Arun didn’t let the situation bother him
until the night snakes crawled over the floor.
Within a year’s time, the deteriorating roof was leaking profusely. Scorpions and centipedes crawled on the
wooden floor five inches above the ground during rainy season. Obviously, something needed to be done
immediately.
“It’s time to build the parsonage,” Arun
told his people. “Last year’s strong
opposition has mellowed.” Everyone
agreed. Construction began on the first
week of April 2006 without incident.
Posts went up; shiny roof sheets were installed; a concrete wall
followed. But the new house drew the
attention of some prominent Buddhist leaders.
 |
| A pastoral House demolished and burned down in April 2006 |
When the house was nearly finished, a mob
led by the village chief and a Buddhist leader razed and burned it to the
ground. Witnesses watched in horror as
approximately 20 people participated in the devastation, some chanting
anti-Christian slogans such as “Long live Buddhism!” and “Down with
Christianity!” Bystanders were in tears
while the flames gradually consumed the building. Could those be tears of joy? No.
Tears of sorrow and pity mingled together for this thing which never should
have happened. Many Buddhists were among
those unhappy with the actions of the mob.
As the fire died down and the smoke
vanished, my team arrived at the scene.
Seven fully armed police officers stood by, waiting for our “go” signal
to arrest the assailants. Ashes and
ruins remained on the ground. I asked
God for wisdom. What should be our
response as representatives of Jesus in this land?
Due to the rareness of religious persecution
in Cambodia, some people dismissed the notion that religion was the motivation
for this terrible deed. In newspaper
reports that followed, journalists tried to pinpoint other reasons for the
misdirected zeal. I didn’t know if we
could ever be sure about the motivations of the perpetrators, but deep within
my heart I knew one thing was certain.
Our only response must be to forgive.
Before I could say anything, members and
pastors made their feelings clear. “We
should teach these Buddhist leaders some lessons,” they said. They agreed that the only response was to
retaliate through legal means. They
unanimously voiced their intent to take the matter to court. They argued that no Cambodian law prohibits
its constituency from building houses on their own property. “Christians are always at the bottom of the
ladder,” they agreed, “always being crushed by others.”
“What’s wrong with being at the bottom or
being seen as weak and powerless?” I countered.
As the discussion continued, I was aware that a decision had to be made
within 48 hours or the ring leaders could not be arrested. Delaying a decision meant allowing the mob
leaders to go unpunished.
My church friends did not want to see that
happen. “We will be forever persecuted
if we don’t act today,” they argued. “Go
to court or close down the work,” they advised.
As I paused to reflect, some questions came
to mind. Am I ready to pay the price for further persecution? I wondered. Am I
willing to take the responsibility for more injustice toward Christianity in
this community? But I knew that
speculation based on fear of future persecution was not solid ground for making
any present decision. After all,
Christians are called to suffer with Christ.
United by strong conviction, Kimsan, the
Cambodian Wesleyan leader, and I stood our ground opposing the majority opinion
among pastors and members that the incident should take its course to court,
see the mob leaders arrested, and building costs paid back in triple fold. Though it seemed culturally acceptable to
bring the matter to court, we knew we must put Scriptural principles above
cultural consensus.
The emotional atmosphere turned gloomy when
we declared that we would not be filing a complaint or going to court. Local believers felt that decision would seal
further persecution and injustice toward Christianity in their community. They felt betrayed. In their eyes, we were simply accepting
defeat without fighting for their rights.
We tried to explain our position. “We may win the case at court, but forever
lose our Christian witness. Winning at
the cost of forgiveness does not make one a winner,” we told them.
Sometimes forgiveness seems unfair. Human nature demands retaliation; Christ
chose to forgive His betrayers. Human
nature demands justice, yet Jesus asks us to forgive. Human nature demands our rights; we are
called to leave justice in the hands of the One who does all things well.
It’s not easy. Natural tendencies to pursue revenge can
overwhelm us in times of tragedy and loss.
But that road leads to bitterness, anger, and hatred. The only remedy left to unloose such a
stranglehold is forgiveness. When we
forgive offenders, we release ourselves from the grip of the past and resolve
to gaze at the future with faith and hope.
After all, forgiveness is an act of faith. That is what we all needed to discover.
And we did.
Feelings of defeat and the unwillingness to forgive gradually
subsided. A remarkable transformation
took place. Pastor Arun, together with
some key church members, agreed to meet the mob ringleaders to offer
forgiveness and seek reconciliation.
Their offer was accepted.
What happened next was totally
unexpected. Some Buddhist leaders, the
district governor, and commune chief gave their permission to build a new house
similar to the previous one, a gesture of genuine reconciliation.
Each Sunday, the place of worship is filled
with eager worshipers. No vacant seats
available. To date, no further acts of
persecution and no injustices toward Christianity have occurred in Boeng Krum.
No fire is strong enough to destroy the
power of forgiveness.
Note:
I, Greg, wrote this article for the Wesleyan World Magazine in 2006. The article was originally titled "Fire and Forgiveness." This story
happened on April 28, 2006. Today, the Wesleyan Church still exists in that
village. In 2010, the village chief and Buddhist leaders granted the church a permit to
build a parsonage in the church property.
