Last week I went with some Karen youth leaders to join in a New Year's Day worship service in a refugee camp on the Burmese border. The trip did not quite go to plan.
I was with a group of Karen youth leaders from Chiang Mai, visiting the camp to take part in the traditional Karen New Year celebrations, held each year on 16 December.
We huddled around a small fire and I began to ask my new friends some questions in my basic Karen. Many of the young refugees spoke better English than I had expected and some of them were teachers in the school run inside the camp.
An abrupt ending
Our conversation was abruptly interrupted by one of the camp guards - a Thai army ranger. He explained, slightly apologetically, that our paperwork was incomplete, we had not received proper clearance from higher authorities and therefore the soldiers were not going to allow us into the camp that night.
After much pleading from the camp leaders, the soldiers conceded that we could briefly enter for a meal - on the condition that we did not take in any cameras and that when we had eaten we would leave immediately.
An unusual sight
The meal was one of the most amazing experiences I have ever had - delicious food, lovingly prepared by people living in the most basic situation I could imagine. The fact that the entire meal was eaten in the presence of 24 (I counted!) transfixed onlookers, who had squeezed into the small bamboo hut to watch the foreigners eat made it even more special.
All too soon, it was time to leave and after a quick prayer we made our way to the camp gate. We drove off but as we entered the first river crossing I realised that things did not look familiar and we were heading towards deeper water.
A light in the darkness
Then I noticed a tiny flashing light in the rear view mirror, coming towards us from the direction of the camp. Low-Low, a 25-year old teacher was running after us, flashing a torch and gesturing for us to stop. He explained in broken English that we were going the wrong way, and that he had been allowed to follow us to lead us back to the road.
Having seen us safely across the third and final river crossing Low-Low shook my hand, looked at me and said one of the most heart-rending things I have ever heard. "Teacher, I would like to come with you to Ki Mae (Chiang Mai), but I can not. I do not have the card."
Low-Low knew that he would not make it past the first Thai army checkpoint a few kilometres up the road - without proper identification he would be arrested and deported back to Burma as an illegal immigrant.
Here was a wonderful young man who had survived the traumas of civil war in Burma with a vibrant faith and a passionate desire to learn - yet who had no right to travel, no future to look forward to, no access to higher education, no opportunity to even earn a living as a free man.
Not a wasted journey
At that moment I realised that my earlier frustration at the Thai soldiers on the camp gates was nothing in comparison to the vast injustice currently being perpetrated against Low-Low and the other 138,000 refugees living in camps along the Thai-Burma border.
My journey that day was not at all wasted - I am so grateful that I had the chance, even just for a few hours, to meet Low-Low, to pray with him, to let him know that his plight has not been forgotten and to find my privileged, comfortable Western background painfully challenged by his graceful acceptance of his own traumatic life experience and situation.
Prayer request
Although it was disappointing not to be allowed into the refugee camp last week, it made us realise again what a desperate situation those living inside the camps face. There are about 140,000 refugees, many of them Karen, who are unable to travel freely, to earn a living or to support their families. Despite this, I met Christians at the camp last week excited about planning events to share the gospel with the many non-Christians around them. Please pray for these faithful believers.