Uncomfortable
What makes you uncomfortable? Right now, I’m beginning day four of a mission to Cambodia. Many things could make me uncomfortable. It could be the heat, the new-to-me foods, a bed that’s different from home, swollen ankles, unusual toilets, not getting enough sleep, or even just trying to make connections with people whose language I don’t speak or understand. So far, those discomforts have been present but not overwhelming. I am grateful for that. With all of those things happening at once, it could be overwhelming.
One thing that makes me somewhat uncomfortable is when a loving and well-intentioned friend says something like, “You are going to do so much for the people over there.” I am here to learn and to serve, but I am getting so much more in return each day. The things we are doing are not exactly tangible, like building a house or helping a particular social ministry. We are just here to experience what is already working in this amazing country and then try to see where we might fit into that network.
So what else has made me uncomfortable on this trip? Well, that starts with a background story.
Last summer when I was still dreaming about this trip, I was asking a few photographer friends what kind of camera they would recommend for a trip like this. When asking one friend, she indicated that she wanted me to borrow one of her cameras. It was a high-quality camera while being significantly smaller than mine. It seemed like it would be ideal. I was beyond grateful for my friend’s generous offer. She sent me the camera a couple of months ago. I played with it a bit at home, to get familiar with the controls. We had a little glitch at one point but figured it out. Everything operated perfectly and the camera and lens fit nicely in a small bag. I was ready.
Only…now that I’m in this amazing place, the camera won’t work. There is a communication problem wherein the digital image will not show up on the viewscreen in the back and the shutter won’t depress. The camera turns on, but it won’t take pictures. I have readjusted the lens, in case it wasn’t securely in place. I have popped the battery out and put it back in again. I have recharged the battery. I have replaced the battery. I have replaced the SD card. I have fussed and fidgeted and been distracted from what I should be focusing on here in Cambodia while trying to make this camera work, all with only intermittent success. No matter what I do, the camera still has this issue. How on earth do I “do” Cambodia without a proper camera?
The sermon on Sunday was about idols. The message struck me as something I should share with my small group back home, as this was a topic we had discussed recently. I took notes while my friend David Manfred translated. It turned out the sermon was directed more at me than anyone else in my small group. The line of the sermon that really stood out as I contemplated my struggles with the camera was this: “Things that are good, but we think we can’t live without become idols. If we MUST have it, but ‘it’ is not God, it’s an idol.”
I hear you loud and clear, God. I think of my camera as a way to worship God, as a lens to amplify the beauty in His creation as I see it. That is good. But the distraction of fussing with a camera that is not working is simply NOT the plan for this trip. I put the camera away. It will not come out again this trip. I do not need tips and tricks to try. I have my phone, and that will do. God, and the people here, will have my full attention. In one way, it’s kind of cool that Satan understood he couldn't use the other discomforts of Cambodia to distract me. He went straight for the jugular and took out my camera. He didn’t win, though. God did. I am at peace with this, and I will continue to lean on God for anything else I might encounter here.
So, yes. Liz Traff is in Cambodia without a proper camera.
And it’s OK.



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