Empty Boats

Every time I come back to the border of Thailand and Myanmar, I’m struck by something different.  I still remember that day in 2014 when I visited Thailand for the first time and was brought down to the border and introduced to No Man’s Land - a place that is not Myanmar, a place that is not Thailand.  I still remember looking out on this small riverbed with clapboard huts made of cardboard, sheet metal, mud and other scraps.  I remember seeing plastic grocery bags stretched out over scarce vegetation, filling in the holes of this organic roof, trying to create protection from the rain.  I remember hearing the stories of what goes on here.  Stories of boat loads of girls being trafficked across the river under the cover of darkness.  Stories of drugs, black market sales, and gangs.  Stories of violence, of hopelessness, stories rooted in fear.  This was a place that wrecked me, a place where Jesus broke me, a place His voice echoed loudly in my head but also deep within my soul.  I remember looking out under the Friendship Bridge that stretches high above the river connecting Thailand to Myanmar, and I remember seeing a strategically placed shack below - protected by the bridge from some of the sun and rain.  I remember because it was there I took one photo, the same one I’ve carried in my Bible since that day.  Planted firmly in the book of Luke, the photo sits as a reminder of what the Lord spoke that day…

“Whoever would come after me, let him deny himself, take up his cross daily and follow me.  For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will save it.” (Luke 9:23-24)

Inscribed there on the back of this photo I’d written these words, “I have counted the cost and I will seek after God with all my heart.”  At the time, it was a truth I was desperately trying to pursue, and one that I did not fully understand.  A teachable moment and place I would revisit time and time again through that photo.

A year later, I was wrestling and restless, feeling the Lord’s pull to go but uncertain what my destination was.  I had dreams, visions, and big ideas, yet God was bringing me back to a place of surrender, asking me if I’d be willing to lay even those things down.  And these were good things, Kingdom-sized dreams and hopes.  But there I was, flipping through the pages of my Bible purposefully in search of the scripture the Lord had laid on my heart - “deny yourself, Kristy.”  And there it was, the photo from No Man’s Land with words I had written on the back that I’d forgotten about… “Called to the ‘No Man’s Land’s’ of the World.”  A reminder, a promise, a truth from the Father of where my life was headed and what my life was for.  That moment reminded my soul of the same call I carry inside me still: my heart is for the outcast, the broken, the unknown - those places that people seldom see and those people whom no one really knows; they hold my heart.  And in my wrestling that day, God confirmed it through a simple photo taken along the border of a land that belonged to no one.

In the year that followed, I revisited that photo at least a dozen times.  Two of those times left the back of the photo filled with more words from the Father.  That April of 2015, I knew the Lord was asking me to leave the position I held at my church, but the scary thing was, I didn’t know what was going to replace it.  I wasn’t sensing any clear direction from the Lord and it seemed crazy to me that I would give up my position for such an unknown.  I wrestled with the Lord on it and walked away with one phrase also inscribed now on the back of that photo… “In your care for the outcast, you will risk becoming an outcast yourself.”  I can’t really explain it, but I’m so thankful for what the Lord spoke that day.  For me, it was a moment of the Lord affirming those fears and insecurities that had been welling up within me.  He saw them.  He knew them well.  It felt like the craziest idea to consider putting an end date on my steady job at the church, which I knew how to do.  I felt like it would be misunderstood by others and worried people would think I was making a mistake.  After all, how was I going to answer the questions that would come?  “So Kristy, you’re moving on from NMC to go where?”  What was my response going to be?  “I have no idea yet?!”  But that phrase the Lord spoke, though it may not sound very positive, gave me such a peace I can’t explain.  There was something so powerful in the Lord confirming all the fears that had been swelling, something so powerful in Him agreeing this would be a risk to take, a cost to count.  I’d love to say that was the day I put an end date on my time at my job but it wasn’t.  That cost looked so big to me, and I was unsure about paying it.  But months later, yes MONTHS, though the cost hadn’t changed any, something in my spirit had.  And suddenly something that had caused so many sleepless nights and had raised up so many fears within me… suddenly it felt worth it.  Nothing had changed as far as a secure next step but this moment was marked by a truth I thought I had stumbled upon but really the Lord purposefully led me to.  A truth now also written on the back of that photo: “You will keep in perfect peace those whose minds are steadfast, because they trust in You.  Trust in the LORD forever, for the LORD, the LORD himself, is the Rock eternal.” (Isaiah 26:3-4). Peace washed over me in a way I can’t explain when I finally put an end date on my season at my church.  Though that date was over 9.5 months away, a commitment to complete the school year I’d just begun with the students, there was such a peace in not knowing where I would be or what I would do when the school year was finished.

It was a peace that would carry me back to the border of Thailand and Myanmar, nearly two years later as I sit here in this spot once again recounting the journey.  I’ve lived here now for one year with no end date in mind.  And in a place of so much brokenness, desperation, hopelessness and wreckage, I have such a peace.  This place has changed me, probably more than I know, or maybe it’s simply that it’s brought to life a part of me that always existed but I never fully embraced until now.

The hopelessness is still seen here along the border.  It shows itself in the kids wondering the streets all day digging through the garbage collecting plastics rather than sitting in a classroom.  It shows itself in the faces of the mamas, their eyes heavy with exhaustion as they struggle to provide for their families one day at a time.  It shows itself in the disheartening stories and statistics I continue to hear about trafficking, prostitution, forced labor, and discrimination.  Some days, the feeling of hopelessness is overwhelming.  Some days I sit along the border and watch through the cracks of a clapboard house on stilts two kids swinging on a ragged old hammock seemingly unaware of a world full of opportunities just beyond their reach.  Some days I’m approached by a little boy, no more than five, dressed in rags and covered in dirt, hands folded beneath his chin as he begs me for money.  And on this particular day, I sit looking out over the river staring at the empty boats tied up along the side.  And it’s a moment that brings a million different questions to my mind.  “Jesus, what am I doing here?  What are you doing here?  What difference are we making?  And how can we make more of one?”  These and a million other questions daily swarm around in my brain.

And then, some days I stand laughing in my kitchen with four beautiful young women and friends as we make pasta together and cut vegetables.  Some days we laugh till we cry as we sit and play uno together for an hour and a half.  Some days we sweat together as we help a young woman and her husband move and settle into their new future home together, and my heart soars as I see her independence and confidence grow.  Some days I’m encouraged as I sit in a room full of kids and youth and hear them share about what the Lord is teaching them.  Some days I get to spend hours in a nearby village laughing, sharing, and praying with a church full of strong, incredible and beautiful women.  And those are moments that remind me Jesus is doing far more than I can see.

Today I added a new photo to my Bible, another reminder of what the Lord is speaking.  The front of the photo holds the laughter and smiles of young women I have grown to know and love, women the Lord has continued to use to deeply influence and impact my life.  And it's fitting that the words visible in the background of the photo are simply “Influence. Be braverly.”  Yet it’s the words now written on the back that are filling me with such a confidence as I walk with the Lord in this season.  A promise of truth from the Father I’m committed to carry not only in my Bible but in my heart and mind…

“The LORD will guide you always; He will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land and will strengthen your frame.  You will be like a well-watered garden, like a spring whose waters never fail.  Your people will rebuild the ancient ruins and will raise up the age-old foundations; you will be called Repairer of Broken Walls, Restorer of Streets with Dwellings.” (Isaiah 58:11-12)

I’m so thankful for that image of empty boats along the border and for countless other images and moments that have brought me back to the Father, laying down my questions at His feet.  Because it’s in those moments His truth runs so rich in my life, reminding me how He is at work in every moment… guiding me, always.