Boom! Crackle! went the fireworks. Sparkling red, yellow, blue, green and orange lights decorated homes and businesses. We heard singing throughout the night along with trumpets, snare drums and cymbals. The celebration seemed like an odd combination of Fourth of July and Christmas. We had arrived in our new homeland on the opening night of a three-day celebration called the Festival of Lights.

Over the next couple of days we experienced a sensory overload: fragrances of bright flower garlands, singing and fireworks drowning out the vehicle horns, and vibrant color displays strewn everywhere. There were stalls filled with beautifully embroidered apparel so soft that I found myself unconsciously touching it as we passed by. Being new in the country, Arnold and I didn’t want to risk dysentery by tasting locally prepared food, but other less attractive tastes assaulted our mouths and noses as passing vehicles left clouds of dust and fumes. Many locals wear dust masks, and we plan to start doing this, too.

All in all, the three days of celebration were an unexpected blessing to us as we got to see local rites and rituals, witness the emptiness of religions without Christ and understand more clearly the great need of these people to know they have a Savior in Jesus.

An expatriate we met here told us, “In order to truly appreciate this land you must put it on like a suit and wear it around for awhile.” We want to experience it this way while giving hope to the local people so they really have something to celebrate.

Please continue to pray for the people of Southeast Asia.

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