rejoice. It’s something that I have an obligation to use for furthering God’s love. Because of everything God has provided for me I am able to come to Thailand to serve people.
“Here I am. Send me!” Isaiah 6:8
