VULNERABLE MISSION

MISSIO DEI 4.1 (FEBRUARY 2013): 81–88
narratives. While some of those who learned from me sorted out how to communicate
like a Westerner, their Cambodian audience looked at them with blank stares.
I had made a huge mistake. I imported my resources and modes of teaching and communication.
It was time for me to be the vulnerable one—not them.
I gathered up all my Western-oriented materials that I had written in the local language,
tossed them in a cabinet, locked the door, and threw away the key. Then I started asking
the Cambodians the Moses-type question: “What do you have in your hand?” The
Cambodians revealed, “We have stories, drama, symbols, rituals, parables, riddles, ditties,
poetry, music, songs, and dance.” Indeed, these were the resources of communication
that the Cambodians could use for all aspects of ministry: planting the gospel,
discipleship, training, teaching, counseling, and so forth. My duty as a missionary was to
recognize, affirm, and learn how to use their local resources. I liken the missionary’s role
to that of a cheerleader. We do not have to tell others how to play the game or play it for
them, rather we cheer them on saying, “You can do it!”
I entered the Cambodian church and looked for a place to sit down. My favorite time
of the week was when I could praise and worship God with Cambodians in the local
language. While I was worshiping, I noticed a Cambodian man worshiping in a
way different from all the others. I curiously leaned over to take a closer look. At that
moment, I realized that the man was blind. Unlike the others, his posture represented
pronounced reverence. He worshipped God the exact way a Cambodian would behave
in the presence of a king or someone important: bowed lowly, no eye contact, and both
hands tightly pushed together, pressed against the chest. The others worshipped standing
straight up, seemingly making eye contact with God, and hands lifted upward with
armpits showing. This experience would not be so bad, if I were not the one who planted
the church.
I had made another a huge mistake. I imported my form of Western worship. Why? I
knew better, but I wanted to plant a church before I could grasp the indigenous music of
Cambodia. Since a real church needed formal worship—so I thought—I took a shortcut
and introduced some Western songs translated into the Cambodian language and modeled
modes of worship from my experience in North America.
Again, I should have asked the Cambodians, “What is in your hand?” They would have
answered, “A roneat, a pia, a chapey, a tro, a skor. We use pinpeat, chreing chapey narrative
singing, ayai repartee singing, shadow plays, melodies that tell stories, lullabies, mohori ensembles,
plengkar, ramvong, and so forth.” I should have continued to ask, “What is the
most culturally relevant form of worship for you?”
It was time for me to be the vulnerable one—learn, adapt, and facilitate the Cambodians
to produce their own indigenous hymnody: “a body of hymns and spiritual songs which
are composed by members of an ethnic group and thought of as being their own.” 4
A local Cambodian pastor requested that I work alongside of him to train a church
planting team. I remember the first training session well. I made the following request:
“Please, each one of you share your story of how you came to know and walk with
4 Brian Schrag and Paul Neeley, All the World Will Worship: Helps for Developing Indigenous Hymns, 3rd ed. (Duncanville,
TX: EthnoDoxology Publications, 2005), 3.
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