The last few days of the trip, we drove 6 hours to Siem Reap to prayer walk in Angkor Wat.
When I found out we were going at sunrise, I was excited. There's a pool in front of the temple and the way the sun rises, the reflection doubles… and it's gorgeous, from what I hear. Never a fan of waking of early (I'm always surprised to find out there's a 4:30 in the morning as well as the afternoon), there was an anticipation inside of me. Nature is one of my first loves, and being out in nature calms me, dazzles me… and it's where I worship and spend time with God most often. After a cold/gray spring, I was quietly telling God how excited I was to meet Him there, to see the sunrise with Him, and delight in that with Him.
We drove to the temple in the dark, just as light was beginning to crack the sky. But no sign of the sun. Got into position, along with several hundred other people, alongside the pool. Even before sunrise, the air was heavy with humidity. It was so hot.
(Photos by Connie Rock. The woman on the right was cracking us up with her really bad yoga poses).
Then… my stomach started hurting. The dreaded IBS… and it was urgent.
Thankfully, there was a squattie not too far away (always a praise in a foreign country), and I had brought toilet paper. But by the time I came out, still feeling sick, the sun was well in the sky.
Instead of seeing this:
(Photo by Connie Rock)
I was staring into a porcelain squattie praying to God that the pain would stop.
Disappointed. That's the best way I have to describe it. I wanted that time with you, God… even surrounded by so many people. I mean, I know you were definitely in that squattie with me… but it definitely wasn't the same!
Shrugged it off and kept going. After all, it's not every day you're at an ancient temple!
I don't know how to describe the rest of the day other than beauty. Awe over stone craftsmanship. Feeling unworthy of being there. Still looking for my moment with God. Listening for him. Praying while climbing, walking… taking photos.
It happened before the final temple.
We exited the vans to chaos. You can tell that this one was one of the most popular from the amount of people hassling (I mean… haggling) the tourists. We began to walk the path through the trees. I walked ahead, and then, I heard it.
Quiet.
The sound of the wind in the trees.
Insects, birds… nature.
Peace.
I stopped, tilted my head to the bluer-than-blue sky, closed my eyes, and listened.
A teammate came up and asked what I was listening to.
I cracked one eye opened and turned towards her. "Peace".
When I looked back at the sky…. this is what I saw.
And I know…. I mean, I KNOW… that was for me.
I couldn't stop smiling in the final temple. Besides… it was the one with the trees. And I LOVE trees. It was incredible- trees growing through solid rock. Trees growing over solid rock, draping it like a lace hem.
Then I heard my friend, Jess, say how interesting it was that we were in a temple for a dead thing. Something that never lived. Has no power. And here we were… living temples of the living God… touring a ruin. We were the real works of art, the real temples.
And then Connie pointed out how nature was overtaking the temples. How the beauty that man built was made more beautiful–and completely overcome–by the hand of God.
And I spent the rest of the day thinking about what it means to be the living temple of the living God. About how he says that if his people don't worship him, the rocks will cry out. Or in this case, the trees will overwhelm the man-cut boulders and reach for the sky, pointing directly to Him.
It's not exactly a hard question I'm wrestling with in this post, just an introspective one. Wondering if my life reflects this temple… or the glorious, empty tomb and what it stands for? I wanted to share this with you because I think it's a good reminder and a good question for us all, to remember that our worth is so much greater than anything man could ever build, and it has nothing to do with us… but instead, who lives inside of us.
