A Southeast Asian Church: A Bit of History and a Touch of Theology
Finally, the folded hands – six inches from the chest, thumbs inward, pinkies outward and the bowed head – were not the (still awkward) Khmer traditional greeting, but were the (at least vaguely comfortable) folded hands of traditional Christian prayer. I was in my first church in Cambodia. I was still muttering “Chum Riep Suah,” as I held my hands in front of me, but it felt a little bit more comfortable under that roof. I knew, at least, that the folks around me had heard of Jesus and were committed to ‘following’ him – whatever that might mean. I quickly learned that it meant something completely different than what I have come to understand it to mean. And that, at least on that first Sunday, it seemed that some concept of Jesus might be the only theological connection that we had – and even on that concept, we often missed each other sharply. But those considerations will have to be developed later – and perhaps time, and broader experience, will temper – for the better – my, fairly critical, original analysis.
They say about 95 percent of Cambodia is Buddhist, Christianity only noticeably squeezing its way into that remaining five percent since the early 1980’s. It purportedly arrived in 1555, when some Roman Catholic missionaries came into Cambodia on their travels into India, Malaysia and China. There were dribbles of missionaries, then, until just before the Khmer Rouge (in the late 1970’s), but Christianity (and now it is mostly Protestant) didn’t really catch on until after the those atrocious years, when, as one official from Church World Service noted, the Khmer people needed a new ‘hope’ and new ‘God.’ He also mentioned their noticing ‘real works of the Holy Spirit’ – which are often more readily apparent in a land of extremes, like Cambodia. He guesses that over 90 percent of churches meet in houses, but knows of over 40 or 50 buildings in Phnom Penh – that’s a lot of Christians! Or is it? The representative from Church World Service also wanted us to know that a new church doesn’t always mean more members; sometimes it means a split. And splits there are! When a Prosperity Gospel and J-ello snacks are part of one pastor’s sermons and a Social Gospel and communion are part of another’s, empty stomachs and convicted hearts encourage all kinds of loyalty trades.
In its newness, in which its excitement and passion are highlighted, the church in Cambodia is extremely attractive to me – a theology addict (and occasionally dutiful follower of Jesus) coming from a church where singing “I Bind My Heart this Tide” seems a fortunate, and rare, glimpse of emotion. My theological addiction, however, highlights another, not so positive element, of the church’s newness. It is relatively wanting, in terms of critical theological reflection and implementation. I try not to be too critical, after all, I come from a tradition that has – until very recently – avoided the academy altogether and prided itself on its pastors who farmed and dwelled in caves. At one point ‘my people,’ the Protestants, were taking the Bible out of the hands of the theologians and putting it into the hands of the ‘uneducated’ – something I’m very grateful for. Reading about history is one thing though. When I was at church one morning in Phnom Penh, I heard a pastor (at New Born Assembly, Phnom Penh) tell a room full of extremely poor (at least by Western standards) congregants that they should “expect good job opportunities if [they] believe in God.” And later, they were promised healing in exchange for belief. I wondered how that sounded to the kid in the third row who got up after the sermon and limped back through the crowd to the bathroom. Maybe it was sickness, maybe a landmine, but that young man was thinking hard about what that pastor had promised that morning – I’m sure of it. And at a Friday night prayer service, I wondered what it would sound like to have an African man scream at me about the power of the “blood of Jesus” – over and over again – with the blood of the Khymer Rouge so fresh in my mind and the collective consciousness of my community. My initial reflections and responses: Critical.
Christianity is blooming here. Not always a Christianity that I know how to get excited about, but a Christianity non-the-less. It’s exciting to see the church in another part of the world. It’s fascinating to see Christianity toddling in its youth amidst the religious dynasty of Cambodia’s animistic-Buddhism. I look forward to experiencing new churches – new flavors of this country’s Jesus movement. I hope you continue to experience them with us.
Tim Showalter – Phnom Penh, Cambodia
March 28th, 2007 at 1:57 pm
Tim, thanks for this note on your experiences there in Cambodia. It sounds like a major growth experience…. I’m sure you’re already light years ahead of many of us in understanding what it means to encounter church in a different culture. Blessings to you as you continue your work.
A thought I had on your mention of the boy who was still limping after having been promised healing: It’s probably very important for him to understand that God wants to and will heal him…either now or later…maybe not even in this short mortal life…but that at sometime or other (maybe in that time when the tears are wiped from our eyes?) wholeness and healing are his in the fellowship of Christ the healer. In my teenage years, when I was struggling to be free from sexual addiction and homosexual orientation, I became very cynical, feeling that God was not answering my prayers for healing. Eventually that cynicism threatened to undermine my hope and faith and drive me from God. But it was a matter of timing and maturity. I was not ready to accept healing as God wanted to give it (I wanted the quick fix); I had to reach a bottom (a point of powerlessness) and realize that God is still offering healing, but only if I surrender to his way. I can’t presume to judge why God allows people to suffer from pain and disease, but I’m sure it’s crucial for the suffering to hear and believe that God will heal them someday. I think we live by that kind of hope and faith…. Just a thought
April 9th, 2007 at 2:38 am
Tim, As I read your observations on Church in Cambodia I had instant flashbacks to my own observations of the exact same thing when I was in Cambodia. I again felt cynicism even anger toward that prosperity gospel which has misled so many people, especially marginalized people. My first tendency is to lose hope in the Church, but I sense that while you are critical you still have hope. thanks for that. The Church is alive and well even in the midst of our human failings. blessings to you in your journey.
April 16th, 2007 at 2:08 pm
Dear Tim, not only is this beautiful writing, but a beautiful story that I am eager to see unfold. You are doing amazing things–thank you for sharing your thoughts and journey with us. You are in my prayers (they are becoming more frequent again, with thanks to you). Peace!
April 22nd, 2007 at 4:22 am
Thanks to Forrest, Anna and Pauline for you thoughtful responses. I wanted to especially thank Forrest for your suggestion about hoping for God’s ultimate healing and for sharing your tough personal stories as examples. You bring up a point that I neglected in my response - the piece of trusting in God’s healing and blessing that is so critical to Christian faith. I assume there is one of those lines here, or maybe some tension that we have to live within. Let us not forget to make it clear (and this is where you’ve helped Forrest) that we worship a God who offers healing and blessing - both spiritual and physical, but let us also be wary of employing that reality lightly as some kind of bait for evangelism or shiny reward to draw in the crowds.
I admit it’s hard for me to know when to be critical about questions of ‘healing’ and ‘blessing.’ It seems like the folks in the biblical stories were pretty comfortable talking about it frequently and loudly. Maybe it’s the Anabaptist in me (and all that Schleitheim, commitment stuff), but I find myself dancing around any theology that makes people think that joining the Kingdom of God is a joy ride - and that all sorrows will go away…
There’s some more thoughts. Share some more, Forrest, if you want, or does anyone else have thoughts?
April 23rd, 2007 at 3:50 pm
Thanks, Tim, for fleshing this out more. I think you’re absolutely right, that healing and blessing must not be used “as some kind of bait for evangelism or shiny reward to draw in the crowds.” So much of this is done in the form of “believe it and you’ll receive it” kinds of preaching and teaching that do little to encourage true surrender and discipleship.
My experience of behavioral, emotional, psychological and spiritual healing is that I must first “die” to be raised to new life–that death/surrender is part of the healing process. Lately, the following statement made in Philippians 3:10-11 has come to hold new meaning for me: “I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection, and the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, and so somehow to attain to the resurrection from the dead.” This statement used to trouble me. I knew I was dead in my sin and that I needed resurrection, but I struggled with what “becoming like Christ in his death” meant. I wondered if it meant that we all needed to be martyred or killed for our faith. Now, since I have been in recovery from addiction, I think I finally know what Paul meant. When I am willing to surrender–to die to my own will (which surrender will someday include physical death, but so far means dying to my sinful desires, my rights or privileges)–when I can say with Jesus, “Thy will, not mine, be done”–then I have become like Christ in his death and I will also share in his resurrection. My old man passes away and I am made a new man. I am healed. And it’s definitely an ongoing process–not once and done.
Again, I’m speaking from experience with behavioral/emotional/psychological/spiritual healing. Physical suffering is something I have no real experience with. Would anyone out there have a perspective on how healing happens for those who suffer physically?