Love In a Distant Land: Rachel Marie Series Book One

by David B. Smith

  “I want you guys to know that I have really come to love your country,” Pastor Mike began slowly. “It’s a beautiful land, with beautiful scenery, and sweet, beautiful people.” He grinned and added: “And the food here is aroy mahk.” His accent was painfully stiff and a ripple of amusement spread through the rows.

  “But I especially appreciate how a whole country of millions of people can have such love for their king,” he added, glancing behind him to where a portrait of Thailand’s monarch adorned the wall. “Here is a person who has led your kingdom with such wisdom and earned your deep respect. It’s something I wish my nation could learn to understand better. Being here with you has given me many things to think about.”

  He reflected with the students for a few minutes about the duties of a king and how throughout history the person chosen to occupy the palace would try to lead and uplift the people and improve their lives. “Here again, citizens of Thailand are so blessed. I do envy all of you young people.”

  Pastor Mike took a step closer to them and Khemkaeng, still translating the last line, followed. “But you know, we just heard Ratana sing a song about something truly amazing. Something that has happened only once in the history of our world. You see, I sent an email to Bangkok Christian School three weeks ago. I asked: ‘Who’s your best singer among the seniors?’ And Mr. Garvey replied: ‘Well, of course, it’s Ratana. She sings just like one of God’s angels in heaven.’” The students grinned even before the translation.

  “And I emailed Ratana and your guitar guys here a copy of this song. Amazing Love. I wanted this song, because I was so sure that of all the young people everywhere who are thinking about their future lives and the big decisions they have to make, you guys here at BCS would be able to understand this amazing thing: a king who dies for us. You see, this is not just a sweet song on the radio. It’s not just something that is pairaw.”

  There was another ripple of laughter, and Mike acknowledged their giggles with a wave of his hand. “Believe me, if any song I’ve ever heard was pairaw, melodious and sweet, it was Ratana’s singing today. But this is not just a sweet song where the tune touches our heart and where the words are tender in our souls.” He waited while Khemkaeng struggled to put the elusive thought into Thai, and then concluded: “No. This song shares the most important reality I’ve ever discovered. A king has died for me, and a king has died for you. And this, you guys, is an amazing and beautiful truth. The best truth I have ever found. A king, a real king, who has a palace and a throne, has died for me. How can that be?”

  Rachel Marie, deeply stirred, felt her eyes beginning to puddle up again and she edged closer to the pillar for support. Please, Jesus. Praying from the very recesses of her soul, almost without words, she implored heaven to bless her dear friend as he translated and as he himself absorbed Pastor Mike’s invitation.

  “There’s something American preachers always struggle with,” he confessed as he set his Bible down on his own vacated chair and began to share earnestly from his heart. “Here it is. Many of you might think: ‘Oh, here comes this man from the U.S. with his Disneyland and his Los Angeles Lakers and also his great American religion. And he wants for us to leave Buddhism behind for his great American religion.’ Have any of you felt like that this week?” Many of the kids nodded, half-smiling, and he gestured as if to say: Okay–this is where we all are together.

  “And you want to say: ‘Hey. Pastor Mike. We are Thai people. Buddhism is our way, and it’s just as good as your big Disneyland kind of Christianity.’” He smiled, gently teasing himself, and the students noticed, their guard relaxing.

  “I have done some studying,” he added. “And I have a wonderful, lasting respect for the deep faith of Buddhist people. Your goodness. Your honesty. Your focus on simple living and on doing well for your fellow man. The teachings of Buddha have blessed your parents and your families and, yes, your nation of Thailand. So then, why do I travel here and talk about a king who dies for us?”

  Pastor Mike gave an appreciative glance at his translating partner before continuing. “I came here because kids in my country have pain and broken hearts, and kids in your country have pain and broken hearts. We have war; you have war. We have divorce; you have divorce. We have selfish men who use and hurt young girls; you have your Patpong Road where the prostitutes in the go-go bars are forced to sell their bodies for a few baht.” An abrupt wall of stillness met the frank reference to Bangkok’s notorious red-light district, and Pastor Mike paused.

  “Yes. I read about Patpong Road and what happens to Thai people here and it makes me want to cry. The pain on Patpong Road is real. It is evil. It breaks God’s heart. See, you young people know. You’re not fools. You’re not blind. You know that selfishness and stealing and death are universal. That’s not an American thing, and it’s not a Thai thing. It’s an earth thing. This world is broken, and the God you and I both worship, the God in heaven, loves us so much he wants to fix it. He wants to heal our broken hearts. He wants to give you a new life, an eternal life. He loves Thai young people so much he wants to give each of you cheewit niran. Eternal life.”

  For a long moment the American visitor simply stood before them, vulnerable and affectionate. His gaze moved from the ninth graders in the front three rows to the mature seniors, just a few short months away from selecting universities and moving on with the major life choices that beckoned. “What happens,” he slowly asked, “if you become a Christian? Because I traveled to Bangkok to invite you to become Christian men and women. I confess that. This is why I am here.”

  Khemkaeng hesitated, then dutifully gave the appeal.

  “To become Christian,” Mike said softly, “is not to betray your great Thai heritage. It is not an abandoning of the important principles in Buddhism that make you such a beautiful people. It is not a rejection of your family’s identity. It is a simple statement: ‘I am a person whose life has broken things in it, and I need a king to die for me. I want the dying of Jesus to bring me forgiveness and the promise of eternal life.’”

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out some money. “Here is a hundred baht. This is Thai money. Here”–and he fumbled in another pocket–“is five dollars. This is American money. And when this world ends, all our money will be worthless.” He wadded both bills into tiny balls and dropped them on the ground. “But please listen to me. Jesus is not American. We did not invent Jesus. Jesus is the Son of God, the King who died for people in my country and people in your country. Amazing love, how can it be? That you, my King–our King–should die for all of us?”

  Mike bowed his head for a long moment as a poignant stillness swept throughout the auditorium. After glancing over at the pillar where Rachel Marie was huddled in prayer, he concluded soberly: “I came to you this week because Jesus is an amazing friend. An amazing King. An amazing gift. He is the best gift I ever found in my life and I flew to Bangkok to tell you that I was a broken man who needed salvation, and I found it in Jesus. That’s amazing love. Your parents sent you to a Christian school in Bangkok because they believed that you would find something better here than anywhere else. Well, this is what it is–Jesus. And if you go to your parents now and tell them, ‘Kuhn Paw, Kuhn Mae, you want for me to have the very best life . . . and I have found it in this amazing King who died for me,’ I truly believe your parents will understand. And perhaps will even join you.”

  Wanting to see and to take in this hallowed moment, Rachel Marie moved away from the pillar. Dear God, something is happening to Khemkaeng. As Pastor Mike shared so wistfully, her friend’s Thai phrases followed. Line upon line, cadence matching cadence. The grammar and the syntax of the appeal were precisely processed and shared.

  But now, even with the barest of a Thai vocabulary in her mind, Rachel Marie sensed a deepening, a longing, in Khemkaeng’s voice. The man wasn’t translating, he was wrestling. There was a holy pause, a divine interruption, as each nugget of the invitation penetrated his own heart, tenderly confron
ting and challenging. A husky kind of awe began to overcome the lines as if he was now preaching himself out of the raw wrestling of his own midnight questions.

  “So this is the moment we came here to face,” Pastor Mike said. “Are some of you ready to choose? Amazing love–a king named Jesus has died for you. You can live forever, healed and made well and made perfect, if you choose him. And you can choose him right now. Today. There’s no reason to wait any longer.”

  Until this moment, the back and forth of the translated sermon had followed the predictable pattern of all such gospel messages. A line at a time–English, then Thai. Like the simple algebra functions in Rachel Marie’s math class, where the words of one dialect went in, and the proper Asian expression came out.

  But now Khemkaeng held back. Pastor Mike’s entire appeal was simply out there, waiting in the space of this holy arena as Rachel Marie wordlessly prayed.

  And then he spoke. Not translating, but as himself, a Thai man who loved his people, Khemkaeng faced the throng of young students and revealed his true thoughts, slowly and then with a growing conviction. Twice as he shared, he pointed at his own heart, nodding and gesturing. Several girls on the front row began to cry. Pastor Mike, mystified but calm, simply waited as his new friend delivered his personal soliloquy.

  Realizing something precious and deep was happening, Rachel Marie stepped away from her hiding place. She began to move toward Khemkaeng when he suddenly saw her, his face strangely glowing. Turning to face the students again, he said in his near-perfect English: “Today this is my choice. I am a Thai citizen, such as all of you are. But I accept Jesus Christ as my King.” He looked at his American lady friend, then added: “And now I am set free.”

  Rachel Marie came to him, overwhelmed with tears of holy praise. She took his arm with her left hand and buried her face in his shoulder. Four hundred students were watching, but she no longer cared. “I love you,” she whispered.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Sukhoom, one of the shorter boys, sidled up to her desk with a pained look on his face.

  “What is it?”

  “Missie Stone, may I go to toilet?”

  She tried to mask a smile. Her students in 6C couldn’t seem to comprehend that “bathroom” was a more socially palatable vocabulary word. “We’ll be out of here in five minutes. Can you wait that long?”

  It posed a formidable decision, and his entire body seemed to dance anxiously. “I think so. But not easy.”

  Rachel Marie grinned. “Oh, go on then. But try to plan better next time, okay?”

  “Yes. Sorry.” He edged toward the door, trying to keep nearby females from noticing.

  When her brood of twenty-eight kids was all lined up by their desks, she eyed them warmly. “You guys were so good this week. Pastor Mike really appreciated it and I did too.”

  Her badminton partner raised a timid hand.

  “Yes, Daeng?”

  “Missie Stone, did students in high school become Christian?”

  The question startled her. “I think . . . quite a few of them did. Uh huh. And Mr. Chaisurivirat too, which is awesome news.”

  “But can students in 6C also become?”

  Rachel Marie breathed a prayer before responding. “Well, you know, there comes a time for all of us when we get to choose what our faith will be. I became a Christian when I was about your age, so, yes, that’s a decision each of you can make someday very soon.”

  “You are Christian?” Siroj asked the question.

  “Oh, you know that!” She injected a bit of teasing scold into her voice and the students all laughed. “I’ve told you a million stories about Jesus.”

  “Okay.” He grinned. “But sometimes teacher only talk about Jesus because it is job. Like Mr. Cey.”

  “How’d you know about him?”

  “My sister tell me. He is teacher here for long time. But not Christian.”

  “Uh huh.” She peeked at the clock. “Well, that’s actually something I’m happy about. God never forces a person to be one faith or another one, and neither does BCS. I prayed to God real hard before making my choice and so can each of you.” Rachel Marie gave a tiny head shake to two other students with hands in the air. “Hey, come on, you guys. It’s past time to dismiss. Can your questions keep until Monday?”

  Both nodded, and she offered a short closing prayer before shooing them out the door.

  Rachel Marie was grateful for the welcome stillness which soon enveloped her building. She leaned back in her chair, subdued music wafting through the school’s central PA system. It was nice to leisurely go through the kids’ English papers, jotting an occasional note of encouragement or dropping in a happy face next to a child’s grade. Most of them seemed to have grasped the day’s lessons, and she made a mental note to send Yothin a small gratuity demonstrating her appreciation for supervising her kids.

  Rachel Marie finished the stack and filed them away with the other papers for returning to pupils. There was a lingering sweetness filling the room as she remembered that morning’s assembly and Khemkaeng’s poignant confession of Jesus. Even though his commitment had seemed a foregone conclusion for several weeks, it had still been a climactic moment of joy for her, and she felt her eyes misting again.

  There were footsteps in the hallway, the solid heaviness of a man’s step, and she dared to hope it might be him. My dear Khemkaeng . . .

  He stood in the doorway, still wearing the same exquisite charcoal pinstripe suit with a white linen shirt and muted necktie. His face held a trace of something new and wonderfully aware. “May I come in?”

  “Of course. Hi.” She came over and took his hand in both of hers, lifting it to her cheek. “I was waiting.”

  He found the one adult chair and sat down after waiting for her to be seated. “Thank you,” he told her.

  “For . . .”

  Khemkaeng managed a smile. “It was very good for me when you came today. As I translated into Thai for Pastor Mike, I could see you there. And I realized you were praying for me.”

  “I know.” Her voice softened. “I was praying for you to translate with all of your ability and wisdom.”

  “Yes.”

  “But also that you would feel God’s invitation in your own heart. That Pastor Mike’s message would have meaning for you too.”

  “And it did.” He leaned forward and took her hand. “All that he said–and then adding to all that you have shared with me, Rachel Marie–it gave me a very clear invitation.” Khemkaeng gave her a smile which threatened to explode her heart into a thousand joy-filled pieces. “Now I am so happy.”

  She smiled, feeling a delicious rush of affection. “Well, I’ll tell you what. I think we should celebrate.”

  His eyes lit up. “Really?”

  “Absolutely. Back at New Hope, Pastor Mike used to say that every time a person comes to Jesus, heaven has a massive party. So I think we should too.”

  Khemkaeng grinned. “Okay. I have one thousand BCS things I should do, but this one thing with you I would much rather do.”

  “All right then.” She glanced over at the classroom wall clock. “Note the time, Mr. Chaisurivirat. Here is my offer. You pick up your American lady friend at six o’clock. You select the place, and tonight, I, Rachel Marie Stone, will pay the bill.”

  “Never!” He pretended to be offended. “How can this be?”

  “It be because I said it be.” She offered up the teasingly mangled line, happier than she’d felt in a long time. “I am a strong, liberated female who pays the dinner bill for a man I am quite interested in. Can you handle that, Kuhn Khemkaeng?”

  “Six o’clock.” Clearly pleased and already anticipating, he held out his hand and they both stood up. “I will be there, beautiful American lady.”

  * * *

  Rachel Marie felt breathless and excited when she heard the knock, but forced herself to retreat into a kind of demure sultriness. “Yes?” She slowly pulled the front door open and gazed at Khemkaeng
.

  Her tall visitor stood framed in the doorway, his eyes open wide. “Oh, Rachel . . .”

  She was clad in a stunning new dress, a clingy silk creation that was an elegant black with pale blue borders along the sleeves and neckline. The fabric of the outer jacket had the barest embroidered hint of an orchid pattern woven in, and the effect was startling. Rachel Marie had spent the better part of an hour carefully applying makeup, and her face glowed in the evening light. Her warm gray eyes had a subdued trace of liner, and her lashes were full as she peered at the handsome visitor.

  “You look like a dream,” Khemkaeng said simply. “More beautiful than I could ever have imagined.”

  “Do you like it?” Rachel Marie did a slow turn so he could feast on the entire visual package.

  “It is like heaven.” His smile betrayed his boyish enthusiasm. “But where did you get it?”

  She motioned him in. “Come. Sit down.”

  His eyes followed her as she sat down on the small settee and motioned for him to join her. “Remember that tailor shop you took me to?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Well, I got it into my head about two weeks ago that I wanted a dress for something special. So I found that card with the address, and I got a taxi ride down there, just little old me . . .”

  Khemkaeng grinned, barely comprehending the American slang.

  “ . . . And I asked the man to help me find the most beautiful fabric in the store . . . and here we are. It took two fittings, but voila.”

  He was still overwhelmed by a rush of male astonishment. “I . . . I . . . Rachel Marie, I cannot take my eyes off of you. You look so beautiful.”

  Rachel Marie leaned her head against his shoulder for a moment, smiling.

  “But . . .”

  “What?” She looked at him with luminous eyes.

  “What special event did you think would happen?”

  She reached over and picked up his hand, holding it to her lips for a tender moment. “I was 92% sure that today was going to be that day. That you would choose Jesus as your King today. And so I did some planning, dear friend.”