Even though thirteen-year-old Chaz had lived in Chiangmai, Thailand for most of his life, he had never yet led anyone to Jesus. His need for a backpack changed all that.
Chaz found a brightly lit luggage stall at the side of the Night Market near a Buddhist temple. Numerous bags and purses hung from a tarp canopy hovering above rows of suitcases arranged on the ground.
As Chaz approached, the shopkeeper stood up and said, “Welcome sir!” He was probably in his fifties and had short silver hair. His suit jacket seemed out of place.
“Thanks. Hi.” Chaz wasn’t sure how to respond to someone calling him sir.
“We have good suitcase.”
Chaz decided to speak Thai, which usually helped to get the price reduced. Chaz swiped his forehead sweat over his blond hair. “I’m looking for an internal frame backpack.”
The man’s eyes widened in pleasant surprise, wrinkling half of his upper face. “You speak our language very well.”
“Thanks,” Chaz had worked hard to learn this complicated language.
“No Thai. You practice me English, okay?”
“Sure.”
“Wait here. I have special pack today.” Chaz looked around while the man went back through some tattered curtains.
The shopkeeper returned with a large smile on his face and an army green backpack. “You look.” He set the bag down on the table and gently slid it out of a plastic wrapper.
The smell made Chaz feel dizzy as he examined it. The zippers were thick and sturdy with strong buckles. The fabric was thick and durable with double stitching. It was the most beautiful pack he had ever seen and he assumed it would cost him at least double what he had to spend. Money was tight right now, so there was no point asking his dad for more. He set it down gently.
“What you think? Very nice, yes?” The shopkeeper held the pack up to the light.
“Very nice.” Chaz squelched his envy.
“What you do in Thailand?”
Chaz stood up straight, “My parents are missionaries.”
“Oh. Good karma. You do so good for Thailand.” The man took Chaz’s hand and shook it vigorously, which was strange because no one ever shook hands around here. Instead, Thai people thanked and greeted by putting their hands together in a waii.
Maybe he feels hand-shaking goes hand-in-hand with having an English conversation.
“Oh. Thank you.”
The man let Chaz’s hand go “What you name?”
“I’m Chaz.”
“I am Burut. I attend Catholic missionary school when I boy. I learn English good. I learn about Jesus. You know?”
“Yes, I know about Jesus.”
“Forgive enemies, yes? Then God take away your sin?”
“Something like that.”
“I like this. How I can Christian too?”
“I, umh, well you need to pray to God.”
“You pray me, okay?”
“I think my dad would be better at this.” Chaz felt way out of his league.
“No, you pray me.” The man grabbed his hands and looked intently into his eyes. It seemed a little strange to Chaz because usually Thai people weren’t so forward.
It didn’t matter. What mattered was this man’s soul was on the line.
“In English?”
“Yes, yes, English.”
“Okay, I guess, why don’t you just say what I pray?”
Chaz bowed his head and put his hands together much like the Thai’s did in a waii. He began, “Okay? Dear God.”
“Okay? Dear God.” Chaz smiled when the man repeated the word “okay”. Chaz hoped he thoroughly covered every thing needed for the prayer of salvation by the time he reached “Amen.”
“So, now I can attend Christian temple?”
“Of course, do you have any questions?”
“No.”
“I pray you will get to know Jesus better.”
“I found already. I know this good path for me. Thank you for happy.”
“Umh, sure.”
“Also, I think you find what you like. Yes?” Burut said with a sly smile.
“I did?”
“Yes. You like backpack?”
“Of course. It’s beautiful.”
“Special price for you only. I buy for cheap. You, help me. I sell you cheap.”
“Really?”
“Only you do one thing.”
“Sure, what is it?”
The shopkeeper smiled with deeply yellowed teeth. “You tell more of my people about Jesus, so they be happy, too.”
“You’ve got a deal,” Chaz replied. He paid, slid on the shoulder straps and raced to show his dad.