Ratanakiri is the Northeastern-most Province in the Kingdom of Cambodia. It touches Laos to the north and Vietnam to the east and is rich in mineral and agricultural resources. It is also home to a very diverse group of Cambodia’s many indigenous, ethnic-minority communities. I lived there for six weeks of my last eight weeks here in SE Asia. I was working mostly on a bamboo conservation project that was initiated recently by local, indigenous youth, but I dipped in to a lot of goings-on and wanted to share some of my more ‘churchy’ reflections here.
The first Sunday I was there I visited the Ban Lung Christian Church. The church itself is unattractive, a small wooden building set back off one of the main drags in the provincial capital – Ban Lung. It’s adorned, on the side facing the road, with a small white cross. And the simplicity of the building reflected the simplicity of the community which worshipped within its walls on Sunday mornings. Besides a curiously devastating painting of the birth of Christ on the front wall, the church – as you enter – is very inviting. Members sit on the floor in a semi-circle facing the pastor. The un-intimidating man offers his thoughts on a few Proverbs and some Psalms that focus the congregants on the power of their own ‘tongues’ to transform ‘life into death,’ or vice-versa – a fresh look into empowerment in the context of a Cambodian church seemingly hell-bent on being ‘given’ the ‘right’ answers. Luckily, I had my own personal translator, though often a late one – which caused an interesting phenomenon. At one point, I noted how the preacher had the same sort of praying style as the traditional charismatic, evangelical preachers had in Phnom Penh, this one though, was less forceful, more inviting. I remember thinking this particular prayer was ‘lofty,’ in a sense, with participants hands lifted to the sky, eyes shut and underlined by wide smiles. Just then, my ‘late’ translator tapped me on the shoulder and told me they were praying for local land alienation issues – a completely unexpected topic in a tiny, rural church in northeastern Cambodia. It struck me, though, that the only expatriates in the room were listening silently – as opposed to the Africans in Phnom Penh who seemed to be importing their own theologies, regardless of Cambodian culture and history. Here, in Ban Lung, it seemed, the locals were working their theologies out for themselves and they had decided that church was a good place to talk about – and pray about – land alienation issues, for example. I became totally convinced when the pastors teaching about tithes (on a separate Sunday) turned into a full fledged discussion involving several church members (men and women) – light though it may have been – on whether a chicken egg should be given as a tithe or a first-fruit. Again, on the flip-side of my experience in Phnom Penh, here was a Cambodian church that was apparently integrating the Gospel into their own lives, culture and history. And, for me, that was refreshing.
I’ll share two other experiences quickly. I visited, subsequently, a Krung church in O Chum District, very close to Ban Lung, and an expatriate service also held in Ban Lung although, this time, in English. The Krung church was hard for me to be critical of – and that should make you critical of my words about it. It was, largely, a romantic experience for me. The Krung people are one of the indigenous communities in Ratanakiri province. They have their own language, ways of living and relating with each other and with nature. They are one of those groups that National Geographic would have a heyday with – probably already have. And so, as I walked up the little bamboo later into the bamboo structure that serves as a church building in this Krung village, I knew there wouldn’t be much they could do to make me mad. As I entered – and for the next thirty minutes or so – they were playing traditional instruments (made of bamboo) and singing in that kind of deep, throaty unison that most US Americans probably associate with indigenously African songs. I sort of hummed along and breathed deeply in that – still very romantic – space. I didn’t have a translator that day, so theology wasn’t important – and I realized maybe I should just quit being so concerned with theology all the time and learn to just sing to the Lord with my Christian brothers and sisters around the world.
The other service was an expatriate service in Ban Lung that essentially called together all the Christian expatriates in town that preferred, for an evening at least, some English language worship. I was struck by the reality that this group – as well as the local gatherings of Khmer Christians and Krung Christians – is also a part of the Southeast Asian Church. And this church worshipped much like traditional churches back home. We sang a few hymns (unfortunately, for me, in a relatively boring unison), heard a short teaching that would probably remind most of us of several other short teachings we’ve heard before and shared food and fellowship together after some passionate prayer. I was strangely comforted by this traditional worship service and thought again about the importance or non-importance of ‘right’ theologies.
So the church has many faces – even where it is only relatively recently breaking into history here in Cambodia. I have been moved by my many experiences in this context. I wish I had the time and know-how to share more of it with you. I hope to be writing more in the next week or so – and then others will fly in and you won’t have to keep reading, exclusively, my thoughts and opinions. Thanks for participating in this journey.
Tim Showalter – Phnom Penh, Cambodia

Posted by Tim Showalter

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