This past Saturday I found myself in a deceptively beautiful place right on the border of Thailand and Burma. The sight of gorgeous limestone mountains rising out of a green valley absolutely captivated my attention, and I quickly discovered that I was ignoring the realities of the fenced Karen refugee camp at Mae La that stretches five kilometers along the road. We had driven down from Chiang Mai, Thailand to listen to the stories of the Karen people who, over many years, have fled into Thailand to avoid persecution in Burma. Our hope was to gain a better sense of the challenges that they face and to consider ways to partner together with them in their struggle for justice.

Our guides were Duane and Marcia Binkley, two field personnel with whom I work, who have been busy over the last year or so assisting Karen refugees with resettlement in the United States. Also along on the trip were Greg Pope, pastor of Crescent Hill Baptist Church in Louisville, Kentucky and Doug Dickens, a professor of pastoral care at Gardner-Webb Divinity School in North Carolina. Crescent Hill is one among a growing number of congregations in the United States who have welcomed the Karen as Christian brothers and sisters and who are assisting in the relocation effort. Greg came bearing packages from some of his Karen church members for their relatives who still remain in the camp.

We paused along the way to the camp to visit with leaders of the Karen Refugee Committee, Pastor Robert Htway and Saw Tay Tay, who serve as representatives and intermediaries for the camp with the Thai government. Saw Tay Tay shared with us the story of the struggle of the Karen people for a homeland, pointing particularly to their oppression over the last 60 years. During World War II, the Karen allied with the British against the Burmese and the Japanese. As a result, they have suffered the wrath of the Burmese government, experiencing repeated attacks and brutality. Many have fled to Thailand. Others remain in the jungles of Burma, barely eking out a living. We met orphans whose parents had been murdered by soldiers in Burma and we walked through a special dormitory for people who had been blinded or maimed by land mines.

The plight of the Karen is not that different from many people around the world who live from hand to mouth, except that the Karen are displaced persons, unable to leave the camp without special permission. Resettlement is a relatively new possibility, and many Karen are struggling with the choice of leaving their own "place" and heading off to a new life in one of about nine countries that are willing to receive them. Families are often separated as some family members decide to resettle and others elect to remain in the camps (there are several along the Thai-Burma border that contain some 150,000 persons).

We spent the better part of the day at a Bible school on the edge of the camp and were privileged to hear from Saw Simon, the current director of the school, who captivated us with the prophecies of the Karen people and the stories of the camp and school. The school has been around for decades and has provided pastoral leadership to the many Karen churches in the camp and beyond.

One of the prophecies of the Karen insisted that one day a "white brother" would appear bringing a silver book. This brother is now understood to be Adoniram Judson, one of the first American Baptist missionaries, who carried the Christian faith to the Karen. The Karen national anthem alludes to this prophecy and to the belief that one day the Karen would take that same faith to the world. Saw Simon told us that this prophecy is now fulfilled in the resettlement, as Karen people (most of them Christian) now head off around the globe.

Resettlement is not as good as it sounds, though the Karen are certainly grateful for the opportunity to join hands with congregations in other parts of the world. As Saw Tay Tay said to us, "We now face the possibility of extinction." Such extinction is often the result of loss of "place." And when you factor in the orphans and the victims of land mines and the separation of families, well, it just becomes a bit much to consider.

I guess that is why my eyes were drawn to the limestone mountains as I entered Mae La Refugee Camp on the Thai-Burma border. It's just easier to see the beauty and to ignore the ugliness in the place. Before our eyes a people is held captive and a culture is threatened.

And sometimes all we want to do is look at the mountains.