I went to say goodnight to my house mother, Nima, and she asked me if I heard the chanting. I told her yes, and I asked what it meant. She told me it meant someone had died. She said in Thailand the monks chant a blessing over the dead in hopes that they will make it to heaven. I felt dread well up inside me as she spoke. Someone had died...like actually died, and the probability of them knowing Christ was very slim.
Nima went on to say that she knew the man who died. He was old and had been very sick, and she and her husband had been visiting him in the hospital, taking him food, and telling him about Jesus. Recently, the man had actually accepted Christ!! In this moment I was both happy and sad.
True, this one man knew the Lord before he died...but what about all the other people in Thailand who die without our Savior? I cannot speak their language... I can't tell them the good news, but I can pray. The Lord just spoke to my heart and He asked me why He had to send me all the way across the world to a people group I can't communicate with to realize the importance of praying for the lost. He also made me realize that I have been so complacent in the comfort of America. I CAN speak English...so why am I not spreading the gospel everywhere I go? Why am I not on my knees in fervent prayer everyday for the lost.
Please be in prayer with me for the lost around us and around the world!