“All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.” — Gandalf, The Fellowship Of The Ring

Well, this trip has served as a boot camp for patience and flexibility. Thanks to Covid, it took us forever to get here. We endured delays, cancellations and round after round of rescheduling. But we finally got here. And boy, is it good to be back.

Unfortunately, once we got here, Covid struck out at us again, and I tested positive. Although my case was minor, it took the Thai section of our planned itinerary and threw it in the toilet. So, we’re spending an extra two weeks in Cambodia.

And that’s really not the worst thing in the world. I love this country. And my time in mandatory coronavirus quarantine wiped out an entire week of visits with the kids and staff at our six Prek Eng homes. Now we can get some of that time back. But my Thai staff and kids are bitterly disappointed, and I’ve missed graduation parties, staff outings and even a wedding. 

I’ve already promised my Thai staff that we’ll be sure to visit Thailand in the summer, but certain moments are gone and can’t be recovered. So, in the words of Gandalf, “All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.”

With the white wizard’s wise words in mind, Benjamin and I are going to do a lot of the same stuff we started out doing here in the ’Bodia: shoot lots and lots of video, take tons of photos, eat as much as we can and spend every evening at our Prek Eng campus, playing soccer, Simon Says, and whatever other games we or the kids come up with.

The extra time here reminds me of days past when we could really get to know kids by name and on a personal level. Tonight we’re headed to the Prek Eng 6 home, sponsored by Vineyard Columbus. We’ll play for a couple hours, enjoy dinner cooked by the home staff and then, who knows? We’ll probably dance. That seems to be the evening schedule these days. And it’s pretty great.

Far too late for optimally safe driving, we’ll trundle back to our hotel and collapse into our beds before doing it all again tomorrow. Only difference? Tomorrow’s a Saturday, so we’ll probably spend all day with the kids and head home a little earlier in the afternoon to give me time to prepare my sermon for Sunday morning.

It’s busy and it’s tiring. And as much as I can’t wait to get home to see my family, sleep in my own bed and take a real bath, I’m going to miss this — a lot. So we’re going to wring as much out of these last few days as we can, and then I’ll be back in the states. I hope to hit the ground running, fundraising-wise. We have a lot of big plans for the future of Asia’s Hope, but costs are rising here in Asia just like they are at home, and we can’t stretch a dollar quite as far as we could last year. So if you know anyone who should be supporting or partnering with Asia’s Hope, please introduce me. I’d love to invite more people into this joyful, surprising adventure.

john@asiashope.org 614.804.6233

We’ve been sprinting for about three weeks and we really haven’t let up. My plan was to just keep pushing on, finish out our time in Cambodia strong and hit Thailand with the same amount of gusto.

Only hitch in that plan? My body says, “No.”

A couple of days ago I started feeling a bit weak. Yesterday morning — Sunday — I tried to contact Savorn and let him know I wouldn’t be able to preach, but he didn’t get my message until I was already at the church.

So I did preach. Sort of. It was considerably lower-energy than I usually bring to the pulpit. Most notably, I did my sermon sitting down. And at a very, very low volume. Benjamin and I had planned to do staff and university student video interviews before enjoying a celebratory reunion lunch for kids returning to our campus from their colleges in the city, and some of our university graduates who already entered the workforce.

Instead, Benjamin did those interviews – and I took a nap. Later — I’m not sure how long it was — I got up from my brief and insufficient repose and feigned a degree of vigor, buoyed no doubt by my excitement to spend time with these kids whose happy childhood has been my last 20 years’ primary calling.

I got my favorite souvenirs of the trip, photos of these beautiful young adults whose lives God has woven into mine through some mysterious working of his will that has left me stunned with gratitude.

And then, after somehow making it back to my hotel in Phnom Penh, I basically crashed. Well, if I remember correctly, we did have dinner. And then I crashed. And I woke up this morning with a ‘freight train runnin’ through the middle of my head’ as Bruce Springsteen might have it. Unlike the Boss, my freight train wasn’t piloted by a romantic obsession, rather, by a horrible sinus infection or — I hardly dare speak it’s name — covid.

I’m thrice vaxxed, and the covid rate in Cambodia really isn’t that high. Oh, and we spend almost all of our time outside. So I’m struggling to see how it could be The Virus, but enough of the symptoms match that I’m going to have to consider it. 

I started azithromycin tonight, and if it’s a sinus infection, I expect to be feeling significantly better tomorrow. We have to test for covid on Wednesday anyway, so unless I get worse, I’ll probably wait until then to find out for sure. But unless I have a dramatic improvement, I may be stuck in my hotel room for the rest of my time in the ’Bodia.

I’ll keep you posted. Benjamin is going to coordinate with our staff to keep on track with the video production, and I’m going to do what I can. Which is probably not much of anything. If I do test positive, our trip is pretty much off the rails. We won’t be able to go to Thailand, and I may not be able to return to America until I test negative again.

For now, I’m doing okay. Just a little frustrated. But if I get nothing else from this trip, at least I have these pictures and the sweet time we’ve had with our staff and kids thus far.

We departed Battambang and drove to Siem Reap in record time. The roads have vastly improved over the past three years. And when we got to Siem Reap, the place was unrecognizable. 

We departed Battambang and drove to Siem Reap in record time. The roads have vastly improved over the past three years. And when we got to Siem Reap, the place was unrecognizable. 

The city’s roads are almost completely new. There are pristine, tiled sidewalks everywhere. Almost all of the dirt-and-gravel roads are gone. But that’s not the only thing missing.

The place is a ghost town. 90% of the businesses and restaurants are boarded up, many of them gone for good. And the temples? I’d say that visitors — especially foreign ones — have diminished by at least 95%.

Angkor Wat, the main temple complex, is usually packed. I swear there were no more than 10 of us there on the afternoon we visited. And we were completely alone when we arrived at Ta Prohm, famous for the strangler figs that have overtaken the temple walls.

This is very, very good for visitors to the temples, but very bad for the people whose lives depend on the tourism trade. Selfishly, I’m grateful for the opportunity to photograph Angkor Wat, Ta Prohm and Angkor Thom without the crowds. But I hope for Cambodia’s sake that things return to pre-Covid levels of tourism, and quickly.

I’ve visited Siem Reap probably fifteen times over the past couple of decades, and this is the first time I’ve seen it like this. And it’s also probably the last.

Believe it or not, I used to know the name and bio of every kid at Asia’s Hope. 

Back in 2005 when we had just two homes in Cambodia and one in Thailand, I could pretty reliably give you the child’s name, tell you where they lived, identify their siblings and give you a decent summary of how they came to live at Asia’s Hope.

Today we have 13 homes in Battambang alone — 34 homes across our three countries, more than 800 kids, not including the dozens of local children who attend our schools but live with their biological families. Plus, we’ve added more than 60 new kids since the beginning of this year!

So, yeah. Keeping track of names is hopeless, at least for me.

At times, I’m just the tiniest bit envious of our trip participants. When y’all visit, you come as representatives of sponsoring churches, businesses or families, and you usually spend their entire time at one home. So if you spend a couple of weeks in Battambang, you’re seeing the same kids every day and really get a chance to connect on a deep, personal level.

So even though my trip is 40 days long, I’m really limited to one afternoon or evening at each of our homes. It’s a lot, but I’m making an effort. I show up with a bag of tricks — a wastebasket full of plastic balls, some dry erase markers — and a couple of cameras. And though my time is short, I give it everything I have.

Even though I’m just flying through, I try to connect ever-so-briefly with each of the kids: find out, ask them their age and treat them like they’re the most important kids in the world for the duration of my brief visit.

The kids love me, but they don’t need me. And that’s a very good thing.

Don’t get me wrong. Even though they look forward to greeting visitors from abroad, the most important relationships — by far — are they ones they have with each other and their caretakers: the Asia’s Hope moms and dads and teachers and home staff. 

You and I get to play games and throw parties and sing songs, but we don’t have to get up at 2am when someone has a nightmare or wets the bed. You and I may work hard to make sure these kids have a safe, loving and supportive home, but we’re not responsible for fulfilling their greatest needs on a daily basis. Thankfully, though, the staff of Asia’s Hope has that covered.

So even though none of us will ever know these children the way we wish we could, God has given us an important role nonetheless: to stand behind our staff and kids and make sure that they have the resources they need to create secure and healthy family for kids who once were vulnerable and alone.

And until God’s kingdom comes in its fullness and grants us unlimited time together, this role will be more than enough for me. 

Thank you for everything you do for these precious kids and for the adults who care for them.

If Savorn hadn’t driven us, there’s no way I would have found the little house where, twenty years ago, we started our first Asia’s Hope home. 

Sengyou and Sokhean, Asia’s Hope’s first home parents, at the site of the original Battambang 1 children’s home.

The house as it stood 20 years ago.

---

If Savorn hadn’t driven us, there’s no way I would have found the little house where, twenty years ago, we started our first Asia’s Hope home. 

Battambang, Cambodia is five times as large as it was in 2002. And what was once the sleepy town at the center of a largely rural province is now a bustling city of nearly 250,000 people. 

I know this. I’ve watched the city grow. I’ve driven its streets countless times and marveled at its transformation. But I was shocked to find that this little house, which seemed to me to be well outside of the city proper, down a dirt road, through jungle foliage – is now in the middle of a busy urban neighborhood. The road is paved and lit, and there are neither ambling cattle nor sprawling rice paddies anywhere in sight.

The house itself, however, is just barely recognizable. It’s current owners have built onto it, and it’s crowded on both sides by new neighbors. But it’s definitely the same place. Someone has painted over the old, garish blue. But the shutters are still the same. The wood paneling on the exterior is the same. And if you look in one of the windows along the right hand side of the building, one of the Khmer alphabet charts our staff hung on the wall is still there – dirty and battered, but otherwise undisturbed.

Sengyou and Sokhean, our very first Asia’s Hope home parents, met us there after breakfast. The home’s current occupants were gracious enough to let us poke around the property. We took some photos and video and reflected on our beginnings and on just how far we’ve come.

Oh, the memories this place evokes. The games, songs, meals, storytimes. We’re going to do a sit-down interview with these guys tomorrow and try to get their thoughts on 20 years of ministry with Asia’s Hope. Sometime soon we’ll post that and some of the other videos we’re capturing on this trip.

But today, just walking around the home, there was less talking, more feeling. Sokhean doesn’t speak a lot of English, and my Khmer is way worse than it was, say, three years ago. But I asked her, “Good memories?” She smiled and said, “Yes. Good memories.”

The clock on my phone says it’s 1:30pm. The clock in my body isn’t sure it’s buyin’ that.

After an extraordinarily long day or so of travel, we arrived in Phnom Penh last night at 10:30pm local time. Thanks to a bewildering array of pandemic-related entry restrictions, we got out of the airport at about 12:30am and didn’t get checked into our hotel until around 1:30am.

But thanks to the jetlag, both Benjamin and I were up bright and early at around 6am. By 8:30, we’d already walked almost four miles. We had a delightful breakfast of grilled pork and white rice at a streetside cafe and then returned to our hotel, grabbed the car and headed out to get Cambodian SIM cards and run a few other errands.

I quickly rediscovered my Cambodian driving skills, and made it to the phone shop, tailor (might as well get a few cheap shirts made while in the Penh) and lunch without getting ticketed or damaging any persons or properties..

We had lunch at a fantastic Chinese noodle restaurant and wandered around the Central Market, where Benjamin sampled his first ever dragonfruit.

We’re back at our hotel, supposedly napping. I can’t sleep, but I figure I’ll need whatever energy I can muster to make it to sundown. I’m going to try to stay up as late as I can tonight, get a decent night’s sleep before heading out for Battambang first thing in the morning.
I figure we should make it to Battambang in five or six hours. In the early 2000s, the drive took ten, maybe 12 hours. With massive improvements in road conditions, the drive is now closer to five. But traffic in and around Phnom Penh can be pretty hairy, so we’d like to get on the road pretty early.

It’s been a bit odd not visiting our homes in Prek Eng, but we’ve decided to stay in the city today. I don’t want to be driving back into town late in the evening, falling asleep at the wheel. So we’ll see those guys in about a week after we return from Battambang.

We’ll probably take some GoPro time lapses around Phnom Penh tonight and through the countryside tomorrow. But the real work will begin on Sunday. Speaking of, I suppose I’m probably going to be preaching, and I haven’t the vaguest idea of what I should say. 

More soon.

“Red Light! Green Light!” is a game I’ve enjoyed with kids all around the world. It’s easy to play, simple to teach and requires almost no language skills whatsoever. 

All the players start at one end of a field (or basketball court, or back yard — whatever you have) and the leader shouts, “Green Light!” All of the players rush forward, running as fast as feet can carry. Then the leader yells, “Red Light!” And everyone stops as quickly as possible. Kids collide with one another, fall to the ground with what one hopes are only minor injuries. Those who don’t stop get sent back to the starting line. And just as soon as the clamor begins to subside, it’s “Green Light!” all over again and hilarity ensues.

And so on.

Good times.

Unless, of course, you’re playing the game with suitcases, passports and PCR tests.

Which brings me to today.

After more than two years of pandemic-induced exile from my beloved friends and family in Asia, I was more than ready to jump on a plane just as soon as the powers-that-be in Cambodia and Thailand gave the okey-dokey. 

Lest I bore you with details, I’ll just say that it’s been complicated. 

But I’m thrilled to say that after quite a few cycles of stop-and-go planning, it’s officially “Green Light” for me. So tomorrow at the ungodly hour of 3am, I’ll pop up out of bed, put on my game face and then I’ll head to the airport with our newly-hired Director of Media, Benjamin Hiltner — and a whole lot of camera equipment.

We’re headed to Phnom Penh, then Battambang, then Siem Reap, then Bangkok, then Chiang Mai and Chiang Rai. And then in about five weeks, we’ll be headed back home. If all goes well, we’ll have a couple terabytes of video, about 10,000 photos and a decent set of suntans. 

I can’t wait to get back on the ground in Asia, my home away from home. I miss the smells and flavors, the sights and the sounds. But most of all, I miss the kids and staff of Asia’s Hope. 

A lot has happened in the three years since I last visited Thailand and Cambodia. More than 150 of our kids have graduated high school and moved on to university. Dozens of these young adults have graduated college and started jobs. A bunch have gotten married. A bunch have had kids of their own. And, although I can hardly believe it, we’ve rescued more than 120 new kids, children I’ve never met, except in pictures and bios on a computer screen.

My heart is bursting and right now I’m as restless as a box of bees. Heck, I probably won’t even need the 3am alarm — I can’t imagine I’ll get much sleep at all tonight. 

I’m setting it though, just in case. This trip has had enough obstacles already. 

So please pray for all of the proverbial “traveling mercies.” And follow along for the next five weeks. I promise lots and lots and lots of pictures of Asia’s Hope people and places — and maybe a game or two of “Red Light! Green Light!”

Cheers. And catch you on the flip side.

Preface

Even though I wrote this journal entry 14 and a half years ago — before my daughter, who just started high school, was even born — these sentiments deeply resonate with me today. I’m no longer running a small business — I’ve been full-time at Asia’s Hope for more than a decade — and we’ve grown from 80 kids to almost 850, but I still ask myself the same questions:

How do we make it better?

What’s the next step?

How can we raise the money to accomplish the next thing on our agenda?

With whom shall we partner as we grow?

And still identify deeply with this sentiment:

“You see, this country, this ministry, these kids — they're the reason I keep a job that offers me more flexibility than money. I know beyond a doubt that if I died today, my life would have been worth something.”

More than that, this is still my prayer for you:

I pray for all of you my friends that you would follow God's call on your life enthusiastically, even radically. I'm not trying to set myself up as any sort of role model — I'm so far behind the curve on obedience and faith that I wouldn't dare — but I've tasted just a little bit of the goodness that God wants for all of his children. I've had the chance to be an intern in the family business, an opportunity to drink only a sip of the cup, and I can't help myself from going a bit beyond politeness or subtlety. I'm begging you to get involved.

---

SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 13, 2005

Well, maybe I spoke too soon.

I said I thought I'd licked the bug, but today my tummy's a little ooky. (Dyspeptic, for those of you without kids.) But it's not too bad. Please pray that I continue to regain strength. I have a tough couple of days ahead. More on that later.

When this trip is done, I'll write some sort of retrospective overview. This isn't it. Still, I'm feeling a little reflective today. Indulge me.

This hasn't been the easiest of trips for me. In fact, it's been a lot of work for me and for Dave and Dr. John, the other executive board members who are here. When Asia's Hope started out, it was pretty simple — one or two projects, and we spent our trip encouraging our brothers and sisters and celebrating what God was doing. Lots of time reading to students, conducting clinics and running around with laughing orphans.

We did all of those things this time, but we have spent a lot of energy and time trying to wrap our minds around the complexities that arise with any type of successful endeavor: How do we make it better? What's the next step? How can we raise the money to accomplish the next thing on our agenda? With whom shall we partner as we grow?

We've gotten a lot done that could absolutely not have gotten done if we had stayed in the U.S. and communicated via email. And we've learned A LOT. But it hasn't felt as much like a vacation to me as some of my earlier trips. I feel like I've been at work every single day I've been in Cambodia — even on the days when I've had a relatively free schedule. During my free time, my brain has been in overdrive.

Usually, I return to America feeling refreshed, rejuvenated and 100% ready to jump back into work. I'm not sure that will be my experience this time. I've been sick a lot on this trip, and I've missed a couple of the really fun days with the kids that I had been looking forward to.

Nevertheless, every day in Cambodia is an adventure, and I'm entirely certain that I am in the center of God's will. Last year, after my hospital visit, I said to God and to many of you, "I'd return to Cambodia each year even if I knew I'd get really, really sick." Well, I did get sick again. But I feel the same about my mission to this country. And I'd add to it (Oh, Lord, please don't take me up on this...please!) that I'd return to Cambodia each year even if I had the same kind of financial misfortunes that I had this year.

You see, this country, this ministry, these kids — they're the reason I keep a job that offers me more flexibility than money. I know beyond a doubt that if I died today, my life would have been worth something.

I went to the orphanage this morning. They were having church when we arrived. I put down my bag and sat down at the back of the room. Immediately, three kids scootched over to me, one on each side, one on my lap, and laid their heads on me and sighed. Sophat, a seven year old boy sitting near the front of the room, turned and gave me one of the most genuine, loving smiles I've ever seen.

Last year, Sophat was an orphan. He lived with his aunt, who was destitute. He wasn't in school, he had to work to support himself and his family, and he was hungry every day. Every day. This year, Sophat lives in a beautiful home with a loving staff and an orphanage director who really acts like a father to each of those kids. He has brothers and sisters to play with. He gets a great education. He has plenty of food every day. He's been immunized. He's safe at night. No one shoos him off their footstep or chases him away from their shop. He's not filthy and he's not in danger of succumbing to disease or to sexual abuse or trafficking. Best of all, he knows Jesus loves him, and that he has brothers and sisters in Cambodia and in America who will care for him and send him to college and who are working hard to make a good future for him. He's happy.

I know that God gave me Asia's Hope because He loves me and my family, and wants to use us for His kingdom. I know that if Dave and I (and many others since) hadn't responded to God's invitation in faith, that Sophat and 82 other orphans would have very bleak futures indeed. I believe that there are many other kids like Sophat and Samneang and Soktheun out there in Cambodia and Thailand and who knows where else that God wants to save, and that it won't happen unless you and I don't push into God's will even further and if other Christians don't step up to the plate.

I pray for all of you my friends that you would follow God's call on your life enthusiastically, even radically. I'm not trying to set myself up as any sort of role model — I'm so far behind the curve on obedience and faith that I wouldn't dare — but I've tasted just a little bit of the goodness that God wants for all of his children. I've had the chance to be an intern in the family business, an opportunity to drink only a sip of the cup, and I can't help myself from going a bit beyond politeness or subtlety. I'm begging you to get involved.

Not in Asia's Hope. Or not necessarily. But in something that you can sink your teeth into, that you can invest your time and your talent and your money into. In something that ministers to Jesus by ministering to those he loves. Don't settle for less than all that God wants for you. If you don't have something you feel passionate about, find a passionate, Godly person and get involved in what they're into. It'll rub off on you. I promise!

So, while I might not return relaxed, I think I'll come back recalibrated. And when I begin to drift back into complacency, and when I begin to doubt God's goodness and His plan for my life, I'll log onto this page and read my blog, and I'll look at some of the 2,000 photos I took on this trip, and I'll send another check to Asia's Hope and pray for the day that I can return.

Sorry this has been such a long post. If any of you are still with me at this point, thanks. I really do love you guys.

Tomorrow I leave for the outlying villages. Gary and I will be sitting under a tree, teaching the Bible to new believers for three days. We'll be staying in a nearby town at night, but I don't know if I'll have email access. Please pray for us. We'll need it.

Shalom.

Me in February 2005, at our very first home in Battambang, Cambodia. Most — if not all — of these kids are now grown.

My main main, Sophat, wearing a hat from Element, a company I once owned. Sophat currently lives at our University Student Center in Phnom Penh, Cambodia and is engaged to Rida, a graduate from our Battambang 1 Home.

Me in February 2005 with the kids from our first home in Phnom Penh, the one that would eventually be known as Prek Eng 1.