Christmas 2000

Dear Friends,

Feel in the air a wind, a wind!
More than a breeze
That blows my hair,
This is a gust of holy breath
Blowing away the clouds of death.

A sultry breeze was all the relief the Andaman Sea had to offer from the scorching sun. But there was more than heat in the air, there was also excitement that comes from a bold new venture for God. After a year of incubation, a full-blown mission to the Sea Gypsies was being born on Lanta Island. Even more thrilling, the mission was a response to the intervention of the Holy Spirit. But the wind of the Spirit blows where God wills. A year and a half ago a group of Thai Christians from the southern Thai city of Trang were having a spiritual life retreat on Lanta Island, and the spirit said to "spread out two by two and find a ministry." Little did anyone suspect what would come of this exercise. By nightfall the first Lanta island Sea Gypsies were hearing the gospel. Within weeks their relatives were becoming believers and witnessing miracles of healing and divine help. This year land was dedicated for a Christian center on Lanta island. And last month the Church of Christ’s district coordinator for Trang committed himself to becoming the first Thai missionary to the Sea Gypsies. He has given up his paying job to live by faith and plant Sea Gypsy churches.

See in the sky a star, a star!
Wonder aloft
That seems to fly
From some remote celestial room,
Piercing my heart’s thick shades of gloom.

Far from the city lights the stars shine brighter. They were brilliant on the night of the November full moon two weeks ago, in the village of Ban Soam (the "village of oranges"). The spiritual grandmother of many of the young Christians had died, and there were three nights of memorial services before her funeral. Her death was still another blow to the young people. Of this Buu knew little. It was Buu’s first night in Ban Soam, and his first glimpse at the congregation he had felt God might be inviting him to lead. For two years the young people of the church had been praying for a pastor to come to turn the lights back on in the parish house, to restore the vigor and fun of being a Christian. For two years the elders had been divided and unwilling to take the risk. Still, they had finally invited Buu to come and get acquainted. Something wonderful was taking place on that star-bright night. It was as if Buu had been born there. Though he is only 22, he was being received as an elder. And though he was called Acharn ("professor"), he was treated like a brother by all the young people in the church. His trial sermon was thrilling to behold, people spilling out of the packed house onto the yard and squatting under the windows to hear. A week later the kids’ prayers were answered. The congregation, which had been split for years over calling a pastor, voted 94 to 2 to invite Buu to come back to share their oranges, sticky rice and spicy pork. He will go, of course. Before he had spent the first night under the stars in the village of oranges God had told him to say, "Yes."

Hear in the night a song, a song!
Sung to my soul.
Subdue my fright,
Angel Divine. I hear you sing,
"Glory to God! The Christ is King."

They die. What the ethnic Christians of Burma do most is die. Burma is a tragic and terrible place to try to live these last fifty years. And the specter of violence also hangs over the tribal Christians on the Thai side of the river. This year two of the seniors graduating from the Bangkok Institute of Theology are Lahu fellows. Their heritage is in Burma. Josiah escaped from there, eluding slaughters that took all his family but him. He wants to go back, but first he has another call to answer. He has been invited to teach at the Lahu Bible Center in Chiang Mai. But what about Adul? Where will he serve God? He is an exile from his own clan. "My village," he told his classmates, "has spilled out of hell. They are all Christians! But there is not a person left alive there who is not addicted to drugs. Every young person is a dealer. They sell in order to buy. If they fall behind in their payments to the ‘godfather’ they are taken out into the forest and tortured." Some will never walk again. Many simply vanish. "All the men save up for machineguns [and other military hardware], getting ready for the battle to come." Adul choked as he tried to tell about his visit to his family. They warned him to get out of there and never try to come back. "If I go back I will be murdered. They will not allow anyone to preach there" to undermine the drug culture. And everywhere there is the pall of random evil. "You can never guess," Adul whispered, "when the ‘influence’ of the drugs will overwhelm someone you meet on the path and he will stab you. My home village is straight out of hell." Neither of the two seminarians can go back home yet. Death still bars the way. However, on the last Sunday morning in October Adul and Josiah joined other Lahu men to sing of the sovereignty of Jesus. They may be of a people who are haunted by death, but they are of a larger tribe that knows the hymns of heaven.

Christmas greetings to all of you,

Kenneth Dobson

The 2000 Mission Yearbook for Prayer & Study, p. 158