First, something light. I've been studying at night with some students who were asking about "swimming" the other day. We were talking about how important it was to learn about, and what it meant. I asked if there were any questions about it, and one girl spoke up and asked shyly, "How long do you have to stay underwater?" That was the first time I'd ever been asked that. One guy--who's been swimming before--quickly retorted, "Not three days!" (referring to A Really Good Man, whom we had just talked about). I thought it was really cute to say the least. Very innocent, and something that sounded like it should come out of the mouth of a four-year-old. I smiled, and I wanted to laugh (not at her), but refrained when I observed the concern and seriousness on her face. She really had no idea. Needless to say, it sparked something in my head. Even most kids at home don't ask that question (at least I'd never heard it or of it), and I suppose that's because we've all seen what happens. I have mixed emotions about it. In a way, it's really sad that is something that's never been witnessed. But, it definitely makes me feel good about why I'm here.
Okay, now the heavy. I've found myself having several conversations with different people over the past week or two about strength. I think there is a misunderstanding about how strong belief is. I've gotten the impression that several people, particularly people back in the states, consider my co-workers and me "strong" because we're here. I also get feedback from students here about being strong and knowing so much. To be honest, I don't see myself as being all that strong. I'm not trying to be modest, just honest. But all of these comments make me wonder, "Who IS a strong believer?" I think most often at home, we equate Book knowledge to faith. I think this is a serious mistake. Especially when I consider the believers of old, who didn't even have a real Book, but were taught be others. How was their belief made strong? Wouldn't that make their belief stronger? Honestly, someone may be strong, but it's not because of how much they know or have studied. I think it's more about living. When I look at Heb11, I don't see a lot of "smart" guys. Instead, I see a lot of people who lived life as it should be lived. Doing what NEEDS to be done, no questions asked. We would do well to remember that is more important than seeing who can quote the longest lines from the Book. The Book knowledge will take care of itself.
Do what NEEDS to be done, no questions asked.
-K
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
Sunday, May 07, 2006
Lost Without Translation
This past week was the May holiday for most of China. Schools let out for the full week, and most places of work let out for at least 3-4 days. This is also one of the busiest travel times in all of China. I spent the week with my friend Brandon in Wuhan, visiting families, watching movies, and relaxing in a more accomadating, large city. This was really refreshing, and a good break before the last eight weeks of the term.
On Friday morning, I boarded a train for the six hour ride back to ShiYan, where I live. Most of the trip was uneventful, but I did notice that there were several children in my compartment, specifically 3 little girls about 4 or 5 years old. I had a sleeper berth, so I was able to spread out most of the trip. The last hour or so, I set at a table next to the window, which is also in the aisle where people walk.
I was sitting and reading a book (The Bourne Supremacy--much better than the movie), when I noticed that the girls kept watching me. Now, if you've ever been to China, you understand that this is not uncommon, people tend to stare, watch, and point--without regard or shame-- at any foreigner they encounter. However, this time it was different. I was wearing my hat, and a couple of the little girls were even bold enough to walk up to me and peak under the bill, just to get a better look at my face.
My first reaction was slightly annoyed, but polite as I smiled at them, which naturally startled them and they rushed back to protection of a parent or one of their friends. Eventually they worked up the courage to stand near me while playing their games (similar to patty-cake), and the even began to offer me parts of their snacks, some crackers and juice or water. I was surprised at this but kindly declined with my very poor and limited Chinese.
Nearing the end of the trip, they were to the point of singing the ABC song and some other songs in Chinese that they knew for my entertainment. Their timidness was completely gone. They were to the point of hanging on to me, feeling my arm hair (which doesn't exist in oriental ethnicity), and talking to me...in Chinese of course.
It was somewhat humorous, yet sad at the same time, because they kept talking to me, even though I couldn't reply. They just couldn't seem to grasp that I didn't speak Chinese. One girl even had this dumbfounded expression like, "I know you hear what I'm saying, why won't you just speak like any other normal person I know!" I had abandoned my hopless Chinese by this point and was just replying in English that I didn't understand. I wanted very badly to be able to speak to those little girls, find out their names, play games with them, and give them more than a couple of words they understood and some goofy expressions. It was frustrating for me. They were still very kind and happily said "bye bye" to me (more times than is necessary, but very typical of any child making a game of it) as we exited the train and parted ways outside of the station.
This is a long story, but it made me think about something important. How often are we like those little children to our Father? We start off shy and curious about Him. We then become more comfortable with Him, but we have difficulty communicating, because we don't speak His language. He continually shows His kindness to us, but there is only so much He can do until we start speaking His language. And we, who don't understand Him in our finite knowledge, can't always understand why He doesn't "just speak like any other normal person." The reason is simple. His language isn't English, or even Chinese, it's love. Until we start speaking that, we'll never understand Him or what He wants to tell us and share with us.
On Friday morning, I boarded a train for the six hour ride back to ShiYan, where I live. Most of the trip was uneventful, but I did notice that there were several children in my compartment, specifically 3 little girls about 4 or 5 years old. I had a sleeper berth, so I was able to spread out most of the trip. The last hour or so, I set at a table next to the window, which is also in the aisle where people walk.
I was sitting and reading a book (The Bourne Supremacy--much better than the movie), when I noticed that the girls kept watching me. Now, if you've ever been to China, you understand that this is not uncommon, people tend to stare, watch, and point--without regard or shame-- at any foreigner they encounter. However, this time it was different. I was wearing my hat, and a couple of the little girls were even bold enough to walk up to me and peak under the bill, just to get a better look at my face.
My first reaction was slightly annoyed, but polite as I smiled at them, which naturally startled them and they rushed back to protection of a parent or one of their friends. Eventually they worked up the courage to stand near me while playing their games (similar to patty-cake), and the even began to offer me parts of their snacks, some crackers and juice or water. I was surprised at this but kindly declined with my very poor and limited Chinese.
Nearing the end of the trip, they were to the point of singing the ABC song and some other songs in Chinese that they knew for my entertainment. Their timidness was completely gone. They were to the point of hanging on to me, feeling my arm hair (which doesn't exist in oriental ethnicity), and talking to me...in Chinese of course.
It was somewhat humorous, yet sad at the same time, because they kept talking to me, even though I couldn't reply. They just couldn't seem to grasp that I didn't speak Chinese. One girl even had this dumbfounded expression like, "I know you hear what I'm saying, why won't you just speak like any other normal person I know!" I had abandoned my hopless Chinese by this point and was just replying in English that I didn't understand. I wanted very badly to be able to speak to those little girls, find out their names, play games with them, and give them more than a couple of words they understood and some goofy expressions. It was frustrating for me. They were still very kind and happily said "bye bye" to me (more times than is necessary, but very typical of any child making a game of it) as we exited the train and parted ways outside of the station.
This is a long story, but it made me think about something important. How often are we like those little children to our Father? We start off shy and curious about Him. We then become more comfortable with Him, but we have difficulty communicating, because we don't speak His language. He continually shows His kindness to us, but there is only so much He can do until we start speaking His language. And we, who don't understand Him in our finite knowledge, can't always understand why He doesn't "just speak like any other normal person." The reason is simple. His language isn't English, or even Chinese, it's love. Until we start speaking that, we'll never understand Him or what He wants to tell us and share with us.
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