"Every time we complain we advertise our sin of entitlement."- Patricia Dewit

Every missions trip should include a slap in the face that brings you back down to earth and gives you a glimpse into how blessed you are, and how much God has provided for you.

On Monday July 16, the Tattered Tiaras team and myself experienced that sudden awakening to reality.  We visited a house full of North Vietnamese refugees, from the Mong hill tribe. We arrived at the house, and saw a small house tucked away at the end of a long driveway. There were little children outside playing. It seemed like a relatively normal place. But one could not know the stories of pain and unendurable suffering that lay inside the hearts of the people residing there.

(It's possible that I may have gotten my numbers wrong, and if so i will correct them upon learning more, but I believe there are 9 children in the house, and between 6-8 adults, mostly women.)

We had picked up some groceries for the people there, and proceeded inside to greet the people there. Immediately upon entering the house, I looked to my right and there was a man lying on the floor, eyes open, staring blankly at the ceiling. A little shaken, I proceeded upstairs to sit with the women of the house and share a little about each other. The members of the team handed over the groceries, and we shared our names and where we come from. All the while the little children are poking around curiously at the bags of groceries.

One mother began to share her story of how she came to be in Thailand.

This is her story.

Upon becoming a believer of Jesus Christ, the Vietnamese government, a communist government,  began cracking down hard on the followers of the Christian faith. They began threatening the people, and setting traps for them. they raided their church gathering with a pesticide that induced unconsciousness. They dug a pit outside the building where they gathered, and planted sharpened stakes at the bottom, in the hopes that when they exited the building, they would fall to their deaths. They attempted to force the believers to recant their faith by beating them, forcing them to drink animal blood, threatening imprisonment, and even threatening death. Her husband was arrested once, and released, told to never believe in Jesus again. He received warning that the police were coming to get him again, and so he fled into the jungle behind his house. when the coast was clear he came and collected his family, and fled Vietnam into the neighboring country of Laos. However, the Vietnamese police pursued them all the way into Laos and they were encountering trouble from the local police, due to the fact that Laos is also a communist country. Therefore, they were forced to flee into Thailand. it was here that her husband was arrested and thrown into immigration prison. He has no hope of getting out until the vietnamese government recognizes him as vietnamese, or the Thai government grants him access, both of which are extremely unlikely. it costs 25,000 baht, or around 850 dollars to bail him out. However, even if he is bailed out, he could be tossed back in the day after. These refugees live in constant fear, when their supposed crime is believing in the God of the bible.

(We heard two stories, and it is possible some of the details have been crossed over, but they were both from the Mong hill tribe, and so both endured similar persecution. However, if I receive more clarification, I shall make the corrections.)

There was a guitar sitting in the corner, and I tuned it up and worshipped in a circle of people made up of those who have seen little to no persecution, and those who have seen the depths of human depravity. Singing "Follow You" by Leeland in that group was something I will never forget. Although we speak different languages, God speaks through music in a unique way.

I discovered that the man lying on the floor downstairs was a pastor, who was similarly persecuted, and forced into a hard labor camp. the hard labor took an extreme toll on his body. His kidneys are failing, and so he lies in agony on a daily basis.

As we sat with him, I couldn't help but think hard and deep about my brother, who is a doctor, and what he could do for these people. to see this man suffering so much after all he has endured, is something that I am quite confident would stir you, my brother, to tears. You are often on my mind as I wander the streets of Bangkok, seeing medical need all around me, and feeling helpless to do anything. You, however, have pursued a narrow path that enables you to do something. You weigh heavily on my mind these days.

Upon talking to him, we discovered that his father was the first Christian in his village, a fact that this pastor is quite proud of. He asked us to pray for him, and so we all bent the knee and approached the throne of grace, asking for this mans deliverance. there was not a dry eye in the place as God's presence filled that room. I sang over him with no shame or trepidation. God has given me a boldness here in Thailand that I haven't experienced before.

The impact of this day is one that will not be forgotten. To meet such heroes of the faith, people who have fought the good fight and kept the faith, is not something one simply forgets. There are people here in Thailand who are fighting for the release of the man who sits in prison, appealing to U.S. senators. I will hopefully returning to visit these refugees before I leave, as they want me to teach them some guitar.

I am hard put to truly put into words all of the thoughts and feelings that raced through my heart as I sat with these people.

Looking at my wife, and realizing how much I take her for granted was a prevalent thought as I listened the her story of her husband.

Looking at my life, and realizing how pitiful my own "problems" are.

Hearing these women sing "great is thy faithfulness", and recognizing their sacrifice of worship to be so much sweeter in the ears of God than even the loudest band at the biggest conference with the biggest crowd.

but perhaps most of all, hearing Pat's thought from the first time she walked away from that refugee house.

"Every time we complain we advertise our sin of entitlement."- Patricia Dewit