at the table…

This weekend I will be speaking for part of a Jr. High Retreat. The students attend an international English speaking church in Chiang Mai. Please pray for me as I prepare, as I travel to the retreat center on Friday night, and as I speak to the students on Saturday.

Thank you,

Jason

With the exception of that pointer to Relevant Magazine, my recent posts have been long. Maybe you don’t have time to read long. Here are a few of the things that I might have shared with you if we were speaking regularly and we ran thin on significant topics like sports, politics, and the real meaning of life. You might not have the time to read all of them at once. Don’t then. Read them at your leisure. If you want, you can read them in the morning with your daily devotionals. Notice I said “with” and not “as” your devotional. This is only supplemental.

Let’s start with the alpha and omega of all topics: the beginning, the end, and the lag in between.

The Weather

• One week ago my morning ritual involved me scurrying out of bed to grab a winter hat and a sweatshirt. Christy and I were sleeping under every warm blanket that we own. Why? It’s cold. We live in Thailand and it’s cold. I never thought I would utter that phrase when we decided to move here.
• A night or two ago we decided to shed one of the warmer blankets. It’s warming up. I stopped wearing pj pants and socks to bed. I may not want to drink much hot coffee in the near future.
• Yesterday the wind started blowing. It was nice. Cool again. This morning it was cold. It’s afternoon and it is cold still. (Which was abnormal even a week ago) Leaves are blowing all over the place. Things are beginning to die. There is a pine tree in view of our living room window. It feels an awful lot like an east Texas fall, just before our snip of winter. I wish that were the case. The heat is coming. We may have another month of pleasant weather, but then, the hot season begins and the burning really picks up. (farmers burning the land, that is) Someone said recently that it will begin to look like we’re driving through the flames of hell. Rick told us that he wishes he could leave the country every April. Apparently it’s bad.

Film

• Stranger than Fiction: Three or four people recommended this movie to me when we were in the States. It was billed to me as “Will Ferrel’s “Truman Show.” So a few days ago I watched it and it did not disappoint. I especially enjoyed one line spoken by the author (paraprhased) : “It’s one thing to write the death of a man who doesn’t know he is going to die, but if the man knows he is going to die (for a good cause) and then chooses to die anyway, well, isn’t that the kind of man that you would want to keep alive?”
• Dreamer: I watched this last night. It’s not normal for me to cry during a movie. It is however normal for my eyes to begin to water and for my throat to choke up, and for me to then try to conceal these things under the dim light of the television. That happened a few times during this movie.

New Life

• Christy and I went for a run a few days ago. When we finished, one of the female staffers attempted to alert us to something important. She might as well have been telling me that Timmy had just fallen in a well, but Christy seemed to understand, so we followed her. We walked down past the organic garden to find all of the staff staring at a grazing cow with hooves sticking out of her back side. Now I grew up around cows and horses, and I think that I have seen a newly born colt, but strangely this was my first time to ever see a cow actually give birth. We all waited and watched. I was struck by the fact that EVERYONE had stopped working to witness this event. The mother cow seemed unphased. She just kept chewing her hay, laying down for a moment every now and then, until finally, the new baby calf was lying on the ground before us. Her motherly instincts kicked in and she immediately began to care for this new life. It was pretty amazing.
• Last month two of our of UHDP dogs gave birth to puppies. Dogs are everywhere now and so are their flees. Christy and I sort of adopted one of the pups yesterday. It stays at our house so we thought that it might as well be clean. Christy freaked it out with a bath. We gave it some food. We named it Sanook. That means “joy.”

Books

I’ve finished two books since returning to UHDP:

• “They Audacity of Hope,” by Barack Obama – An interesting read.
• “The Leadership Secrets of Billy Graham,” By Harold Myra and Marshall Shelly – I expected to read about Graham’s wisdom, integrity, innovation, and his unwavering commitment to the Gospel. What I was surprised by was his influence on social change in the twentieth century. (including civil rights/race relations, communism, and ecumenism)

Food

• Pork: People eat a lot of pork in Thailand. I know this is probably shaving months off my life, but I’ve come to terms with it. Most of it is pretty good, but there are a few things that I hope to avoid in the future:
  • Pig skin: Some might call them Pork Rhines. For some reason this never really registered. It didn’t, that is, until we processed that pig. (I have video footage if you haven’t seen this) Since then I’ve tried to avoid the pig skins.
  • Congealed Pigs Blood: I’ve been served this every time we’ve eaten in a Palaung village. It doesn’t taste that bad, but still, I’m trying to avoid it.
  • Raw pig meat: This happened at church last Sunday. The guy across from me was waving me off of it, but I just figured it was because he thought I couldn’t take the heat. I thought it was Nam Pric. (previous post) It wasn’t. It was raw pig meat. (with peppers mixed in) After I finished eating a LOT of it a light bulb went off in my head. “Was that raw pig?” “Yep.”
• More Food: Unscaled fish. Water Beetle Past (tastes ok, but they tell me it makes some people crazy) Pickled everything you can imagine. These are not a few of my favorite things.

Miscellaneous:

• I began prayer walks in the woods again.
• I saw 14 men move a cut tree across a mountain side. Rick said that the tree probably weighed as much as a small car. Chain Saws are illegal here.
• Sat through 5 hours of a staff meeting. All but .02% of it was in Thai. Key words there: “sat” and “through.”
• I’m learning how to work with a website. Thank you, Nathan.
• I visited three more villages.

That’s about it. I hope you’ve enjoyed catching up. What’s going on in your world?

I awoke this morning to a very nice suprise….

You can read the article below today on Relevant Magazine’s website. If you’re interested, go to the Relevant website and click on the God link, or click HERE to access the article directly.

This, then, is how you should pray: Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name, your kingdom come, your will be done on earth as it is in heaven. Give us today our daily bread. Forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from the evil one. (Matthew 6: 9-13)

Jesus described the Kingdom of God as a radical place. In seminary we referred to it as “the upside down kingdom.” It’s a place where “I” don’t come first, but “You” come first. It’s a place where poor people get the front row seats and wealthy people sit in the nosebleed section. It’s a place where being “well off” means that you’re humble and meek and submissive and loving. Jesus said it’s a place that exists, not in a world elsewhere, but within us, around us, and among us. We see glimpses of it every time that we love our neighbor as ourselves.

“And who is our neighbor?” The down and out, the poor, the oppressed, the orphan, the widow, the minority, & the prostitute. And how does God’s kingdom come? Jesus often refers to the kingdom of God as a secret. It’s something one has to search for. One might not notice it. It may start small, but over time it has the potential to explode into this world and to spread like a wildfire.

I believe the story of UHDP is a parable for the kingdom of God.

On December 2^nd we celebrated the 10 year anniversary of UHDP. It is pretty amazing to compare what UHDP looked like when it began to what is happening right now.

Recently I was co-leading a student group with a Thai agriculturalist named Toe. Through his broken English, Toe told the students something that caught my attention:

“This land was once dead. Don’t make the land dead students, because when you make the land dead, it is very, very difficult to make it alive again.”

10 years ago the land at UHDP was dry, desolate, and dead. There was nothing there; just an open piece of rocky soil.

Just before I left for the states this Christmas, I visited a Palaung village. Towards the end of my visit a group of students showed up to explore the area. We all hiked up into the village’s agro forest. It was truly amazing. I felt like I was beginning to understand what the Garden of Eden might have looked like. However, in the midst of our trek I discovered that several years ago, when UHDP first started working in this area, it too was somewhat desolate. The leaders described to me the “before” pictures that they had seen. I became more and more amazed. And then, as I was marveling at the beauty of God’s creation in this place, one of the older men, who has a PhD in agriculture, leaned over and whispered something into my ear:

“Jason, this is amazing. This doesn’t just happen. This takes hard work, lots of patience, and a great love of the land.”

Right there, in that moment, I began to understand the kingdom of God a little better. UHDP was a dry, desolate piece of land until a man came along with a vision to see God’s kingdom come among the marginalized hill tribes of Northern Thailand. With hard work, great patience, lots of prayer, and a love of the land, UHDP began to produce and to grow, and as it did, the people didn’t just focus on themselves, but they were always going out, spending time in the villages; not just teaching, but mainly learning, asking questions, helping villages trade secrets, and through time, with love and patience and prayer, they began to see things happen like I was seeing this day. A people who were struggling for life, were beginning to have it, AND to have it abundantly. That, my friends, is what Jesus was talking about. That is what WE are called to be a part of. We are called to pray the prayer that Jesus taught us, yes, but we are also called to live it out, in our communities and beyond.

Your kingdom Come, your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.

May God grant that prayer in your midst, with you and beyond you…

I ran across a site last night that inspired me and led to the creation of this page. If you’re interested, check the link above marked Badness.

Learning a new language is difficult. Have I mentioned that? They say that the best way to learn a language is to be immersed in it. I tend to agree. The only thing about immersion is that one has to be immersed to learn by immersion. That means living in a land where no one speaks your language.

I’ve done that twice this year.

I have learned some French and I have learned some Thai, but I think I’ve also learned something else. I’ve learned to listen with my eyes. I’ve learned to give my attention. I’ve learned to smile and to nod my head. And with children, I’ve learned that if one combines this with the playfulness of spinning and hoisting and tickling, they really don’t care what you understand. They like you.

This is not to say that I haven’t endured the humiliation of language blunders. I have. Just a few.

A few months ago I was working with students and villagers at a market in Chiang Mai. Afterwards, I caught the Fang bus back to the project.

The Fang bus is big and red, it has no air-conditioner, and on this day, it was packed. After being turned away like Forest Gump by one elderly couple, a mother and daughter made a little room for me on their seat. I half-cheeked it for about 2 hours of the 3 1/2 hour trip.

At some point I looked behind me and saw that someone in the back of the bus was smiling and waving at me. I recognized him from UHDP. I had met him once, in passing, for about a second.

With a little more than an hour to go, the bus stopped. People got off, took a break, bought stuff, and then reloaded. The seat next to me was now open, so the smiley guy came and sat down beside me.

After about 15 minutes we had exhausted our conversational possibilities. Smiling had worn thin, and so we awkwardly turned to ourselves and stopped communicating. He seemed to be content. I wasn’t. I needed to know him and I needed to practice Thai, so I began trying to ask him questions. He would kindly respond, and I found that I could understand about 60 % of what he was saying to me. I then decided that if I could discern some of the unknown words that he kept repeating I might be able to comprehend much more. So I picked a word.

“Boncha arai?” (what is Boncha?) He looked confused. I asked again: “Boncha ARAI?” He tried to explain.

After several attempts at explanation he seemed abnormally flustered. He held up his hands, turned to face forward, and he indicated to me that he was done with our conversation.

After about 15 mintues I asked again: “BONCHA ARAI?” He worked with me for a few more minutes before he gave up again. The rest of the trip was mostly silent.

The next day I was having a meal with Rick (UHDP founder) and Sara (volunteer). Sara said something that caught my attention. She was telling a story about one of the male staffers, a guy named Boncha.

Illumination. It just so happens that Thai people often refer to themselves in the 3rd person. It’s quite normal.

So the next time you’re at a party and you run into someone that you know you should know, but you just can’t remember their name, think of me as you’re nudging your buddy for help.

“Yes, that’s very interesting, but what is this Boncha you speak of?”

The following is the Eulogy that I wrote for my grandfather’s funeral service in December….

Daddy Troy’s Service

If I were preaching and Daddy Troy was in the room there was a routine that would be played out. He would pull me aside at some point before the service and bend my ear, like he’s going to tell me a secret or give me a great speaking tip, he would then hold up his watch to my eye level, so that I wouldn’t miss it, and he would say “Boy, when you see me hold up my watch like this in the service it means you need to sit down.”

He recently reminded me that Jesus valued brevity and secrecy. It’s better to say what you need to say and sit down, and if you pray, it’s better to pray in the secret place than in public. He seemed to think that this was what Jesus had to say about it. I looked on the table at his open Bible, smiled, and assured him that he was correct. And I knew that this was a philosophy that he lived his life by. Daddy Troy was profound and simple and authentic. He worked hard, and he enjoyed laughing with and at his family. He was consistent, always there if you needed him, always who you needed him to be. And, he loved us, deeply.

And we loved him too. We loved him until the end. We valued every moment with him. But I have to say that if you only remember Troy Griffin as he was in his final years, you will have misjudged the memory of a great man.

I am so thankful for my brother Blake’s words. Troy Griffin was indeed many things to many people. He was son, brother, cousin, friend, worker, business owner, father, and husband. But it is difficult for me to remember him as anything other than Daddy Troy. He was my grandfather, and I can only speak of him as his second grandson.

Earlier this week my cousin Jennifer wrote in an email that no one could have asked for a more perfect grandfather. This is true, especially if you are a young man. You see, guys like to have something to brag about. We need to know who’s daddy can beat up who’s daddy. It’s part of the way that we’re made, and one of the greatest things about having Troy Griffin as a grandfather is that there was no contest. Your grandfather may have more money and her grandfather may have a sports car but my grandfather has a barn full of Milky Ways. He was a Candy Man! Beat that!

Remember his face? It was tanned by the sun. His hands were worn by the soil, the cows, the tractor and the fish hooks. He was a man who worked hard from sunrise to sunset; always looking for something to do. When Christy and I moved to Thailand a few months ago to work with farmers, I could only think of him. I called him twice to catch up and to let him know how things were and to say goodbye. He just wanted to know the “Time Difference.” What time is it there? “There’s a 12 hour difference, so when it’s night there it’s morning here. “Well, I’ll say,” he would reply. He would only ask me three more times in each conversation. Partly fascinated, partly trying to remember. I would laugh, and then I would make sure that he knew I was working on a farm. He always wondered when I was going to do some real work, because preachers; he liked to joke, only worked a little on Sundays.

I saw him in the face of almost every hill tribe farmer in Thailand, and I hoped that he was proud of me.

I know that he was. He was a man who loved deeply and quietly. The last time I saw him he kept asking when I was going to be home again. I think we both knew that I was there to say goodbye. I hugged him and told him that I loved him. He said “Uh huh.” That’s Troy Griffin for “I love you too. Very much.”

Some might mistake his quiet demeanor and his straight face for a lack of love. This would be a great mistake, for it was his usual quietness that accentuated his great love.

When he laughed, and he loved to laugh, you knew that he truly thought something was funny, because he couldn’t hold it in. He laughed hard and he laughed deep.

He worked hard, and he expected you to work hard too. He never seemed to stop unless, that is, there were grandkids or great grand kids in the house. Then he would stop and sit and take us all in, watching quietly and smiling. There’s a picture on display at Hanner’s that captures this perfectly. His arms stretched gently around young Karen and Jennifer; a knowing smile upon his face.

And when we sat on his knee there was no doubt that he loved us, because this man who usually held his words and his expressions, would smile, with his mouth full of those false teeth, he would begin to bounce his knee and he would sing, LOUD, Johnson had an old grey mule, his name was simon slick and every where that Johnson went the mule was sure to kick….and he also sang about not spitting on the floor and using the caspidorya. It took me years to figure out what the heck a caspidorya was.

He loved a good prank. I’ve heard stories of him hiding dead fish in the backs of his friends cars, so I know that he has always loved a good prank, but I think that when his grandchildren came along he decided to focus his mischief upon us.

Nothing brought him more happiness than to torture us. You remember those Easter egg hunts. They got a little more ridiculous every year. He got to where he would go out and just throw eggs onto other people’s property, across barbwire fences. He knew we would look for them because we knew there was money in them. If he was going to pay for the hunt, he was going to get as much mileage out of it as possible.

One year, and we have this on video, we had all found our eggs except for Jana and Charles Jr. They begged him to end the hunt and show them the eggs. He wouldn’t budge. Our parents begged him. He wouldn’t budge. It began to ran, hard. My grandmother begged him. He would not budge. The hunt went on for hours. Jana finally found her egg in the middle of a haystack. Charles Jr. looked on. Finally, hours later, he revealed the location of the egg. He had buried it.

He loved his God. Deeply and quietly. He never wanted to be on stage or to have a title in the church, but he did love to mow the grass outside when he could. And when you think about it, this was one of the holiest things he could have done.

He never missed a Sunday, if he could help it. He loved this place and he loved his friends here. I still have a clear memory of him, standing outside those doors on a Sunday morning, talking with 3 or four men, smoking. And in that memory of a man, laughing with his brothers in Christ, waiting for worship, smoking a cigarette, I learned something about what it means to be authentic and real. He was never anything other than who he was.

He and my grandmother had a morning ritual. He woke up at about 5 am or earlier, he got dressed and she cooked breakfast. He smoked somewhere in there, to be sure, and then they opened the Bible. My dad remembers that they took turns reading to each other. He did this every morning. He still did it after she died. That, my friends, is a quiet devotion and an abiding love for God that I do not know, but I someday hope to realize.

He loved his kids. I’ve heard too many stories about the exploits of Judy, Jan and Jo. And yet, no matter what, he was always there for them, loving him in his way. He was stearn, but he was unwavering in his commitment to being the man he needed to be in their lives.

He loved his wife with a love that I pray to God for. I don’t think I realized this until she died. To me, they were not really married. They weren’t husband and wife. They were my grandparents. But then, in the hospital when she died I looked into his eyes, I listened to his voice, and I knew that he had just lost his great love. And when she died a great piece of him died with her, I believe, every day that she was gone. This may seem tragic, but it wasn’t, it was beautiful. How many men do you know that have opened themselves to loving a woman this deeply?

Troy Griffin lived his dream. From the outside one might look at this simple life, lived mostly close to home, where every place was “too far outside of Cass County for him,” and doubt this. But he did it all. Troy Griffin lived his dream and was satisfied.

In fact, I think Daddy Troy is best remembered in “our gathering here together.” I don’t know if he would like us standing on stage here talking about him. I’ve certainly talked too long by his estimation. But he would have been pleased with our gathering.

How many times did we gather at his table, pulling out those table extensions to enlarge the table, unfolding tables for the living room, fitting around the bar in his kitchen to enjoy his wife’s, grandmommy’s cooking? I believe that in our gathering with him to share a meal, to be loud, especially the Flint’s, and to laugh together, he experienced the deep satisfaction of realizing that he was living out his ultimate dream.

He loved us and he was loved by us, and in the gift of God bringing us all together we made memories with him that shaped us all and that will last forever.

Today as we gather here in this church and beyond it to remember my grandfather, let us be grateful for one another, let us enjoy being together, let us laugh, let us be loud, and let us linger. For in that, we are honoring the life of Troy Griffin by living out his dream for us. We are enjoying his gift to us, God’s gift to us, which is our Life together.

Most people never realize their life dreams, and even when they do, they always want more, they are never truly satisfied. Troy’s Griffin’s ambition was to be rich in family and for his family to be together. He realized his dream and he was truly satisfied.

His legacy is not in his land or in his money, but it lives on in us, his friends and his family.

He was a man who loved and who was loved and he will be missed, and in the end, in this life and beyond it, THAT is really what matters.

These past few weeks have been unexpected and crazy and wonderful. It started with grieving. My grandfather passed away on my birthday. I anticipated this would happen. The last time I saw him I said goodbye. I called him twice from Chiang Mai and tried to revel in every strained word. I’ve tried to pay attention and to remember, knowing that every word, every memory with him, might be my last.

My brother called me with the news that evening. All I could do was to listen and to offer to help in anyway that a man who lives across an ocean can. Attending the funeral would not be possible. The ticket would be expensive, yes, but in addition to this the funeral was only a few days away, it was a weekend and a Thai holiday and my passport was in another city. Even if I could afford a ticket, I was landlocked by the law.

Slowly though, the impossible became possible. My parents offered to buy a plane ticket for me and a man who was in another country agreed to meet me at midnight in Bangkok on Sunday with my passport. I would fly out on Monday morning at 6 am. All of this was decided on Sunday afternoon.

So, I grieved with my family. I arrived in Atlanta, Texas late on the eve of Daddy Troy’s funeral. I enjoyed the reunion with my family. I slept. I woke six hours later to fed-ex Christy’s passport to her (she would be making the trip for Christmas after all), to visit my grandfather at the funeral home, and to write my part of the Eulogy. I delivered the Eulogy less than two hours after wrote and printed it. I edited my draft from a church pew as my brother delivered part 1.

Since the funeral and until I arrived in Chiang Mai a few days ago, I enjoyed many reunions with family and friends. Everything was unexpected. Every moment was cherished. I enjoyed every handshake, every hug, every smile, every conversation, and every morsel of the often greasy and excessive American meals.

So much of what I love in this life resides upon American soil. Family and friends; Church and Memory. Tex-Mexican food. Overpriced coffee made to be consumed with close friends in shops dressed like living rooms. Book Stores. Christmas tradition.

Thanks be to my mother for loving us all and for being a Griffin.

Thanks be to my friends for making the time to be with me and, to some of them, for posturing as if they were the ones who were receiving the blessing. There was a time when seeing each other was no big deal, just the normal stuff. Those days will come again.

When the clock struck zero on my visit to America, I was ready to go. I didn’t dash away. I took a long look. I left with the sense that there was purpose for me there, at home, but the time for that ripens still. There are things to do in Thailand. There is life to be lived here. I know that there are days beyond these days, but I mustn’t look beyond these or long for those. Life is too short for that.

Waiting; Expectation: these are good things, but to wait for life is to wait for death.

Strangely, this is the devil that tempts me most.

Lord, help us to live. Let us not lose one more day waiting for tomorrow.

When I started this blogging project David mentioned that he’d like for me to keep an updated list of prayer requests here. I’ve tried to keep that link and the other links updated in recent months. Please feel free to check in on my reading list and our prayer requests when you think about it. If you check it and its out of date, please let me know.

I can now officially tell you that Christy did make it home for the holidays. I originally wrote this part of our holiday story in the last email, but was quickly asked by Christy to delete it. She wanted to suprise some of her friends. I didn’t make this easy on her, sending out a myspace bulletin, then writing a blog, then sending a newsletter where I mentioned that she indeed did get to make the trip. I was thrice scolded for my mistake. Thanks to the fancy footwork of Christy and the husbands of said friends, she was able to pull off the surprise.

Christy’s trip was almost as unlikely as my own. The night I arrived her Dad and I decided to fly her in. The only problem was that I had her passport in my possession. Christy was told that Fed Ex could get her passport to her from the States in 48 hours. She bought a ticket. It turned out that the 48 hour info was a little off. I awoke the next morning and Fed Exed the document. We held our breath and checked fedex.com all week as the passport traveled to greet her in Chiang Mai.

I am so thank ful for the blessing of these past few weeks. I expected my grandfather to pass this year. I did not expect to be at his funeral, to participate in the eulogy, and to spend Christmas with family and friends in the United States.

It was wonderful to spend time catching up with many of you. For those of you that made the time to meet with me, I am truly grateful. It was wonderful to spend time with my family and with Christy’s. It was also a sweet blessing to catch up with Daniel, Micah, Craig, Brian, Scott, Burt, Mark, Patrick, Jason, Kami, Robert, James, Misty, Cory, Marlene, and Megan.

For those of you that I missed, I am so sorry that our plans did not intersect. Our next reunion will be even sweeter than the last.

I’m now sitting on a couch in Chiang Mai, Thailand. Christy is still in the States. Please remember her as she travels back to me on January 5th, 6th, and 7th. Some of you have been watching the news and you know that we have a little trouble in Thailand these past few days. The first set of bombs actually went off in Bangkok while I was there. Someone threw a grenade into a mosque in Chiang Mai yesterday. I trust this will pass soon. I’m safe. No worries.