Clearer.

In the heart of that dusty busy city, in the Emergency department of a developing nation, the dust in my head, once swirling, settled down and found clarity. In Cambodia, I found a still quiet voice amidst the blood, gore and shouting, which brought me close again to that quiet place within me.

For a long time, I had struggled with regards to whether or not to specialize further. With my foot halfway into one of the most competitive specialties in one of the most popular departments, so many people urged me to sign up for the rigorous five-year training programme in Ophthalmology. It is a glamorous, prestigious specialty. I like the subject. No other clinical specialty has captured my imagination like this has. What was stopping me?

Prestige. Academic rigor. Promise of a comfortable life. All these weighed against a life dedicated to the mission field, being with and loving the poor. What many missionaries told me was right after all- the longer you stay, the more you find reason to. Furthering one’s studies, specializing to become a specialist, raising a family… aren’t bad things at all. But the dangerous thing about holding onto good, is missing out on God’s best.

On that little dirt road in Cambodia standing next to Cliff, I suddenly had an epiphany. The story that had so stirred my spirit for many weeks flashed back into my mind, and at once things made sense. A few weeks ago, Cliff and I watched a sermon online. A woman was justifying her decision to leave her church ministry after struggling between working in a prestigious company or serving a ministry at church full-time. “It’s so clear to me now,” she said. “Out of 300 applicants who applied for this highly sought-after job, I got selected! This is where God has my future for me!” It made sense, and I do think many of us think this way. Often, we choose doors opened to us and walk through them. But it was the pastor’s response which struck me, because he said, “It’s so clear to me too. Why would you want to take a job that 299 other people are dying to do when there is role here that so desperately needs you now?”

This story is taken out of context, but it resonated with me tremendously. I needn’t look far to see how highly sought after my place in Eye is. My place could easily be filled by another. Not only that, someone else more studious, more meticulous would easily do as good as or a better job than me. Yet, when you take a step back in the mission field and look at the needs, one shudders to realize how scant help can be.

 Girls and children are sold daily in Cambodia to brothels. Young boys and girls are hit. During our time there, we visited children at a Safe House, where little children were kept safe from being hit, or sexually assaulted by their family. Little Ruthie, an energized little girl who couldn’t stop beaming from ear to ear and who hugged like a bear, had been raped over and over because she was mentally slow. Little Li, a young boy of seven who was hit and punched in the tummy at every mealtime by his parents, chortled and laughed whenever we held him. A ministry called Daughters of Cambodia, which empowers young girls to walk away from prostitution and provides them with jobs impressed upon our hearts a deep burden to make a difference. In a place like this, we saw the great need, and the few people who were willing to go the distance.

Kris left home in Europe to serve at the Safe House. She was a young, bright and pretty blonde girl. She could have furthered her studies, got married, carried on with her life in the UK, but she didn’t. She left because of the call to serve.

Ellie left home with her husband to start a beautiful organisation to help sex workers leave their trade. Using her skills as a psychologist, she provides counselling and uses art therapy to help the girls heal, while equipping them with skills to work at a factory, shop or café. For all the years she laboured, her husband lost his way and fell into temptation, running away with a prostitute. Still, in spite of the trauma, pain and hurt from what has happened, the call beckons Ellie and she continues to serve, to love, to sacrifice.

These individuals are great not because they are highly intelligent, or hold great degrees or graduated summa cum laude. They are great because they were willing to lay things down, to lay themselves down, for a cause greater than themselves, even when it came at a price.

 Am I willing to pay that price?

During my years of growing up, I thought I might never get married. I was certain I would climb up ranks, work in a big organisation. After all, I was Head Prefect and Vice-President of the students’ council. I had dreams and wanted to get what I wanted. But I learnt, that chasing after the wind ends in loss. It always ends in loss. I saw how selfish our ambitions are, and how people, particularly in so-called noble professions like doctoring, hide their self-centred ambition under a veil of apparent goodwill. We specialize, we delve deeper, we subspecialize, we climb up, we earn more. The higher we climb, the smaller the population of people we actually do help. This is particularly true in medicine, where subspecialists write referals to general practitioners because they aren’t confident enough to dispense flu medication.

How many of us are willing to humble ourselves on lower ground at the price of personal pride? Public health has a bad name because its not a glamourous job. Why do public education and earn little when one can subspecialize, gain admiration and earn more? But we forget, that our calling should be where the need is. And the need, should not be ours.

To help others, are we willing to pay the price? Can we truly love while preserving ourselves always and forever and putting ourselves first?

Now why would you do something like that? Is a common expression you might receive if you lived life this way. After all, in a society which values self-achievement, status and prestige, letting go, giving up, and laying it down simply aren’t fashionable at all. I won’t forget the look of utter disbelief and shock that a senior gave me one day when I shared with him how I put aside going to John Hopkins this year to pursue a Masters in Public Health to get married this year instead. You did what? But why? I mean, you can always get married later.

To him, it was important to secure the degree. But to me, our being together was priceless. It meant our ministry, our joint calling to missions and fulfilling the purpose we knew God had for our lives together, combined.

Our characters shape our priorities, and vice versa.

 

 In the heart of that dusty busy city, in the Emergency department of a developing nation, the dust in my head, once swirling, settled down and found clarity. In Cambodia, I found a still quiet voice amidst the blood, gore and shouting, which brought me close again to that quiet place within me.

 

Should I apply for this training programme or that training programme? It suddenly became clear to me, that I had a responsibility to hone the gifts and talents that God gave me, and not just the ones I thought would bring me most honor, or comfort, or pleasure-my gifts are not just in medicine, but they lie more in the arts, in teaching children, in writing and painting books for causes, in doing ministry in missions. It became apparent, that for every decision we choose, we also make the decision to not choose another, and choosing what is good, can very often hinder God’s best for us. It became clear to me, that I had to lay down and to let go, to go lower and stay humbler.

 

In Cambodia on a dusty road, things became clearer to me.