Thoughts from the Killing Fields of Cambodia

The Difficult Doctrine of the Love of God

"The streets don't give a damn, filled with so much pollution. Trapped inside the matrix, forced to play our hand, we're filled with so much hatred, the kids don't stand a chance."

I'm from America. Middle class America. I've grown up in a loving home, have been blessed with people who cared for and protected me, and have always had my needs met. Sure I have experienced pain and hurt, just as we all have had our trials and tribulations to endure. But I have never had to endure excruciating pain, abuse, or oppression. My psyche has never had to encounter the blistering assault of sheer torment or tragedy. Besides that, I'm pretty secure in knowing that God loves my children, my family, and me. My framework of theology is sturdy in the understanding that God not only loves my family, and me but He loves the whole world. He loves all people. Go into the average church in America and this is a common understanding. God is love. In fact, we are overtly sentimental in our understanding of God's love. We sing about how much he loves us. In many of our songs, if the name God or Jesus wasn't mentioned, the songs could easily pass as ballads between romantic lovers. My point is that the love of God is an easy doctrine for us. So you can understand why it was shock to my system when I walked the concentration prison of Cambodia and the killing fields where mass genocides took place in the 1970s. First, a little background. In the 1970, a dictator named Pol Pot took over Cambodia. During his time in power he imposed agrarian socialism, forcing urban dwellers to relocate to the countryside to work in collective farms and forced labor projects. The combined effects of forced labor, malnutrition, poor medical care, and executions resulted in the deaths of approximately 21 percent of the Cambodian population. One of the more grim mass executions took place on what it now the genocide museum, or “Killing Fields of Cambodia.”

As I began to walk around the filling fields, at first there was a sense of normalcy. There was lush green grass, tall flourishing mangos trees, and a worn path surrounded by singing birds. How could this be a place where thousand of people, men women and children were brutally murdered? It had the appeal of a place where one could ride a bike along the worn path or take a restful walk. Nothing seemed to show the evidence of one of the worst genocides in the history of mankind.  But as I walked further, the evidence began to emerge. It soon became clear that I was beholding a massive crime scene. Along the land, buttressed by a small lake, were massive crevices in the ground. Every twelve feet or so the land had one crater after another. These crevices were mass gravesites, locations where hundreds of people were executed and buried. As I continued to walk the land, a light rain began to fall. The ground became more and more moist. And that’s when I know longer needed to imagine what happened in those fields. Human bones began to surface above ground. Shreds of clothes could be seen potruding from the mass graves. Thirty years later, harrowing signs of sheer evil and what men are culpable of doing when severed from the Creator.  

A couple of days earlier, our missions team had the opportunity to talk with a Buddhist monk, the leader of the monks on the grounds of an exuberant Buddhist temple. During our conversation with him, I objected to his belief that God cannot be known. I began to point to both the transcendence and immanence of God. I was thinking of every shred of theology I had ever studied in order to counter his objections. And that's when he asked me, "Where is this God? Where is He? Where can I find him?" At the time, I gave him what I believed to be a sufficient, logical, and biblical answer. But as I now walked his land, the land of his fathers, the land where his people were massacred, his question bore heavy on my heart. As I saw the human bones protruding out of the ground and viewed what appeared to be a little girls dress, shredded and lying above the mass grave, I knew that the Buddhist monk's question was legitimate. Not justified, but legitimate. "Where is this God? Where is He?" More specifically, "Where was this God during the genocide in Cambodia?"

And that's what brings me to the doctrine of the love of God. It is a hard doctrine.  DA Carson rightly asks, “Is the love of God such an obvious doctrine?” Surely, I am not questioning the reality of the love of God. I am, however, offering that our sentimentalized view of the love of God will not be sufficient to answer the question, “Where is this God?”  In the midst of unspeakable tragedies and evil, a sentimental understanding of the love of God is dreadfully insufficient. We must move beyond a sentimental view of the love of God and think through the hard questions. The good news is that even after we think through some fundamental questions in the midst of some complex scriptures, we will come back to the simplicity of the love of God as portrayed by John 3:16. “For God so loved the world that he gave His Son…….” Oh the beauty of that simple text! It’s not that God so loved the world in its “bigness” but He so loved the world in its “badness.” Whenever John talks about the “world” he’s not talking about the bigness of the world but the badness of the world. The world is “the moral order in which men have rebelled against God.” God looks at this rebellion and still loves the rebel! So he sends his Son to the “badness of the world.” His love is seen in that He send His son---not to so many people----but to such wicked people.

In my finite mind I will never be able to give an adequate explanation for the killing fields of Cambodia or any other genocide committed throughout history. I can struggle through these questions by considering the love of God in the context of His sovereignty, his domain over evil, His ultimate justice, and the fallen nature of man. Nevertheless, I can conclude that God looks at this fallen, tragic world and He loves the people in it. Wicked people. Sinful people. People who are hurting one another. Such a remarkable, gracious truth! But still difficult to understand. 

More Thoughts from Cambodia..........

A LESSON IN TRUE JOY AND CONTENTMENT

It was difficult to choose which picture to use for this lesson because we have so many pictures of the people in the remote villages of Cambodia smiling and laughing. Don't misunderstand----the needs in those villages are immense and overwhelming. There is much pain in the people---both physical and emotional---because of the debilitating consequences of poverty. The average Cambodian worker in these villages makes about two dollars per day of work. While we were there, many of the families were suffering from a shortage of rain and thus a failed rice harvest. I noticed that when we fed each village a feast by their standards of chicken, beef, and rice, silence enveloped the tables. Few people spoke because everyone was busy eating. Someone whispered to me, "We are not used to eating this good." So these humble people have great needs. And yet, there was a consistent theme of joyfulness among them. Even in the midst of great pain and lack, they were genuinely happy people. Their smiles were sincere and their laughter was contagious. How is that possible? How is it possible to be in need but be joyful at the same time? How is it possible to be in tribulation and still dance? Yes, I know the answers to these questions are found in the Scriptures. I've read them many times and preached them to others. I intellectually have assented to the biblical fact that a Christian doesn't always need to be jocular and jovial in order to have true joy. And yet, I had to travel to the jungles of Cambodia to find this kind of deep seated joy expressed in such a dramatic way. Their joy convicted and challenged both my propensity to allow circumstances to dictate my level of joy and my bent to act as if everything is alright even when it is not. There is something lovely and pure about an authentic joy that is independent of both worldly attachments and pretension. This is the joy we found in the villages of Cambodia.

Thoughts from Cambodia...........

A LESSON IN FADING TO THE BACKGROUND

Pastor Choon has worked his whole adult life as a pastor in the remote villages of Svay Rieng, Cambodia. In my time observing Pastor Choon, it became very evident that humility and servanthood were the dominating traits of this meek man. Whether it was making sure that everyone else was served before he sat down to eat or whether it was his gentle way in which he ministered to others, Pastor Choon taught me a lesson without ever giving a sermon. The lesson is simple, but often overlooked: a true leader knows when to fade into the background. Now, in a way, that lesson seems like an oxymoron. Doesn't a true leader rise to he top, take the lead, and shine for the glory of God? Surely these, too, are some of the characteristics of a leader. But these are not the dominate traits of a Christian leader. In order for Christ to be seen in our lives, we must know when to fade to the background. We must know how to serve instead of merely being served. Humility is the dominate trait of the Christian leader. We must decrease so that Christ can be seen in all his increase. In many ways, Pastor Choon is the antithesis of the American success story. He doesn't pastor a big church. He doesn't cling to possessions or goods. I would have never known who he was if not for traveling across the earth to a remote village along the Vietnam border. After a long day of ministry in that land, we went to Pastor Choon's house. We were startled to find that this man and his family lived in the back of a storefront. We had to literally step over the items of the store in order to get to his house. Even where he made his abode was in the background. But maybe thats where each one of us should make our abode---in the background. Like David, we can say "I will abide in the shadow of the Almighty." A good leader knows when to stand out, but he also knows when to make his retreat to the shadows.