Where God Has Been All Along

Badminton Tournament on a Friday evening at Mission Dove Cambodia, Youth Learning Center.

One evening, I looked up from my desk and noticed that no one was in a hurry to leave.

English class had already finished. The table tennis game outside had ended. Someone was washing cups in the kitchen. Two students were arguing over a drawing. Another had fallen asleep on the sofa with a backpack still resting against his shoulder.

No one had asked them to stay. No one seemed eager to go.

For a moment, I forgot about the lesson plans waiting on my laptop. I simply watched. And I found myself wondering: What makes a place so ordinary become somewhere people don't want to leave? Not everyone who walks through our gate comes carrying the same story. Some come hoping to improve their English, computer skills, music, or art. Some are invited by friends. Some are curious about Onyx, Faithwalking, or our conversations around emotional and spiritual health, financial stewardship, and leadership. Others simply come because someone mentioned there would be badminton, table tennis, a game of Rummikub or Uno, or a quiet place to spend the evening. Those are the reasons they give. I'm no longer convinced those are the reasons they stay.

One of those young people is Vannavy.*

He arrived carrying more than a school bag. He carried memories of being bullied because of his gender, the quiet weight of financial hardship, and a dream of becoming an artist that had slowly begun to disappear. Somewhere along the way, he had started believing that an ordinary life was all he should hope for. Then one ordinary conversation changed something.

Another student noticed that Vannavy became quiet whenever conversations about gender came up. He didn't try to fix him. He simply asked if he was okay. He listened. Then he quietly said that if anyone ever hurt him here, he wouldn't have to face it alone.

Later, Vannavy wrote:

"I felt seen, understood, and accepted. For the first time in a long time, I felt safe knowing that there were people around me who cared about my well being and were willing to support me."

I keep returning to that sentence because it feels bigger than Vannavy's story.

It feels like something true about all of us.

I don't think our deepest longing is to become more successful, more capable, or even more confident. I think our deepest longing is to know that who we are is already welcome. Perhaps the deepest transformations don't begin with becoming someone new. They begin with discovering that we were never asked to become anyone else in the first place.

At the heart of every gathering was the same hope, to become the kind of community where people can lay down the exhausting work of proving themselves and slowly discover the freedom of living from the truest self God has entrusted to them.

"Coming Home"- A Day of Contemplative Rest

In May, ten graduates from our Onyx discipleship journey gathered for Coming Home, a one day contemplative retreat. Rather than traveling to a retreat center, we transformed our own office into a quiet sanctuary, reminding ourselves that rest does not always require going somewhere else. Sometimes it begins by creating enough space to truly arrive where we already are. Throughout the day, participants journeyed through four reflective stations.

Green Grass invited them to notice the places within themselves that longed for safety, nourishment, and restoration.

Battlefield created space to honestly acknowledge the inner conflicts they had been carrying, the unseen battles that often shape our lives more than anyone realizes.

Wilderness explored seasons of uncertainty, silence, and waiting, gently asking what God might be cultivating in places that feel empty or unresolved.

Finally, Rest & Creativity invited participants to lay down the pressure to produce and rediscover the simple joy of being through art, journaling, quiet presence, and play.

The day unfolded in silence, with mindful eating, personal reflection, creative expression, shared stories, prayer, and even time for an afternoon nap. None of these practices were extraordinary on their own. Together, they created enough spaciousness for people to notice themselves, one another, and God's gentle presence with fresh eyes.

As I reflected on the day afterward, I realized we often treat rest as something we earn after our work is finished. Perhaps that is why so many of us struggle to receive it.

But rest is not a reward for productivity. It is one of the ways we remember that our worth has never depended on how much we accomplish. Maybe that is what coming home really means. Not escaping our ordinary lives for a day, but learning to inhabit them more gently. To discover that God is often waiting for us, not somewhere beyond the next achievement, but in the quiet pause we almost rushed past.

Building a Culture, Not Just Policies

Every healthy community eventually has to answer a quiet question:

How do we care for one another when life becomes complicated?

Throughout May, our team gathered over three training days to strengthen the foundations of our organizational culture. Together we worked through new and refreshed policies on safeguarding and child protection, sexual exploitation, abuse and harassment (SEAH), conflict of interest, anti corruption, procurement, travel and vehicle use, and clearer approval processes.

Rather than simply reading documents together, we turned them into conversations, role plays, laughter, difficult questions, and real life scenarios.

Because policies are never just about compliance.

They quietly reveal what kind of community we hope to become.

The question then became, How do we nurture that kind of community from the inside out?

Learning to Listen

Coaching is a privilege because to listen deeply to another person's story is to stand on holy ground, a place that does not belong to us, but is entrusted to our care.

This May, we continued our Coaching Skills Training in partnership with Cambodia's two licensed professional coaches, Susan Smith from Novo and Mr. Ponloeu Ea from TeahFund UK. Together, we practiced coaching models and skills, learning to listen beneath people's words, become more curious than certain, and create space where others could discover their own wisdom rather than depending on ours.

Perhaps the deepest lesson wasn't about coaching at all.

It was the reminder that transformation often begins when someone feels truly seen, deeply heard, and faithfully accompanied.

In a world eager to offer advice, we are learning that deep listening may be one of the most generous gifts we can offer another person.

Seeing Through the Lens of Trauma

In June, we welcomed facilitators from Living Well and Mercy Medical Center for our Trauma Informed Care Training. One of the greatest invitations of those days was learning to become more curious than certain. Instead of asking, "What's wrong with this person?" We practiced asking,"What might this person have lived through?" That simple shift changes more than our language. It changes our posture. It reminds us that behind every coping strategy, every emotional reaction, every difficult behaviour, there is often a story that once made perfect sense. Trauma informed care is not about excusing harmful behaviour. It is about responding with both truth and compassion, recognising that healing rarely grows where shame is planted.

The more I learn, the more I realize that understanding another person's story is not about having all the answers. It begins with approaching them gently enough that they discover their story matters, their pain makes sense, and their humanity has never been lost, only waiting to be met with compassion.

Stewarding What We Have Been Given

In partnership with Wise Finance, young adults joined us over two Saturdays to learn practical skills in budgeting, saving, planning, and wise financial decision making. Money is rarely just about numbers. It often reflects our fears, hopes, habits, patterns, and values. Learning to steward resources wisely is also part of learning to steward ourselves. Which is perhaps another way of describing the journey we ended the month with.

Joy Is Part of Formation

Not every lesson happens in a classroom. Some are learned while chasing a shuttlecock across the court. Our annual badminton tournament filled the office with laughter, playful competition, and plenty of unexpected champions. But what stayed with me wasn't who won. It was the sound of people cheering for one another. The freedom to laugh at a missed shot. The ease of simply enjoying each other's company.

Joy has always been part of transformation. We often imagine healing as tears, courage, or difficult conversations. Sometimes it is. But healing also looks like laughter echoing across a badminton court, playful teasing between friends, and people discovering they can delight in one another without pretending to be anyone else.

Next up, table tennis.

Faithwalking: Becoming Awake

June concluded with a four day Faithwalking Contemplative Retreat centered around self awareness. Together we explored how our earliest stories continue shaping the way we live today. We reflected on the hidden vows we made as children to survive, the protective patterns that once kept us safe, and the quiet invitation to write new declarations that are rooted not in fear, but in freedom. Again and again, we returned to a simple conviction: Awareness is not the destination. It is the doorway.

Because transformation rarely begins when we try harder. More often, it begins when we finally see ourselves honestly, receive ourselves compassionately, and trust that God has been meeting us there all along.

Prayer Request

Please pray that Mission Dove continues to become a community where young people encounter not only opportunities to learn, but also the quiet assurance that they are seen, valued, and deeply loved. Pray for wisdom, humility, and discernment as we continue creating spaces where people can safely grow, heal, and belong.

Footnote: Vannavy is a pseudonym. His story is shared with permission, and identifying details have been changed to protect his privacy.