By Christina R. Kuo
Last summer I was given the opportunity to teach English for five weeks at a Chinese seminary. My appointment came through China Connection and Amity Foundation, two nonprofit organizations that develop social, medical and educational projects throughout China.
Just before I left the United States, a good Chinese friend, Yifan Zhang, gave me a call. He had just returned from a yearlong visit with his parents in Beijing. I told him it had been 10 years since I had been to China but that in a few days I would be returning. I asked him how China had changed.
An intuitive, intelligent and insightful fellow, Yifan answered without hesitation, "They're spiritually thirsty."
I asked him why. He responded: "Well, communism in its original form no longer exists. Western democracy won't work because we have a completely different history.
"And when it comes to philosophical or religious systems like Buddhism, Confucianism and Taoism, they leave much to be desired. They no longer seem effective in helping the average Chinese deal with the present realities of life."
I responded, "So the Chinese want to believe in something that's practical."
He replied: "Oh, most definitely. The Chinese are a pragmatic people. Like everyone else, they're searching for something more. If you stay in China long enough you'll sense it.
"Everyone might seem preoccupied with the hustle and bustle of their existence, but if you listen to what I call their `bus stop' conversations, you'll discover they're thirsting for something more."
"What about Christianity?" I asked.
"Oh, that's a whole different story. You have to be careful there," and he quickly changed the subject.
I'm glad Yifan didn't elaborate because I wanted to experience this side of China from a fresh perspective. Teaching English at one of China's 13 seminaries would give me that opportunity.
I soon discovered through the lives of a handful of Chinese Christians the hope and faith Yifan said his people were thirsting for.
One evening, I was sitting outside the seminary dining hall with a student named Fan. Rays from the full moon caught her face and I could see tears running down her cheeks. Gently, I asked her if she wanted to share what was on her mind.
She said, "You won't understand and I can't explain how I feel because my heart is so heavy." At that point she broke down and wept. For the next half-hour her light cotton dress became a tissue box as her soul continued to grieve. All I could do was sit close by and lend her my shoulder.
In time, her sobbing began to subside. She slowly lifted her head and seemed mesmerized by the looming skyscraper under construction across the street.
Trying to gain her composure she murmured: "What is humanity building toward? It's all so futile. You see those construction lights? They'll soon burn out. But look at God's lights in the heavens. They've been there forever. Life seems so hopeless without God. So futile. I just want to do God's will. I never want to get married. I just want to serve him with my whole heart."
Out of curiosity, I asked, "Why don't you want to get married?"
Fan said: "Because I'm afraid my husband will take me away from God. It's difficult being a woman in China. There are hardships."
I replied, "Don't you believe God could provide you with someone who would bring you closer to him?"
There was silence. Then she whispered, "I'm just not doing enough for him."
At that point I expressed, "Maybe God's not so much concerned with what you do in this life but what you become."
I knew I hit a nerve because she quickly replied: "You just don't understand. You're Chinese on the outside but you were born in America. You've never known..."
"Known futility?" I interjected. "Futility is when people take great joy in solving problems they've created. Futility is living a lie and believing it's the truth. Futility is feeling like you have to do, do, do yet never allowing yourself to just receive."
Looking over to me, Fan said, "You do understand some of my sorrows."
I said: "Yes I do. No one has the corner market on sorrow or futility when one lives in a dark, dark world. We have to take hope in scriptures such as Proverbs 4:18: `The righteous will be like the first gleam of dawn growing brighter till the full light of day' and John 1:5: `Light pierces the darkness but the darkness is not able to overcome it.' "
Reflecting on those thoughts Fan said: "God's hope is so real. Let's pray."
"Let's pray" is also what another Chinese friend I had come to appreciate would say quite often. Every morning I'd find her sitting in front of the seminary's guesthouse carefully balanced on her footstool meditating over God's word and Chinese literature.
One morning she shared with me the fact that she could have been one of eight children in her family but because of unknown circumstances, her mother lost each of her seven older brothers and sisters at childbirth. Knowing this, she felt fortunate to have survived and was determined to make the most of her life.
If anyone were to meet Xiao Hua, they'd experience strength and gentleness in perfect combination. They'd see a countenance of peace yet intensity to share the things in life that really matter.
Hardships have made Xiao Hua's health fragile, but she's learned the art of mind over matter and seems to walk placidly amid the turmoil.
China is a country where confusion has become a virtue and where a person can be consumed by asking "Why is there so much suffering?" or "Why was I born under such conditions?"
Xiao Hua chooses not to become enslaved by those type of questions but with God's Spirit, gradually bringing order to a disordered system. With the simplicity of Christ, she's a living prayer to all those around her.
When you go to certain pockets of China, you see this raw kind of faith. A kind of deep abiding faith that can't be learned in the seminaries or churches of this world.
It's the kind of faith that emanates from a poverty where there's nothing to prove and nothing to protect. No need to pose or posture oneself before people or before God because all you have is who you are.
All you are able to do is be in a position to receive what God has to offer and be a conduit for his blessings. This is what I saw and this is what I experienced. You don't need many people to show you what God's kingdom could be like.
In the years to come, it will be interesting to see what form of Christianity develops in China. Compared to the West, China has had a different religious history.
In the meantime, what's wonderful to see is that in this country that builds walls around its homes, walls around its cities and if it could have, a wall around its country, Chinese are breaking the Great Wall that exists between their hearts and their Creator.
Last year I prayed that I would be able to experience the things that touch God's heart. I went to China as a teacher. God brought me back as a student.
Christianity never took deep root in Chinese soil because it was considered a foreign religion and was associated with Western imperialism. In time, most missionaries were sent home and only a few were allowed to stay.
After the Cultural Revolution (1966-1976), major reforms created a new climate. The Chinese government approved such organizations as the China Christian Council (CCC) and the Three-Self Patriotic Movement (TSPM).
The latter formed because the Chinese felt a Chinese church should be self-propagating, self-governed and self-sustained. This didn't imply self-isolation from other Christians, it just meant "God spoke Chinese too" and Chinese should be allowed to develop their faith apart from Western influence.
Today, the greatest growth is seen in what are called underground churches vs. open or government sanctioned churches. They're called underground because many Chinese do not believe the Chinese government should legislate how they should practice their faith. At present, clear delineation does not exist between who is an open or underground Christian. Of the about 9 to 13 million Chinese Christians now in existence (statistics fluctuate), they span the continuum.
On any given weekend, you'll see Chinese Christians flowing inconspicuously in and out of church entrances. They come by taxi, foot, bicycle, rickshaw, man-drawn carts or any type of wheel-driven vehicle imaginable. Bible in hand, they come to be spiritually fed.
June 24, 1997, WN, page 7
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