In our time on the Tonle Sap Lake, we have been in seven or eight villages. The populations of these villages have ranged from a few hundred to a few thousand. Some villages have schools, churches, a pagoda, and government offices. Some have small stores, selling everything from phone cards to food to gasoline – need a “cold one,” they have it; need a quick meal, they have it. There are mechanics and machine shops. In addition to the boat houses, there are also permanent structures on stilts. These houses are here year-round, sitting by the un-flooded river.
In Bak Prea, during our off-week, we were next to one of these permanent houses. They had ducks – no problems during the high water. They had an otter – again, high water not a problem for him. They even had two large dogs – lots of water could be a problem. The dogs and ducks stayed on top of the floating dog house, and would swim around for exercise.
I often wonder if the people would like for us to stop outside the village. Not just pull up right next to them. You know, like the motor homes parking around Venice, California. I suppose we could be considered bad neighbors: Khmer gospel music on the loudspeaker each morning, a morning prayer, increased boat traffic due to patients coming and going all day, people laughing and talking in the evening, a dog barking and playing. I wouldn’t be crazy about this big ship in my neighborhood. But, they don’t seem to mind. They will happily put up with what I might consider an inconvenience or intrusion, so the village can have medical and dental care.
Lieng, our night guard, told me that the people in our last village really liked us being here. When the men are coming home at night, after fishing, they use the lights of our ship as a landmark. After a long hard fishing trip, these fishermen just want to be home. It gets dark out here, at night. No, I mean REALLY dark. It is particularly dark during the rainy season, because of the thick cloud cover. It can really be hard to find your way. It is just water, treetops, and water vegetation. It looks the same on both sides of the boat, particularly at night. The fisherman appreciate help. They know that if they just head to the light, they will get home.
After he shared the story, I thought about why we are here. And that “we” isn’t referring to those of us on the ship, alone. That “we” is all of us. That is why I am here. That is why you are here. We are to be a beacon. We are supposed to be the light shining in the darkness. We are the city on the hill that cannot be hidden. We are the light that is meant to be set on the stand to provide light for the whole house. That is our job – be the light that man can see, in order to find his way home. God blesses us and cares for us. What does he want in return? He wants us to be the light. Yes, I think it is really that simple.
When I think about this, I have to ask myself two questions.
First, how bright is my light? Can anyone see it? Maybe, I have it hidden under a bowl. I think I can save my light for later. Or maybe, there are so many other things going on in my life that the “juice” is being drawn out of my light; and it just keeps getting weaker and weaker.
Second, I have to ask where my light is leading people. If they are following me, where am I taking them? Can I get them home? Or, will I just take them farther and farther away.
These are two questions that I must answer (uh, and by “I,” I mean we). Am I just bright lights on a lake, or am I helping the spiritually lost find their way home to the Father.
You are the light of the world. A town built on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. Matthew 5:14-15
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