The building was long and bare with nothing but a bland white sign identifying it as a Seventh-day Adventist church. It was one of many church plants in Bangkok, and I was visiting it that Sabbath with the Thai Women’s Ministry group.

As we got out of our car and entered the church, we were told we would be meeting in a small room that was actually part of the pastor’s house, because it was too hot to meet in the other part of the building. The room was perhaps 14 by 20 feet. There was a pulpit in the front corner. School desks and a couch lined the walls. A fan and a small air conditioner unit struggled to keep the room comfortable as the outside temperature soared. We watched as the pastor spread two huge off-white rugs on the floor in the middle of the room. As he continued busily preparing the room, he told us he expected 30 or 40 people to show up for church. He went on to tell us that the majority of his congregation are Pakistani refugees since he can speak Urdu.

When Sabbath school began, between 20 and 30 Pakistanis were in attendance, most of them men. The church service was an interesting blend of four different languages and cultures. I was touched by the enthusiasm with which the Pakistani worshipers sang praises to God in their native tongue. I sensed that each one of them had experienced God in a very personal way. They didn’t seem to care that their surroundings or situation in life was less than desirable. They were just happy to be worshiping God together.

At one point in the service, my attention was drawn behind the pulpit to the kitchen where several ladies were preparing lunch. Like the rest of the building, the kitchen was greatly lacking in modern conveniences. It was a windowless room with a refrigerator, a few metal counters, a gas stove, and a broken air conditioner. The door to the kitchen was kept shut since it opened directly into the sanctuary, so the cooks suffered as they prepared a feast for their guests. One of the ladies came out of the steam bath with her clothes almost glued to her body and sat on the floor, visibly exhausted. I watched her for several minutes, concerned that she might pass out from the heat.

Before we left, we had a special prayer for the group. As we sat in a circle together, the reality of what these people must have been through began to dawn on me. Many of them had escaped religious persecution in Pakistan. Several told us they had spent several years in a prison camp before escaping. Many of them do not have any communication with family back in Pakistan and don’t even know where they might be found. Though they are thankful to be out from under tyranny, they are frustrated in Thailand. They have been allowed into the country, but they haven’t been given work visas. Many of them struggle to survive, and at times they feel trapped in this “free” country with no ability to better their lives. Many of them dream of someday making it to America or Europe. They hold onto hope that, any day, their circumstances will improve. Many of them seemed truly happy that we had come to their church. I sensed a longing in them to connect with a larger community of Christian believers.

As I thought about their situation and compared it with my own, I felt extremely blessed to have been born in a country that allows religious freedom. I was also impressed that if we have been blessed with freedom, then we have a great responsibility to those who haven’t. We cannot continue just living our lives and ignoring the needs of the world around us. We have a responsibility to our suffering brothers and sisters in this world as well as to the millions who have not had the opportunity to know our Savior. God has not showered us with so many blessings just so we can keep them to ourselves and our families, but so we can share them with those less fortunate. I am reminded of Luke 12:48: “. . . For everyone to whom much is given, from him much will be required; and to whom much has been committed, of him they will ask the more.”

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