Not long ago pain and suffering filled this city. Phnom Penh is filled with the history of miserable deaths and torture. As I stepped into the gates of the killing fields, my sight was presented with life, but in the shadows of this peaceful atmosphere, images of inhumanity gloomed. As I cautiously strolled around the museum, I passed by exact spots where men, women and children were abused and murdered. Bridges were constructed to protect the mass graves that make up the majority of land within the walls. The ground had sunken in where 17,000 innocent people were piled up and buried, forming small hills and ponds of algae across the property. In the center of the field was a monument to respect the dead. This displayed three stories of skulls with markings that told of how they were killed. The soldiers used any and every tool to execute their prisoners, from rebar and bats, to hoes and axes. They rarely used guns because they wanted to reduce noise and suspicion. I tried to imagine the unjustified cruelty that had taken place here, horrific deaths with the sole purpose to decrease the population. 

Why was I not drawn to tears? My teammates eyes where sheening with empathy. Images of naked bodies being tossed carelessly and helpless children torn from their mothers to be beaten and isolated flashed through my mind. My heart became heavy but unbroken. Why? 

The skulls, signifying death, had little resemblance of the innocent lives that once were. No individuality remained. Their souls, hearts and personalities, their essence, remained no more. Empty vessels, signs of life that once flourished, but every light blown out. Maybe I am blinded to the pain of the past by the sight of hope that blooms in the city today, the continuation of life.

S-21, once a place of learning, is where torture and pointless interrogation took root. Heavy emotions and sights filled my mind as I walked through the empty cells where only ghosts and stories reside now. Ghosts of the people who's bloody hand prints remain on the walls and smears of blood on the checkered floor. Images of their beaten and abandoned bodies hang on the walls of the torture rooms. This place is plagued with sin, horror and the devil.

The exhibit weighed down on my friend. She seemed to have carried it with her as she walked out of S-21. Only prayer relived her soul. She said something seemed to have latched onto her using fear as its anchor. I did not experience this weight. Is this a lack of empathy or a protection over my soul? 

Empathy is a gift from God and I look up to those who feel things deeply. I would love to grow in this attribute but I am thankful for the gift of wisdom, rationality and hope. 

To not live in the past... to see the beauty of the present and the hope of life. To see the reality of the past and take it in without breaking my spirit. 

The devil will not win. The Lord was still working in the midst of misery. "Escape From the Killing Fields" is a biography of a Christian girl who survived to tell her story. Furthermore, Comrade Duch was another individual who was transformed by the love of God. Duch was the head of the S-21 prison and took part in the murder of thousands of people. After finding Christ, and being baptized by a pastor who suffered from the Rouge, he confessed to his crimes and the role he played. He asked for forgiveness but fully accepting justice, being sentenced to life in prison. 

Praise be to God, even in the lowest, darkest parts of humanity.