The screen door gently clicked shut—quiet enough not to wake Stephanie and our two-month-old. It was 6:00 a.m. In our village, the market is a “blink-and-you’ll-miss-it” affair; if you are not there by 7:15 a.m., you are left with empty dirt lots and the rising heat. Stephanie had prepared a mission-critical shopping list. We had guests coming. So I set out for the market under the first rays of the sun.

That is where I met “Uncle.”

He did not look like the typical market seller. He was well-dressed, sporting a worn but tidy shirt tucked into his trousers, rubber sandals, and a jacket with zip pockets. I stopped to eye his pile of garden-fresh eggplants.

“How much?” I asked.

“Fifty cents,” he said.

“Fifty cents each, sir?”

He laughed. “No! Fifty cents for the whole pile. I have more vegetables than my family can eat today.”
Then he looked at me closely. “I know you,” he said. “I have met you twice before. You once asked permission to drive your tiny tractor through my land. Do you remember?”

I was floored—he had an eagle eye for detail, even while I was just a guy on a tractor.

The “Village Rebel”
Uncle told me he lives past the school, where he owns three hectares (seven-and-a-half acres) of rubber and cashew trees and pineapple plants. “Every spare inch of the yard around my house is a vegetable garden, too. What we do not eat, I sell here at the market.” Unfortunately, his productivity has made him a bit of an outcast.

“My neighbors do not like it,” he told me. “They sit in groups under their stilted houses all afternoon, drinking and playing cards. When they get buzzed and call me to join them, I do not go. They get offended. They say, ‘Fine, go be friends with the Muslims if you are too good for us!’ They are just jealous my yard looks better than theirs.”
“I am glad you do not drink, Uncle. I had a dear friend die of alcoholism. Many people do not change their bad habits until it is too late.” Then I took the leap: “Uncle, you are a Buddhist, right? As a Buddhist, what do you do to clean your sins and receive paradise?”

“We make merit,” he said simply. “Help the poor, donate to the temple, live honestly. Are not all religions the same? They all teach us to do good.”

The “Giraffe” Test
“Actually,” I said, “I believe there is a way to be clean from sin that is much different. Can I share it?”

He nodded, and I started with the basics. But I hit a wall almost immediately.

“Have you ever heard of Adam and Eve? Noah? Moses?”

Blank stare.

“Have you never heard of a worldwide flood or even seen pictures of giraffes and elephants in a boat?”

Nothing.

I lost my mental balance for a minute because I am so used to sharing with my Muslim neighbors who can recite 24 Biblical prophets plus Muhammad at any time. But Uncle was a total clean slate. I had to go back to the very beginning—a God who spoke the world into being, a perfect garden, and the first sacrifice of a lamb to cover human shame.

The Lamb and the Miracles
I told him how the sin problem kept getting worse until people forgot God; they had become slaves of His enemy. But then Jesus, the Son of God, arrived. Uncle’s eyes went wide as I described the life Jesus lived. I told him how He walked on top of a stormy sea, how He commanded demons to flee, and how He had healed the blind and the paralyzed.

When I told him Jesus raised the dead—not once, but three times—he just kept shaking his head in amazement. He did not doubt it; he was just wondering why he had never heard this story before.

“When Jesus was 30,” I continued, “a messenger for God named John pointed to Him and cried out: ‘Behold, the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!’”

I explained that Jesus was young, strong and healthy—but He began telling His students that He would soon die. Corrupt leaders killed Him out of jealousy over His popularity, but He could have escaped. He stayed because He was the real sacrificial lamb. “He took the punishment for every wrong thing we have ever done and rose again to show He has power over death and will one day raise everyone who has died. There is no merit, Uncle. Our sins are cleansed because we believe in what Jesus did. Does that make sense?”

The Great Ancestor Debate
Uncle grew quiet. “I have heard Christians cannot offer food and incense to their parents,” he said. This is one of the ultimate hurdles for many Khmer Buddhists.

“Two things, Uncle,” I said. “First, Jesus teaches us to honor our parents even more when we become Christians, and especially while they are alive. Second, the dead do not actually need to eat.”

“I have always thought that!” he exclaimed. “Still, I am very devout about making offerings to my ancestors. I do not think it means anything, but it is what we have always done, and it cannot be left undone.”

Building Spiritual Muscle Memory
By now, the market was empty. The crowds were gone, and the sun was getting high. I bought his last four bunches of water morning glory to help him finish his day, then gave two away on my trip home.

This conversation did not end with a city-wide revival like in the story of the woman at the well. But a seed was planted in brand-new soil. I have a new friend to visit at the market, and I am thankful for the chance to be the hands and mouth of Jesus to a man who had never even heard the name of Noah.

Please pray for Uncle—and for me, as I keep building spiritual muscle memory so I may share the gospel clearly in this beautiful, complex corner of the world.

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