When my mom’s brother, Uncle Steve, heard our family was going as missionaries to Cambodia, he said, “What? You are taking your children over there? Don’t you know they have mosquitoes the size of helicopters that will kidnap them?”
Cambodians, too, were astounded when we showed up. “We would do anything to go to America,” they said, “but you came here!” Most people assumed my parents drew rich salaries from the government, and I loved seeing warmth come into their eyes when I explained that our friends and family each gave as they could to send us there because they loved Cambodia, too. The Cambodians knew we struggled with homesickness and our new diet, but that we were staying there for them. It touched their hearts. I began to see that part of the beauty of missions is the simple fact that a gift becomes more valuable the more you must sacrifice to give it.
The father of Nory, one of my boyhood friends, told me that, to get to America, he would be willing to float in a pot across the ocean and paddle with a spoon. And yet my family had gone the other direction! My parents left a place where they had good medical care for my three-year-old sister Hannah, who had horrible asthma, to go to dusty, moldy, wet Cambodia. Miraculously, Hannah was completely healed just before we moved to the village. God taught us to rely on Him, and Cambodians were amazed that our priority was not quality of life but helping our friends.
Chhiya, a young boy living on his own, told us, “I wish I could be your dog.” The rice and canned fish we gave our dog looked like a feast to him. By taking him under our wing, we learned how to interact as friends with the poorest of the poor and engage them effectively.
Some mornings we would find ragged bundles on our porch with skin like paper stretched over tiny bones. I watched my mom’s tears as she tried to nurse these starving babies back to health. Were they five months old or five years old? I can still see their sunken eyes. As we cared for them, God planted seeds of compassion.
Was I sheltered because I didn’t know the latest movie or computer game that my friends were talking about on furlough? No. Did I lack socialization because my parents and siblings were the only English speakers I saw for months at a time? Maybe. Did I feel comfortable at Southern Adventist University where there was more free candy on teacher’s desks than an orphanage in Cambodia would get at Christmas time? Do I feel comfortable driving by several attractive churches to get to the one I attend, or listening to so many happy voices praising and singing to Jesus when the Great River People I left in Cambodia haven’t even yet heard the song Jesus Loves Me? Absolutely not. Sacrifice gave our family new eyes for the world. I hurt deeply for the world’s need.
Looking back, I can now say that going to Cambodia was the best thing that ever happened to my family. Giving, we learned, was not a transaction but a spiritual transformation. When we give, we are imitating the character of God. He gave His Son. Can you hear the questions buzzing through heaven: “What? God is sending His Son down there? Doesn’t he know they can’t give back, and they won’t even care? Would Jesus leave a place where angels fly to go where evil men walk to and fro?” This Gift came to us across great distance with unimaginable sacrifice. That is what makes it priceless. What is your priceless gift?

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