On a Thursday afternoon, Shannon and I sat with Brian and Duang Wilson in a realtor’s office. We were there to ask about a house we were seriously considering renting for our first year of language study here in Chiangmai, Thailand. We had only been there a few minutes when Brian got a call on his mobile phone. We could see that something was wrong but couldn’t make out Brian’s Thai. “We have to go—now!” said Brian, tears welling up in his eyes. I apologized to the realtors and tried to set up another appointment with them as we ran out the door, not sure why we were running so fast.

In the truck, Brian explained that the call was from the province of Nan where he and Duang had lived and worked for many years. Lai Jiem’s mother had just died in an accident. He didn’t know any details. They would have to break the news to her, as she was staying with them while she studied a trade.

When we got to the house, Duang ran in and gave Lai a big hug of encouragement as she told her the devastating news. Lai was heartbroken. The neighbors came to see why she was wailing. Brian offered to take Lai to Nan, four hours away, so she could attend the funeral. Duang couldn’t go, and since it wouldn’t look good for Brian to be taking Lai by himself, it was decided that I should go along. Shannon would stay with Duang and the kids.

During the long drive, Brian told me some of the history of their project in Nan—how angry Lai’s parents were when she told them she wanted to become a Christian and how she had finally asked the pastor at Mission College to baptize her before her parents could stop it. She had said she wanted to be baptized even if it meant her family killed her. They didn’t kill her or beat her, but they did verbally abuse her for a time after her baptism. Over the subsequent years, Lai’s faithfulness had been paying off and her family had softened quite a bit. Lai was planning to return to the village to be a missionary after she learned a trade. She had been hoping that her mother would decide to become a Christian. Now it was too late.

Then Brian shared how death threats from drug smugglers had forced his family to move to Chiangmai until the flames of violence went out. As I listened, I thought, “What kind of situation am I getting myself into? Do people there still want Brian dead?”

We prayed for protection as we arrived in Nam Khong well after dark. There in that Mien hilltribe village, in and around the house that had been home to Lai’s family of ten, more than a hundred relatives and villagers had already gathered. On a bed in one corner of the room, Lai Jiem’s father sat weeping uncontrollably with his Christian daughter. Nearby, Brian gave a small gift of money, an expected courtesy of all visitors to help alleviate the funeral expenses. What expenses? Well, for one thing, they feed everyone who comes and stays day and night for three to four days. That’s a lot of food! I gave money, too. In the opposite corner of the room, stretched out on top of bamboo slats and wrapped from head to toe in a thick purple blanket, was the body of Lai’s mother. “What kind of lady was she really, and what exactly happened?” I wondered.

No one really knows what happened. Lai’s father was driving their pickup truck and her mother was riding behind in the bed of the truck. It was a good, flat road, clear of obstacles. Suddenly, the truck veered off the road and rolled over. Lai’s father heard her mother scream as she flew out of the bed of the truck, and then she cried, “I’m dead!” just before the truck landed on her.

Now, all around me were the strange sounds of people speaking Thai and Mien. There was the wail of weeping and annoying clanging of handbells as Taoist spirit doctors began the first of a seemingly endless round of ceremonies, sacrifices, and conversations with the spirits that would continue night and day for the next 84 hours. I felt very strange. And I wondered, “What is my purpose here now that Lai is with her family?”

Brian said, “Just mingle with people, befriend Lai’s family, and encourage her as well. She will face great pressure to take part in the spirit ceremonies.”

So, with a prayer in my heart, I began using all the Thai I could muster to speak with Lai’s family. They were very patient with my many mistakes and helped tutor me. I knew it would be easier for me to sit in a corner and keep quiet, but I wanted to show that I cared enough to risk embarrassment in order to befriend them. These simple conversations were part of the spiritual battle going on all around us.

On Friday, I learned that we would be going to the village of Huey Fai for Friday vespers and Sabbath worship with the believers there. Then we would all come back to Nam Khong to encourage Lai’s family. Before we left, I asked Lai, “How are you? Did you get any sleep last night?”

“I’m okay, but no, I didn’t really sleep last night,” she answered.
“Please try to get some sleep,” I said.  “Your mind and body need it! You know we’re going, but we will come back tomorrow. We’re praying for you.”

“Thank-you so much and God bless you!” she replied. Then we left.
After church that Sabbath, 12 people piled into Brian’s truck to head back to the funeral. On the way, Brian called Duang in Chiangmai. Duang had bad news. Lai had called earlier saying that the spirit ceremonies were not working. One of the spirit doctors had communicated with her mother’s spirit and learned that the reason the ceremonies were not working was because Lai wasn’t cooperating. Duang feared that Lai, under such great pressure, had agreed to take part in some of the ceremonies.

We all felt really bad, and I felt a little guilty. I thought perhaps we had failed Lai by leaving her alone for 24 hours. Satan always seems to attack at our weakest moments.  Lai’s Christianity was being blamed for the failures of their ceremonies, and here I was driving with Brian, the man who more than any other on earth was responsible for her becoming a Christian. It seemed that we were driving into a hornet’s nest.

When we got to Nam Khong, I asked Brian if he was going to go up to her house right away. He said, “No. I’m too angry with the situation right now.”

“Should I go up there now?” I asked.

“No,” he answered. “Just go for a walk and pray. That’s the best thing you can do right now. Come back at noon and we’ll go up.”

As I walked, I prayed for courage, safety, forgiveness, and restoration for our sister, Lai. God brought peace to my heart through the song “A Mighty Fortress is our God.” Especially relevant was the part that says, “And though this world, with devils filled, should threaten to undo us, we will not fear for God has willed His truth to triumph through us. . . . Let goods and kindred go, this mortal life also. The body, they may kill. God’s truth abideth still. His kingdom is forever.”

Strengthened in spirit, I returned to the house believing that somehow everything would be all right. And indeed, when I met Brian, he told me that he had already gone up to funeral, and all was well. No one appeared hateful or threatening. After talking with Lai, he’d found out that she had only taken part in some rituals that honored the memory of her mother—something that she felt the fifth commandment urged her to do.

We ate lunch with Lai, and Brian warned her of ceremonies yet to come that were purely demonic which she should be sure to avoid. Then we invited her to come down to the house where we were staying and join us for some singing and a Sabbath afternoon worship service. She came and was very grateful for the Christian fellowship. How sweet this worship service seemed compared to the noxious sights of animal sacrifices, the drone of chanting and the cacophony of firecrackers, drums, and cymbals.

The funeral continued two more days. We did our best to show Lai’s family that Christians have something better to offer. We have real hope, which the Mien people still need.

After the cremation, some of the ashes were brought back to the house and dumped on the ground. Many people pressed around, studying the ashes, to see what type of creature Lai’s mother had been reincarnated into. Someone said, “It looks to me like she’s a dragonfly.” Another said, “We really have no idea what she has become.” The answer seemed so hopeless.

I praise God that we have much more hope than this! We have hope for our own salvation and also that we will see our believing loved ones again at the resurrection. That’s a blessed hope!

Brian and I are now back in Chiangmai. Brian is in the midst of his ministry, and Shannon and I are preparing for ours. But behind all these things, the spiritual battles still rage. Thank you for praying. Your prayers ensure spiritual victory.

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