A Taste of Eternity

Recently a few organizations collaborated to start a house of intercession in Phnom Penh. Almost a month ago, soon after Melissa and I began taking Khmer lessons, we decided to go check it out. After class we rode our bikes to the house, which is only a few minutes away from where we are staying.

Upstairs is a large, open room with instruments, cushions, and a water cooler. The walls are all glass, so you can look out into the streets below. It's a very cool location.

Melissa got there first because I had to make up a session of Khmer class. When I arrived, she was already sitting down, reading in the corner. A group of five men were sitting in a circle in the center of the room, lifting their hearts to the Father. Apparently every Thursday morning there is a men's meeting.

I would have to go to work at the university in only a short time, so I couldn't really stay long. But as I began to watch these men gather before the Throne, my eyes became fixed on one man.

When I came to Cambodia two years ago, I had the opportunity to serve in a ministry to male sex workers, commonly referred to as "ladyboys" in this culture. One of them was a man who had been a child during the Khmer Rouge genocide in the 1970s. Since that time he had been subject to various forms of abuse, including sexual abuse by a foreign man. As a result, he lived a life of poverty and ostracism and spiritual darkness.

During the summer that I was with him, something happened. The Word of life came to light in his heart.

I left Cambodia still clinging to the hope I saw take place in his life. He was a new creation. But I was worried, and doubted.

In the last two years since that experience, I have not stopped lifting his name to the Father. It was so hard, because I didn't have any real way of knowing how he was doing.

Then I came to this men's meeting, not knowing what He was about to do. Two years of petition and intercession collided when I looked across the room to see this same man on his knees, his eyes tightly shut, speaking praises to the King.

Today I was able to go again. This man came as well. As soon as he saw me, he rushed over, shook my hand, and hugged me. "Ryan!"

How beautiful that our reunion took place in a men's meeting. We sat together, laughing, and gathered with other brothers to sing thanksgiving to the only one worthy of praise. We opened the Word, and he spoke. We lifted our cries to his heart for the men of this land. We asked for healing. For restoration. For forgiveness. For his power. For the impossible to become possible.

And the whole time, the living proof of his healing, restoration, forgiveness, and power was sitting next to me, offering petitions in his own tongue. The whole time, the Father was whispering to me as I asked him to hear and to work and to save:

"I am."

Two years ago, this man was in darkness. Now he is full of light. Two years ago, he was enslaved to a lie. Now he is free. Two years ago he had a twisted identity. Now he is a brother. My brother. Forever.


"...I will hear...forgive...and heal..."

(II Chr. 7:14)