Reflection on Godspell

I recently did some choreography for Grace International School’s production of Godspell.  It runs this week and I couldn’t be more proud of the students or excited for the community to see this show.

There’s this scene at the end of Godspell: Judas has left to betray Jesus, the disciples and Jesus have finished having their Passover meal.  Judas then sings this beautiful lament while each disciple has a moment with Jesus to say goodbye.

This may very well be my favorite scene in the show (even though my choreography is pretty boss and the students are killing it!).  It’s the calm before the storm.  I believe I find it so moving because of the fun, personal nature of the show.  Jesus has brought each of these people to himself – they’ve grown together, they’ve had fun, they’ve fought, they’ve learned, they’ve journeyed together to this point.  While the disciples don’t know or fully understand what is about to happen, they have a chance to say goodbye.  In their moment each disciple does their unique thing with Jesus … a bit of choreo from their song, a sign only they did with Jesus … whatever it is, it’s theirs.

In reading the gospels, I think it’s easy to forget how approachable Jesus is.  I know that when I read the gospels he seems distant and not necessarily very personal.  His teachings maybe seem lofty, his standards maybe unattainable.  It’s easy then to become like the Pharisees Jesus was constantly chastising – to get wrapped up in doing the right things, without the right attitude. Without seeking God in everything.

This is part of why I have enjoyed going to Godspell practices.  Parables and teachings are acted out in fun, different ways.  Hearing it day after day, practice after practice after practice … just soaking in the words of Jesus. It becomes easier to see yourself as one of the disciples. You have fun alongside the disciples and Jesus; you feel Jesus’ frustration. You, like the disciples, don’t want to say goodbye.  The weight of what Jesus has done falls fresh again.

I personally couldn’t think of a better way to prepare for Easter then helping out with this musical. It's been such a blessing.

PS – Thanks mom and dad for paying for dance classes for all those years, it definitely paid off to put those skills to work for this production.  Also thanks to all who made MASH musicals possible when I was in high school, especially Mr. Dundore, Shoe, and Miss Catherine – not sure I would have helped out with this production if you hadn’t been such an inspiration/encouragement. 

Lesson in Humility

I moved into the youth pastor’s house in February … one of the perks of filling in while he’s on furlough. One evening, shortly after I moved in, I decided that I needed to relax and wind down a bit more before going to bed.  I decided to enjoy a nice warm bath and episode of Gilmore Girls. It was luxurious and relaxing.  All ready to crawl into my comfy bed in cool room for a restful sleep, I was stopped by a menacing opponent … the bathroom door.

When I had shut the bathroom door to take my shower the lock jammed.  The door opens inward and locks from the inside and the doorknob would turn, but the locking mechanism wouldn’t budge. 

Now a couple months ago the youth pastor shared how he got stuck in his kids’ room one night and was finally able to break out using random stuff his son gave him.  I started searching the bathroom … was there something I could use to move the locking mechanism?  Was there something I could use to remove the hinges? Maybe, but no matter what I tried I couldn’t get out.  There’s a decent-sized window above the bathtub that I tried to see if I could climb out, but with being on the second floor, it didn’t seem like an option.  I could slip my fingers under the door and pull it towards me, but I didn’t have enough leverage (or strength) to break the door or lock.

I was stuck.

Extra towels were kept in this bathroom, so I knew I would be able to make a ‘bed’ for myself.   A light was still on and the light switch on the outside – that was troublesome until I was able to rig a washcloth over it.  But the maebaan (housekeeper) wasn’t due to come in the following morning.  I didn’t have my phone; I did have my computer – but no charger.  It was a little after midnight by this point so I did the only thing I could … I emailed a few people who might be able to help and settled in for the night.

I slept surprisingly well, for the most part, and sure enough around 8am one of the friends I emailed called out to me … all the doors were locked.  I had been told that it’s possible to break in through one of the living room windows, but haven’t had to and my friend could figure it out.  Thankfully one of the kitchen windows was unlocked, so that’s how my friend got into the house.  There wasn’t much that could be done from the outside, other than slam the door open.  I was surprised … there was no damage done to the door as the lock shattered.

Shattered lock

In reassuring the others I contacted that I was safely out, I was surprised by their stories of getting stuck in rooms due to faulty doorknobs.  In fact, my supervisor was surprised to hear that this hadn’t happened to me yet.  Apparently it’s one of those rites of passage of living here.

This whole experience ending up being a good story for the middle school discipleship class I’ve been leading.

I’ve been taking them through Richard Foster’s Celebration of Disciplines and that week we were discussing the spiritual discipline of service.  In his book, Foster lists 7 different types of service – one of which is the service of being served.

I told the students that of all the different types, this one is the hardest for me because I am a strong, independent woman who prefers serving others than being served.  It’s sometimes hard for me to ask for help and in some cases I’d rather figure out a way to do it on my own or do without.

I shared the story of getting stuck in the bathroom.  Part of me was so embarrassed to ask for help because who gets stuck in a bathroom like that?!? (Apparently more than I realized) At the same time I realized that once I knew I was getting out on my own that I would have to humble myself to ask someone to come out and break me out.  I slept well because I trusted that someone would eventually come – I didn’t panic or worry about how long I’d be stuck.  I knew that once I asked, one of my friends would be there as soon as possible.

Don’t you just love how God will knock you down, just to remind you that you can never be the strong independent woman you want to be or to remind you that it is a service to submit yourself so someone can serve (and bless) you?

Well this happened ...

I'm usually touched when people either in the states or here tell me to stay safe, to drive carefully, that they've prayed for my safety on the roads, etc. (Notice I said usually ... sometimes my reaction is more of an eye roll than gratitude that someone cares about my well-being) I'm not a reckless motorcyclist, I know and understand road rules, I wear a helmet and in almost 2 years of doing this I haven't been in an accident.

My Chiang Mai tattoo as it was healing

I have gotten a "Chiang Mai tattoo" (a burned calf from a hot motorcycle exhaust pipe), but that's nothing compared to the accidents you hear about here.

But right before my family arrived, I was in a small motorcycle accident. I wiped out. I believe I hit an uneven patch on this road that’s under construction, so there’s a lot of loose gravel on the road.  Hitting the uneven patch upset my balance and the gravel made it difficult for me to regain control – so I went down.  I had already been driving on part of the shoulder, so I was thankfully out of traffic’s way.

As the dust settled I was ready to hop on my bike to go to the hospital I passed not even a kilometer away and my mind racing through people I could call (if needed).  My elbow was pretty torn up and I had other scrapes on my hands, legs and feet.  Nothing deep, but I was covered in dust.

Before I was able to get to my bike, a car stopped and a man poured water over some of my scrapes to wash the dirt away.  Another man came running out of his shop.  This second man ended up taking me into his shop to further try and clean my wounds.  He made a valiant effort to clean the worst ones, but decided to take me to the hospital.  By this point the shock and adrenaline is wearing off and my pain levels ramping up. 

He loaded me into his truck and off we went to the hospital.  He dropped me off at the emergency room door.  By the time he parked and came in, I whimpering (ok, so maybe I was flat out crying) on a hospital bed as a nurse cleaned my wounds.  A doctor checked my wounds, ensured that I hadn’t hit my head (I hadn’t and I was wearing my helmet), and ordered a tetanus shot for me because I couldn’t remember that last time I had one. Then a friend of mine arrived just in time to distract me from the shot, pick up pain and antibiotic medication, and help me pay – I was still in so much pain!

One day post accident, all wrapped up in gauze

Talk about painful dressing changing!

I got back on my motorcycle pretty quickly though, as in as soon as we got back to the shop.  I think I wasn't as shaken up because I just wiped out.  If I had hit someone or someone had hit me I think it would have been a whole lot harder for me to drive away on my bike at that point.

So for those who have ever prayed for my safety here (especially on my motorcycle), it hasn't been in vain.  I've been in only one small accident that could have easily been a lot worse.  God also provided a compassionate shopkeeper, friends, and community to look after my abrasions.  I had to have the dressing changed on my elbow a couple times before I could let it air out.  Man, that was painful! But a nurse in the neighborhood and my neighbors looked after it, and you wouldn't know by looking at my arm that I had such a bad scrap ... it healed that well. 

The Problem with TEDxCNX

At the end of January I had the privilege of attending an independently organized TEDx event.  TEDx events embody the spirit of official TED events but is organized by volunteers in the community.  It’s still a professional and impressive event to attend.

TED talks are known for presenting innovative ideas and encouraging positive change.  To that respect, TEDxCNX did not disappoint.  But as the day went on, I began to realize that each speaker was basically preaching to the choir.  1000 some people – all interested in seeing Chiang Mai become a cleaner city, a safer city, a better educated city.  Explanation for Thailand’s problems and the “innovative” ideas for change were welcomed with applause.  Of the 22 speakers I heard, 6 (if not more) had something to do with education in Thailand.

How was it that with the theme of “Dare to …” 6 people spoke on the same subject and presented similar ideas?

Does this event actually inspire change?

It seems to me that your average Thai person needed to be in the room.  The average Thai person seemed to be excluded from the event first by cost, second by marketing.  I wonder how the audience would respond if it was full of average Thai people.  Would they cheer as we cheered? Would they be inspired to make a difference?  I don’t know.

I don’t mean this to be a harsh criticism, as I quite enjoyed the day.  But if the majority of those present is of a similar mind and yet change happens so slowly, I wonder if the right audience is being reached and engaged.

A Buddhist Funeral

My brother and I had hoped to go climbing with some friends of mine while he was here.   I got to know this family through going to the Creative Center this fall as they help run it.  We had talked about going on Sunday afternoon (January 3) or Monday afternoon.  When we met up at church Sunday morning they apologized because they couldn’t do it.

They had gotten a call from one of the Thai students who comes to Creative Center events on Saturday. His father had committed suicide and there were a number of tasks he was expected to complete but needed support/help to do so.  My friends ended up spending the day with him.  He had to go to the shooting range to watch the CCTV recording of his father’s suicide.  He had to see the site it happened. He had to identify his father’s body at the morgue.

I was heartbroken for my Thai friend. His father wasn’t the best dad and he had really struggled in his relationship with his dad. Since becoming a Christian, it’s been something he’s prayed a lot about and there were maybe some small signs of hope as we prayed a couple times in December for him and his dad. 

Now, this Thai friend of mine is the only Christian in his family – his family is Buddhist and expected him to show proper honor and respect for his father.  Basically this meant that his family expected him to participate in the various funeral rites as a Buddhist monk. (It is fairly common for males to dawn the saffron robes for a time, either so they receive an education, ‘escape’ poverty, make extra merit for a little while, participate in special events, etc.) As a Christian he could not justify participating in the funeral in this way.

This was the first time he had to defend his new faith in front of his whole family. Some of them didn’t take it so well and struggled to understand why he wouldn’t show this kind of honor or respect to his father.  But as the days wore on and both Thai and foreign Christians showed up to support our friend, I strongly believe hearts were softened. 

I myself only went to two days as my family was still in town the first few days.

In the days leading up to the cremation, family and friends gather at a wat (temple) in the evening to show their respects as monks chant and maybe moral teachings are recited.  I was told the monks chant in an old religious Thai language that few people actually understand.  As a result, it is not unusual for people to be milling around or talking softly while the monks chant.

This was the case the night I went.  Monks were chanting, a guy recited some wisdoms, but those present weren’t always fully engaged in what was happening.

The following afternoon I attended the cremation procession and ceremony.  The monks led the coffin and then us a few blocks away to the crematorium.  We sat in a sala (an open pavilion) while final chants were recited and final respects given.  Family members (and maybe close friends) placed saffron robes in front of the coffin, which the monks received as if given by the deceased (another way to make merit).  Just before the coffin was moved to the crematorium building, we were each given a fake flower to present in front of the coffin. These were then taken and put in the furnace.

The coffin was moved from in front of the sala to in front of the crematorium.  The flowers decorating the cart and coffin were placed around the incinerator and on the steps leading up to it.  Soon the coffin was removed from the cart, carried up the steps, and set in front of the incinerator.  The family gathered around the coffin as the lid was removed and final respects paid.  Finally the coffin was slid into the incinerator, a door closed, and the fire started.  Most of the family left at this point.  The rest hung around for a few minutes before making their way back to their cars.

I was thankful for the experience, but heartbroken over the circumstance.  All the Buddhist pageantry and merit making for nothing.  Buddhist funerals are not sad affairs as death is seen as part of the never ending cycle of life until nirvana.  But the reality of the situation was written on my friend’s face.  He made a stand for the Truth while also trying to honor his father and family.  I’m glad I was able to support his stance by attending.  I truly believe God was at work during the week as I heard a few stories of different conversations had between the Christians and Buddhists. Our presence was noticed and I believe seeds were planted.

Family for Christmas!

I got a pretty good Christmas present this year … my family came to Chiang Mai for Christmas and New Years!!  After spending a significant amount of time here, it was great to finally have them come visit. To see my city firsthand, to meet my co-workers and friends, to finally begin to understand the things I’ve been telling them for months.

It was a short 2 weeks, but we kept busy visiting almost every tourist attraction in the area. We went to an elephant camp, the “sticky falls”, Wat Doi Suthep, San Kampaeng Hot Springs, Night Bazaar, Flight of the Gibbon, Royal Flora Ratachapruek Gardens, the cultural center, Kad Luang, Wiang Kum Kam, Walking Street, moo-ga-ta … we did all this and more.

While it was fun to be a tourist in my own city, it did take a lot out of me.  So many people flock to Chiang Mai during New Years for the cool weather, meaning traffic around the city is much crazier (slower) than usual.  Of course, I was the one driving my family around to all these locations in a beast of a vehicle – talk about draining!

But it was good.  I loved being able to hang out and joke with my brother.  The dork brought a string of lights that he uses camping so that we could “rave.”

We did have to take an unexpected trip to the hospital for him.  Poor Nate. This was the first time since his transplant surgery that he had to spend a night in the hospital.  Because he is on so many anti-rejection and other medications he has a weak immune system.  As a result, dinner from the market one night didn’t sit too well with him.  After spending part of the night and most of a morning in the bathroom, and not keeping anything down, it was time to take him to the hospital.

Dehydration puts a lot of strain on the kidneys, and with his one kidney being a transplant, we had to make sure that he was hydrated and more stable.  He received excellent care at the newest hospital in town and was released after about 24 hours … just in time to attend the afternoon church service.

The hospital visit hardly put a damper on our time together and I am so glad that they were able to visit at this time.  The whole thing worked out so well … I was house sitting for a family so there was more space and better/more Christmas decorations than my house.  They allowed me to use their car as well.

Days after my family left, the people I was house sitting for return, so I returned to my house for a few weeks before completely moving out to house sit for the youth pastor.  Since I’m filling in for him this spring while he’s on furlough, he asked if it would be financially helpful for me to live in his house (the church provides a stipend to cover rent and utilities).  Since I don’t know what I’m doing after May, it made more financial sense for me to give up the house I’ve been renting the past 2 years to house sit. But more on what’s been happening in following posts …