Ben's Thoughts after Phop Pra

Hi all, this is my first blog update. So far I've been more than happy to let Jay do the hard work of blogging (he loves it), and I've enjoyed reading the fruits of his solid documentation and amusing writing-style. However, after visiting Phop Pra today I wanted to say something by way of reflection on the 'music therapy workshop' the team ran. This came up as an idea to help the Karen children connect with their emotions through music, and to have the opportunity to express themselves creatively in a way that would be helpful to them.

I think of 'The Verve' song 'bittersweet symphony', which contains a line I have often pondered on:

'I need to hear some sounds that recognise the pain in me'.

I've always loved the Psalms, and it seems that in many of them, the Psalmist puts his finger right on the pulse of our human condition, then connects it with the character of God, pulling the two together. God gives us a 'bridge of sighs' as he turns our darkness to light, and gives us beauty for our ashes. Later, Jesus would quite literally dwell among us, identifying with our grief and sorrows. Using the analagy of the bridge, he put us on his back, carried us across the awful bridge of the cross, to safety on our way to wholeness. 

Back to Phop Pra:
We started the session with a game, in which the team played live music of varying style and emotion, the kids responding by gathering around the posters stuck on the walls of the church. 'Voting with their feet' as to their opinion about how the song made them feel. For example, 'Sweet Home Alabama' made several of the teenage boys feel 'cool', and 'Somewhere over the Rainbow' made someone feel sad because they missed their family in Burma. Touchingly, one boy said 'My Jesus my Saviour' made him feel 'surprised' by God's love. So then we had an impromptu mini worship time which was ace.

After this, the children were given art materials and were asked to draw how the music made them feel. For around half an hour they drew, as music was played from an mp3 player over the speakers. Walking around, there were many pictures portraying sadness, some bright and happy, and it was touching to see the Karen children expressing their stories and emotions through art.

One story in particular illustrates to me the awful experiences the many Karen children have suffered, as well power of music and art to help connect and express emotion. One of the teenage boys -who was also acting as our translator- did not at first appear to intend on taking part in the exercise. However when the first song played (White Dove Fly High- Casting Crowns) he suddenly stopped said 'This music is sad', found himself a piece of paper, and started drawing, using a guitar for support. He drew a picture of a sad boy, with 'thought' bubbles, remembering the army attacking his village, and another 'bubble' showing the same village in peace before the attack. Walking around the children as they concentrated on their picture drawing, there were many similar scenes of grief expressed.

After a short while, we played other songs that gently lifted the mood, intending to strike the themes of hope, joy and celebration. By the end, some children were working on sad pictures, but others had started doodling chickens, superheroes etc. Overall they seemed to engage and enjoy the process. The team felt very emotional we peered over their shoulders and offered compliments for the fine art-work. Jackie in particular found the pictures very moving.

Later the team ate a nice meal (sirloin steak and fries for me, thanks), and reflected how God uses the gift of creativity to heal.  We pondered on the thought that we could trust God in his love for the Karen children, who have suffered so much. Until today we did not know these children, yet God has always known and loved them. John 3:16 says that '...God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son'. When we feel a small fraction of his love for these kids for a single day, and we think of how he loves each man, woman and child on this earth with an 'everlasting love' (Jeremiah 31:3), it makes the mind boggle and our hearts turn to thank our heavenly Father for loving us, adopting us, using all sorts of creative ways to heal our broken hearts. He is the everlasting Father, and we love him for it.

Tomorrow we head to Mae La refugee camp to meet more of the Karen people who have had to flee their homes in Burma and are confined to a camp on the Thai border. This sounds heavy and serious (and it is), but we've discovered today that the Karen children have enormous capacity for fun, joy, and are very creative, so I'm really looking forward to tomorrow.

We are away from internet access for a a couple of days now, so it will be friday before our next installment.

If you made it this far, thanks for reading!

Ben