This is the third perspective in a four-part series covering the various stages of missionary life. In this 3rd stage, we hear from SAMS Missionaries Gregory and Heidi Whitaker, who have been ministering in Phnom Penh, Cambodia since 2012. Heidi is a mother of five girls, two of whom are in college and one just married. Heidi is a pediatrician offering medical education and assists Cambodian physicians in the training of Cambodian medical students and residents. Gregory is Rector of Church of Christ our Peace, within the Anglican Diocese of Singapore.
I’ll start with a snippet of a childhood memory. While tucking me in bed one night, my dad said, “When you grow up, God could ask you to be a nurse, or a mom, or a missionary…” I remember thinking, “Hm, that doesn’t sound like something I would like.” Turns out little me was wrong, oh so wrong! My family has been in Cambodia for what is now regarded as a long time – we are in our 14th year. And while there have certainly been ups and downs and twists in the road, there is also joy. We count it a gift and privilege, an honor even, to be granted this relatively long duration of service and the daily grace to persevere in it.
How have we changed?
Reflecting on these years, there are obvious points of change with adding babies to the family, sending girls on to college, growing in adaptation to both Khmer culture and the international missionary/nonprofit/business world where we minister and function. There are countless ways that we have molded to life in this space, and most things do not feel adventurous or novel anymore. That familiarity is a blessing, most of the time, except when we are trying to write newsletters and can’t identify anything that feels interesting to say! Externally, we have learned to:
- Measure temperatures in Celsius (and have seen 40C, which = 102F, more times than we’d like!)
- Peel, cut, and serve a variety of tropical fruit
- Drive through town with more of a “flowing river” mindset than a “road with lanes” approach
- Leave our shoes at the door. Wearing shoes in the house can feel awkward and inappropriate
Internally, with each passing year, a bit more of Asia soaks into our souls. We find that we listen to the news, both North American and Asian, with different ears. Our thoughts about our aging parents are shaped differently. The ability of the U.S. to tuck poverty away in zones feels odd compared to visible poverty that exists in our daily life.
Where is home?
We usually call Cambodia our adopted country. We usually call the United States our passport country. The term “home country” has become progressively more troublesome the longer we have lived outside the U.S., particularly for our children, several of whom have never had a U.S. address to call their own. The United States is a place they visit to eat raspberries from Grandpa’s garden and relish the joy of a huge library, but not a place of familiarity and settledness. If they come “home” for the holidays, our adult kids mean coming to Cambodia (they come gladly, even though a white Christmas is impossible). Through it all, we are learning to echo the Apostle Paul and lean into the reality that “our citizenship is in heaven” (Philippians 3:20) and our home is in Christ and the Church. That is where we put down our deepest roots and anchor our souls, in a home that transcends this world.
What about Fruit?
By the grace of God, we have had the great joys of seeing people come to faith, seeing lives transformed, seeing the church grow. Some years ago, Gregory pioneered the idea of a dorm ministry as a means of reaching vulnerable young people with the gospel via practical support. Next week, the Anglican Church of Cambodia will open its third dorm. The leadership has discipled dozens of students, many of whom met Jesus for the first time while living in the dorms, and they now form the core of the Cambodian congregation at our church. However, there have also been hard times like watching people walk away from their faith or having an outreach fail or a relationship go sour. When it is tempting to give in to discouragement, we recall that our responsibility is to be faithful more than to be fruitful. The results of our work are not in our own hands. Christ is the Lord of the work, and the Father ordains whether our assigned field is ready to burst into bloom or is tough spiritual soil still being readied to receive seeds.
“Small shall seem all sacrifice,” wrote Amy Carmichael, a longtime missionary to India, and we are finding it true. In the light of eternity, when the final accounting of our lives and choices is made, the sacrifices will fade in significance.
We have sacrificed seeing spring bulbs bloom but witness the blossoming of the Cambodian Church.
We have sacrificed holiday traditions but celebrate the life of Christ with the nations.
We have sacrificed some comforts but watch light breaking through darkness.
Count it all joy!