One year ago,

I jammed the spare key Tina made me into the keyhole and used just the right amount of finesse and wiggling and praying it takes to open that stubborn door, dropped my bags down on the floor, started boiling water to make tea, and threw my phone on Tina’s bed before slumping down into the soft, warm comfort of that tiny apartment that had become such a home to me. No one else was home so my mind felt the freedom and space it needed to think and reflect on the last 10 days in Nepal; even farther to the last 365 days in Seoul.

…

Psalm 23, the chapter God put on my heart right before leaving for missions.
So cold.
Wet nap showers. 
Freezing buckets of water.
Nepal. 

 -The Lord is my Shepherd-

Myunghwa on the floor in the middle of the night trying to warm herself up with a single small candle.
Everyone with stomach aches.
All my time is gone to do ministry.
Can’t I just go back to school? Get my masters?

-I shall not want-

Seven jackets piled on top of my feverish body; I hear in the distant background Pastor Phurpu’s voice, quavering, as he tells us his disciple died sharing the Gospel in the Himalayan Mountains.

-He makes me lie down in green pastures-

“God healed my heart, and He brought rivers of living water into my life, where there was only wasteland,” I spoke into the sea of young eyes peering up at me.

-He leads me beside quiet waters-

A Year of Intimacy.
The most lonely year of my life.
The year Jesus said He would call me His friend.

“We are going to wait for the Lord to pour His rain down on us,” John Michael’s patient, sure words filling the bar lines of this symphony of beauty that God’s Presence was creating in the room.
A woman, the rain, the pianist, the youth, the people, the rain, everywhere, falling one by one, dropping to the ground under the weight of His Presence.
God’s Spirit reviving a generation.

-He restores my soul-

A year of coldness, barriers, isolation, disillusionment, masked behind indifference and a worn smile.
Bitterness closes my heart.

-He guides me in paths of righteousness-

“I think I made a mistake. Can I just go back home, to Arkansas?” Tears, pain, pleas escaping from the depths of me and losing life as they touch the air.

-For His Name’s sake-

…

Suddenly, stirring me from the world of thoughts barraging my mind, my phone lights up from its place on Tina’s bed.

“Rona, call me right now.” a text from my brother.
My brother who works for AT&T and never calls or texts internationally because he knows how much it’s going to cost him. Will texted.

One short breath in.
Something feels off.
Something, inside, familiar and distinct, startles me to alertness.

Hands, fingers, numbers, contacts, calling, ringing- 
“Hello?” he says.

-Even though I walk through the valley-

“Rona. Rona, I’m so sorry to tell you this. I know you just got back from Nepal,” his voice, my big brother’s voice that is normally so calm, the voice I’ve always gone to for strength, begins to tremble and grow so distant I can barely hear,
“but dad just passed away. We just found out. It was…”

-the valley of the shadow-

“…so unexpected.
The doctors had no idea…”

-even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death-

“…making the funeral plans, but we want to know when you can come…”

-I will fear no evil-

“…so sorry, Rona, that you have to find out like this. And you’re so far away from…”

-for You are with me-

“I love you so much. Mom loves you.”

-You’re rod and Your staff, they comfort me-

 “And before dad passed away, I got to see him…Rona are you there? Are you okay?”

…

Pictures.

Images.

Sickness.

Hospital beds.

All the doctor visits.

Sitting in his lap.

Watching him play-wrestle my brother on the floor, acting like Will had seriously hurt him and hiding a chuckle as my brother smiled and danced around in victory.

…

Hearing his truck pull up late at night when everyone else was sleeping, sneaking out of my room in my pjs and sitting right down beside him. He’d pull ice cream out of the freezer, grab two spoons and with the same mischievous look of an 8-year old boy whisper, like it was the biggest secret in the world, “just don’t tell your mom or brother,” then grin and hand me a spoon.

…

Sitting next him in his pickup truck as we tore down the dirt road leading to our farm and he belted out the wrong words all at the wrong pitch to overly sentimental country songs.

…

Being at a complete loss for words as he looked straight into my eyes and said,

“ask for anything you want, Rona, and I’ll give it to you.”

“b-but I, I,” too much fear and shame from the words he spoke from the beginning, words that built me into what I had become, blocked my mind from imagining and my heart from daring to want,

“I don’t want anything, dad,” as I looked to the ground I prayed he didn’t see the tears falling from my eyes.

“Rona, ask me for anything, and I’ll give it to you,” he repeated.

This time something deep within me, something warm like the sun and scary like stepping into the ocean after a long and cold winter, something like hope and trust, flickered inside me and without thinking I blurted out,

“well, dad, it would be so fun to go to Disney World!!!” but as soon as the words left my mouth the fear and shame flooded into my heart and I began to plead,

“but it’s okay, I mean I don’t really want to go, I jus—“

“Okay,” he interrupted, “let’s go tomorrow.”

He picked up the phone book and his road map and immediately started plotting out our trip.

“Wh-whaaaat?!!!” I jumped up to my feet and squeezed his neck for just a second before tearing through the house to my big brother’s room screaming,

“dad’s taking us to DISNEY WORRRRRRRRLD just because I asked him!”

…

Walking through the store with him, had it been 3, 4 years since his last visit? I had grown older and harder and knew more things about the world.
He asked, with a voice that seemed so much more quiet and unsure than it did when I was a small girl and he would storm through the house in rage screaming.
He asked, with eyes first searching mine until he could see that I knew. I knew about his secrets.
He asked, with eyes now looking down toward the ground,

“Rona, is there anything you need? Anything you need for school? For your car? I’ll buy you anything you want.”

“No, dad,” I rolled my eyes, so annoyed that I had to drive him there in the first place, “there is nothing that I want. Nothing that I want from you.”

But inside, my heart screaming, don’t you know the one thing I want from you, dad? Can’t you know by now?

We walked side-by-side in silence, picking up his things, walking slower than usual because his left leg had started hurting recently.

…

“I know it’s not much,” he lifted something out of his pocket, “but I got this for you in Turkey on my last visit,” he said as he dropped a silver bracelet with blue stones into my hands. The four of us, my mom, brother, dad and I, stood and took in this one last moment together before he would walk through airport security. We all knew things would be different this time he left. He quickly hugged me goodbye but I knew this goodbye meant something more than it did all the times we said goodbye before, so I hugged him tighter and longer and a lump formed in my throat as he said, “you know, I love you Rona. I love you very much.”

“I love you, too, dad,” I tried to say as the tears streaming down my face betrayed the facade of apathy I tried to construct at his coming and going into and out of my life, but I choked on my words and nothing came out.

…

All eyes on me, on us. My arm through his as we walked down the field on homecoming night. Spending hours on my make up and hair and a small fortune on that dress with an open back and unique neckline. Finally, I had made it. Approval, acceptance, worth. No one would know all that lay underneath the makeup and overpriced dress. Walking off the field, flashes of cameras lighting up the night sky as I looked up at my escort and locked eyes with him before something caught his eye; he turned away and looked at a stranger walking toward us from the crowd,

“hey, isn’t that your dad?”

My heart sank and terror sprung up in my mind, had he come? Here? What is he going to do? Why is he here?

“Yeah, that’s my dad. I didn’t even know he was in the country,” I said under my breath as we walked over to this man.

I could immediately smell the alcohol on him.

“Rona, you look so beautiful. You’ve grown into such a beautiful young woman,” he said softly before turning and limping away. I watched him walk away and at each step he took, I wished it could all be different.

…

“So, uh, it’s been a bit hard for you lately, huh?” he asked nervously.
I clenched my teeth in anger, my whole body becoming stiff, “dad, yeah it’s been hard. You know exactly why it’s been hard.”

I surveyed my friend’s room that I had gotten so used to that year. The year my mom got sick and we lost our house. The year my dad remarried. 

“Well, I’ll try to do what I can to help,” his voice was flat and lifeless.

I hung up the phone.

…

“There’s my girl!” he said with a huge smile on his face. He acted as if he was greeting an old friend from college instead of his daughter. But then, it had been how many years since seeing him last?

We sat at a table together in that small restaurant in Thailand, my missions team leader telling me to call her immediately if I needed anything.

“Dad, I’m so glad I could finally get to see you again. I just want to say that I’m so sorry for…”

I started the speech I had practiced and re-practiced with the Lord. Those years since meeting Him, each day on my knees He would tell me that this day was coming. That I’d be ready for it. That I’m His daughter. That I am whole. That I am strong. That I can love this man with His love.

“I’m sorry for not honoring you these last few years. For not picking up your calls or responding to you. I’m sorry, dad. “

-You prepare a table before me-

“And I want you to know that I met God that semester I studied in Korea.”

-in the presence of my enemies-

“You know, I’m a different person now and all the abuse and pain from when I was a kid, God healed me from it, dad.”

-You anoint my head with oil-

“And I want you to know that I forgive you.”

-my cup overflows-

“I forgive you for all of it. And I want you to live a blessed and happy life.”

-Surely goodness and love will follow me-

“And I want you to know that I love you and always will.”

…

“Rona, are you there? Hello? Rona are you okay?” my brother’s voice, I could tell he was crying now, asked from across the phone.

“yeah, Will, I’m here. I just, I just hope dad knew before he died that I loved him.”

-all the days of my life-

“Rona,” my brother’s voice grew strong and sure again, “Rona, dad knew you loved him. He definitely knew.”

-and I will dwell in the house of the Lord
forever- 

This past year was filled with some of the most beautiful moments I’ve had in my life. Moments of such joy and connection interspersed with days when I would wake up with a heart so heavy from a weight that cannot be squeezed into these symbols called words. When the movement of reality in front of me became hazy and only memories of my dad were clear to me. The bus and subway rides full of reliving those moments with my dad, and also with God. It felt as if this year, Jesus walked next to me side-by-side. I don’t know what grieving and mourning are supposed to look like. But I do know one thing, that Jesus walked with me this year. He was there in the smiles and laughter. He was there in the tears and heaviness that no one could see or understand. And He told me that He knows of the valleys and He knows of the mountains. He has told me that I am no orphan, but will dwell in His Father’s house with Him forever.

It’s crazy to think my dad’s been gone for one year now. I wish only that I could share with him all the beautiful things God is doing in my life. I miss you dad and always will. Thank you for being the best father you knew how to be for me. And thank You, Jesus, for being my Good Shepherd.

On our first day of missions, as I walked up and down aisle after aisle of walls covered with pictures of children who were killed during the reign of the Khmer Rouge at the Genocide Museum in Phnom Penh, grief and sadness were not the only things filling my heart. Something else was stirring inside my spirit. As I looked into the faces of countless children who had their whole lives ahead of them, who never grew into the fullness of life, and as I thought about their dreams, dreams that never came to pass, something besides mourning filled my heart.

 
(many children and adults were held and tortured in this building, now the Genocide Museum. It had previously been a high school before the Khmer Rouge’s reign)

What I felt, more strongly than despair and loss for these beautiful children’s lives, was an overwhelming sense of hope. As I stared into these faces, God made it clear in my heart that the reign of fear, darkness, and death was truly over in Cambodia. That chapter was closed. It is finished. God was saying that our Cambodian Mission Team was stepping into a time, a dispensation, of God’s healing, liberation, redemption, and reign in this land. Those multitudes of eyes staring back at me, on those beautiful faces, each representing a life, a family, a story, and a dream and destiny, those precious lives were not lost in vain. God was saying to me in that place of torture, inhumanity, and death, in that Genocide Museum, that Cambodia would live, that Cambodia would be brought into the glorious freedom of the children of God.

Day 1 of ministry was in the Kampot Province, which is out in the countryside and seriously looks like a beautiful jungle. I was thrilled!

(Coconuts just chopped down via Pastor Dai’s machete. YUM.)

The Kampot Province is also where Pastor Kimeng, our NPWM partner, has a church and does ministry. Pastor John Michael, our team preacher, had prepared a message for the morning revival service, but when we arrived at the site, we were all taken by surprise. Almost everyone at the revival service was under the age of 14. Pastor JM and our team just rolled with it; he switched up his sermon to make it more interesting for a younger audience and we played with the kids.

(each day, we were planning to minister to adults but always found a large group of children waiting for us!)

After the morning services ended, we ate a home-cooked lunch prepared for us by the women of the church.

(SO delicious. they took such good care of us.)

Then, we headed out for house-to-house evangelism. Our team was split up into two groups, and about 5-10 children joined each group. One group went with Pastor Kimeng, and the other group went with Pastor Lim, another NPWM native partner.

As we walked across really long fields with cows and cow dung dotting the landscape,

(Cambodian cows are very stubborn and fierce. I secretly wanted to hug or ride one)

I wondered what was going on with the kid thing.

“Father,” I was asking,
“why were there only kids at the service today?
And why are these kids going with us to evangelize?
Aren’t they going to get in the way?”

But I heard no answer and just kept walking forward. We arrived at our first house, got to know the family, and prayed for them. As we prayed, I looked up and to my surprise, the kids who were with us had their hands outstretched towards this family, their voices raised and crying out to the Father, and their faces full of the love of God for this family of unbelievers.

And something leapt in my heart. We said goodbye and left this family to head to the next house, and I began to notice something as we walked: the children were the ones leading us from house to house.

Our house to house evangelism times were so powerful. There are too many stories to tell here. Physical healings, salvations, and making Christ known to these families who have never heard of this Beautiful Savior. it. was. amazing.

What it looked like was, we would enter a house, say “hello,” then Pastors Sky or JM would say, “Jin, share the Gospel,” or “Susie, share your testimony,” or, “Rona, you’re leading at this house,” and we would just take it away! Each of us got used to having the Gospel in our mouths, communicating the beauty of Christ and Him crucified, and we would get to lead people to Christ. We would pray for any who were sick and see them healed. Then, we’d leave and follow these kids to the next unbelieving household. House after house, life after life, testimony after testimony. It was so powerful.

Something clicked in my Spirit as we walked from house to house, sharing the Gospel and being led by these kids: I felt that God was giving us the honor of ministering in the way that Jesus did.

In Matthew 10:7-8, it says, As you go, preach this message: ‘The Kingdom of heaven is near.’ Heal the sick, raise the dead, cleanse those who have leprosy, drive out demons. Freely you have received, freely give.

Our team realized that what we were doing was very similar to what Jesus’ ministry on earth looked like. Nothing complicated, but simply bringing the power and beauty of the kingdom. And these kids were the most amazing part. They were with us as we shared the Gospel, healed the sick, and manifested the love of God.

(our team and the kids with a family who just came to Christ!)

We found out that Pastor Kimeng, a young minister so full of God’s Spirit and love, manifests the Father’s heart powerfully. And these children attending the revival service and evangelizing with us, they are his disciples. And they are on fire. They are completely in love with Jesus.

(Pastor Kimeng with some of his amazing young disciples, whom we nicknamed, ‘The Mighty Men of Valor’)

We were in the Kampot Province for 3 days, and each day, this same group of kids and youth attended and brought their neighborhood friends and nonbelievers to the services. We found that these kids were often the only believers in their families; they were testifying about Jesus through their lives each day. As we got to know them more, we learned about their dreams for the future; dreams to lead worship, dreams of becoming a pastor, an engineer, a teacher. These youth were so precious and beautiful.

They would lead us to each house for evangelism because they had been going house to house, doing this work, before we ever arrived. God was speaking to me that he is raising up a generation of John the Baptists; children who are burning for Him, who are testifying about Jesus everywhere they go. These children are truly set apart and their faith and love for Jesus is so pure.

(loved getting to watch them play … so much JOY)

(Needless to say, it was extremely hard to leave the Kampot Province. we fell in love with the people in this community.) 

After we left the Kampot Province and held a service for a church full of youth, we headed for a brief visit to one of Pastor Sinai’s orphanages. We planned to only stay for a bit, but as we arrived at the children’s home, God began to do something unexpected!

Pastor Sky had me share my testimony to these 10-17 year old young people, and as soon as I opened my mouth to share, I felt God speak weighty words to me:

Rona, this is such an honor. Getting to share to this group of young people is such a great honor. The world says they’re forgotten and rejected and orphans, but this is the remnant I’ve chosen. As you speak, know who it is you’re speaking to. These are my sons and daughters.

His great love. The greatness and destiny He has placed within these youth. I was given just a small glimpse of it and was overwhelmed with love for them. As I shared my testimony, God reminded me of my senior year, how He said, “even if your father and mother abandon you, I will never leave you,” and I shared it with these kids. I could feel their hearts with me as I shared each word.

This was completely unplanned, but after I finished, Pastor JM felt the Spirit move, so he asked up any young people who identified with my story and wanted to forgive someone who had hurt them, to come up. Many came up for physical healing and a handful came up to forgive.

One girl, about 11 years old, came up beside me and I put my arm around her. She said she wanted to forgive her mother. Each youth said aloud who they wanted to forgive. Pastor JM led them through prayers to forgive and let go of the pain and anger they were holding onto in their hearts, and as these kids were letting go of this unforgiveness, as they were getting a greater revelation of the love and grace of God through this powerful confession, I began to weep.

I was overwhelmed with God’s love for them. Just like the nation of Cambodia, they had such horror and pain in their past, but God was putting an end to it and I could sense the greatness, the power in these young people, once orphans but now adopted as His Sons.

As I wept, I looked down at the girl who wanted to forgive her mom, and she just stared up at me. You see, at all of our services, we found that Cambodians don’t really show outward emotion. They would experience complete physical healing, but only barely smile about it. Someone said they felt the Holy Spirit’s electricity all over their body, but they were completely chill. Not many people cried or shook or showed outward signs, but we knew as we talked to them that they were being deeply touched by God’s Spirit.

Soon, however, as I was holding and praying with this girl, I began to feel my arm shaking. I looked down and saw her begin to weep. I knew in this moment that all the pain, all the hurt, all the bad memories she tried to forget, it was all coming out and God was bringing real healing to her heart.

Pastor JM said that as we released tears on behalf of these youth, it caused them to feel a deeper love from God and it allowed them to finally grieve and feel again after being numb for so long. That unexpected ministry time at the orphanage was one of my favorite moments on this trip. So beautiful. Those youth who chose to forgive had such brightness and joy on their faces. You could tangibly see them walking in greater freedom afterward.

 
(i think she’s so beautiful.)

The next morning, our team attended Pastor Sinai’s church in Phnom Penh. I shared my testimony and Pastor JM preached a message on forgiveness, and it was the first time that our audience wasn’t mostly kids. Little did I know though until after service that the church is the bottom floor of Pastor Sinai’s children’s home, and that many of the orphans were at the service as well!

As I left the sanctuary, four 14-15 year old girls approached me and said,
“We have the same story as you. But God brought us here and we forgave our parents, too, like you.” 

I walked up to the top floor of this building with these beautiful young women. Light was pouring in through the windows on all sides, and I asked one of them,

“so what is your story?” 

And, let’s just call her Kelly, she began to tell me the story of her mom and dad. Their fighting, her mom’s death, her dad’s alcoholism and abuse, living with her grandma and finally coming to this home. And then she began to weep. She buried her head in her hands and I could feel the pain that she could no longer express in words that remained in her heart. I put my arm around her and whispered into her ear words I could hear the Father saying.

Kelly, you are loved.
You’re not alone anymore.
You’re not alone and you’ll never be alone.
The Father will never leave you, and He is a good Father.
You’re in His family now, a big family, my family.
And nothing can ever take that away.

The same words of hope and truth and adoption that were spoken over me 4 years ago when God encountered me, the same words that I speak over my college disciples at SNU, the same words we say to one another in this city of Seoul, are the same words of truth for these orphans in Cambodia.

I don’t think I’ll ever forget this moment with her. Getting to speak life and release sonship over this young woman was one of the greatest things I think I’ll ever do. It’s something so beautiful, so worth giving my life for. Revealing His Love, that they might see Him and know Him. At the end of the day, that’s what it’s all about.

After ministering to Kelly, one by one these girls began to tell me their dreams.

“I’m going to be a flight attendant so I can see the world,”
“I’m going to be a manager of music bands because I love music!”
“I’m going to be a rich business-woman!”

On and on my heart became full with the tangible hope in their voices and with the bigness of their dreams. They weren’t just dreams floating in the air, these girls knew. They just knew they were meant for big things. They knew they were sons of God and that their dreams would come to pass.

 
(striking a pose with our girls ^^)

In Romans 8:19-21, it says, 

creation (all of it) waits in eager expectation for the sons of God to be revealed. For the creation was subjected to frustration, not by its own choice, but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be liberated from its bondage to decay and brought into the glorious freedom of the children of God.

You see, that’s what this trip and what being a mighty warrior in this army is all about. It’s about walking in the fullness of who we are as SONS and releasing it in greater measure to the people we encounter. We walk in such healing, such freedom, such joy, such redemption, such intimacy, and we get to bring all of creation, all of it, into the glorious freedom that’s been given to us.

Our missions team saw God heal the sick, we saw salvations being released, we saw people being touched and filled by the Spirit of God. It was all glorious. But these children, the ones we met in the Kampot Province, the youth we ministered to in the orphanage, the ones we got to know at this church service, they are also the sons of God. He uses the weak to lead the strong, and the foolish things of the world to shame the wise.

As I looked into the faces of these young women who had been healed and delivered from their past life of pain and abuse, now with such hope and powerful calls on their lives, as our team evangelized house to house with a mighty army of children leading the way, as we administered Healing and Deliverance to a group of orphans abandoned by their parents, I also saw the faces of those countless children whose pictures still hang on the walls of the Genocide Museum we visited on our first day in Phnom Penh.

The Lord is calling these children to take back all that the enemy tried to destroy and kill. I felt God saying that it’s His time. It’s time for the reign of Jesus. Those lives were not lost in vain. Those dreams were not lost in vain. He is a father to the fatherless and He is raising up a generation of young people, who were once the most vulnerable and the most oppressed, to lead this nation into the glorious freedom of the children of God.

I’m so thankful that New Philly and all of my supporters near and far gave me the honor of serving and loving these beautiful people of Cambodia. Our missions team grew to love and honor Pastor Kimeng, Pastor Lim, Pastor Sinai, and these beautiful young people in the short week we had with them. They will continue to be in our hearts and prayers. Thank you! 

 

Just met with three amazing students who are part of the official Christian Fellowship here at SNU. They went out of their way to help and be a blessing to Emmaus and want to see us thrive and grow here. So much love and zeal in these students to see Jesus exalted on this campus. Our hearts are fully united in our desire to see revival, God!

We ended a very productive meeting by praying together for SNU. Oh man. So good. You really love this campus, Abba!

Love this woman!!!

Ahahahaa she’s one of my heroes!!!