When I first came to China it was in the spring of 1982. I went on a band trip with McKinley High School and China had just opened up to the west. I said I never wanted to go back. Thirty years later China had changed and so had I.
Thursday, February 21, 2013
It was June of 2010 and it had been a difficult year. I had moved out of my house and into my new music store because of the looming financial hardship involved in opening a new business. It was a strange context for such a foreign idea to enter into my mind. “I ought to study Chinese,” I thought. I don’t know where it came from since I had never had much interest in China or languages, for that matter. Six years of Japanese, one year of Greek, half a year of Hebrew, two months of Spanish all had no sticking power, and yet this indismissible thought was enough to cause me to dabble by listening to beginner Chinese language recordings. After months of practicing and studying on my own, it was clear that when I ventured to say something to Chinese speakers no one understood me. Discouraged and unmotivated, I dropped the whole thing.
Forgetting the episode, I found myself in November of 2011 attending a gathering of a few thousand Christians, mostly Chinese, holding hands and praying for the persecuted church in China. The Mandarin language they spoke was just familiar enough to heighten my desire to listen for understandable phrases and connect with the people. When the Chinese woman next to me held my hand, I started to weep, recalling an impactful season in my youth when I first discovered people in China actually were tortured and put to death for their Christian faith.
In 1982 as a new believer on a sightseeing tour of Beijing, I remember how troubled I felt by the temples I walked through that housed the many gods they worshipped. Everywhere I looked in the cities of Beijing and Shanghai were masses of people dressed in black coats purposefully traveling to and fro on bicycles. Back then I had been completely unprepared for the offensive odors and the barely palatable foods, and was unable to bear the looks of the peddlers who with begging eyes and crooked teeth presented us with trinkets they wanted us to buy. A week of discomfort in this foreign land was enough to cause me to vow never to return. And yet the plight of the persecuted church in China left a deep impression.
My experience at this Christian gathering in November of 2011 tapped into a deep longing for the fulfillment of God’s purposes in my life. As we at the conference prayed together, my memory began to spark with electric currents within my brain connecting past prayers, emotions, experiences, and vows, with that trip 30 years ago and the recent urge to learn this language. In that moment my next step was made crystal clear: I needed to study Chinese… seriously. The nudge back in the summer of 2010 had been no random thought, I realized, but it had been an invitation from the Lord to step into a whole new, yet somewhat familiar world that was calling me back. When I returned from the conference I immediately looked for a Chinese tutor and began what was up to that point, my most diligent study of any language.
CHINA
Thursday, February 21, 2013 marked slightly over one year since I had heard the ever so clear voice inside nag me to study Mandarin Chinese. I had passionately studied all year and, in the process, had developed an inexplicable urge to return to that distant land. Through a string of supernatural events and challenges, it became apparent I was being called by God and released by my family, my pets, my business, and my church to go. But where? China is a big place, and I had no connections. A Taiwanese friend Lisa recommended I live in a Chinese home rather than a hotel. She said she would check with her pastor who was from Shanghai. Happy to help me out, Reverend Ni said he would ask his childhood friend Brian who had become a successful Chinese businessman and more recently a new Christian if he had any space for me in his sometimes unused extra home. Brian, a very generous man who up until this day I have never met in person, graciously agreed to let me live at his house for a month while he went to the United States to visit his son. He would have his housekeeper cook and take care of me, and in addition would send the necessary invitation letter allowing me to obtain my visa.
I continued my once a week language study with my teacher Nan and another hour a week with my friend Lisa, and spent long hours with daily Rosetta Stone lessons and other Chinese audio programs and learning tools.
I created an online language partner profile, which to my surprise got quite a few daily hits from Chinese students wanting to learn English from me. Through this means I discovered, I was quite able to email people in Chinese by using translation tools while still a beginner at the language. I had a long way to go but at least on the surface it appeared I could communicate adequately enough to build friendships.
When the long anticipated date came for me to leave for China, I felt ready. The overnight stopover from Los Angeles to San Francisco and staying at a San Francisco hotel with the address number of 222 only heightened my anticipation. Another 14-hour flight across the Pacific Ocean brought me finally to my destination: the very modern Shanghai Pudong Airport. Exiting the baggage claim, I was greeted by Brian’s bilingual friend Rebecca and niece Anna who with warm hospitality ushered my large suitcases and me into a yellow cab which took us to Brian’s house.
Having heard of the cold winters and lack of heating in many parts of China, I had prepared for the worst, but upon entering Brian’s luxurious modern four bedroom apartment with heated floors I was immediately put to ease. His housekeeper Mrs. Huang who I was to call “Ayi,” a term of endearment meaning “aunt,” “housekeeper,” or “woman older than you who takes care of you,” prepared a welcome meal of hot noodles for me. My other anxieties revolving around knowing that Ayi spoke absolutely no English, also evaporated as I experienced her earnest desire to communicate with me and to understand what I liked or did not like. We communicated quite well non-verbally, each having a sincere attitude to want to understand each other. I liked her personality and thought it will be fun relating to her. Besides, I had planned on improving a lot on my Chinese while here.
In spite of the modern environment, my first night was still spent freezing for a few hours while waiting for the fancy floor heating system to start taking effect. I put on several layers of clothes and used a hair dryer to blow heat on my feet in order to warm them up enough to fall sleep. Ayi said she would leave to go home but would come in the morning to show me where I could go for my daily run. While waiting for my body to warm up I turned on my iPad to see if I could log on. I was very glad to find I could link to Google!
Ayi showed up the next morning at 7am wearing long skinny jeans, a sweat jacket, and athletic shoes. I was quite surprised that she appeared to want to go on my morning run with me, and wasn’t quite sure how we would do this. I had been a marathon runner in the past, and then in the past few years turned into a half marathoner, and thrived on my daily 5 mile run and my weekly 13 mile run, which I always did, alone. I could not imagine that she would run with me in that outfit, but nevertheless was willing to see what she had in mind.
We started off together but finding herself lagging behind, told me to go on ahead. I found that there was a nice circular route contained within the gated community I lived in so I was able to run at my pace and she at hers without the threat of me getting lost. After 40 minutes of this I saw that she was still trekking along. Very encouraged, I urged her on with simple Chinese phrases I had learned: “ni hen bang!” (你很棒you’re awesome!) “jia you!” (加油keep going!) She laughed and gave me thumbs up signs each time as I passed her by.
That night Brian further extended his generosity and welcome by asking Rebecca and Anna to treat me to an eleven course Chinese dinner. To get there we took the crowded subway to East Nanjing Road, a promenade full of lights, comparable to New York City’s Times Square. It was dazzling and strangely fulfilling to walk down this most modern part of China.
A karaoke singer with his small but amazingly powerful amplifier blasted his sultry voice across the broad walkway. About 20 paces to the right, a crowd of people huddled around another boom box blaring some sort of Chinese modern music. Front and center were three sixty-ish slightly overweight, very average looking women, shamelessly doing something that resembled the electric slide.
An impactful picture of modern day Shanghai.
A TRIP OUT OF THE COUNTRY
I had planned the timing of this China trip around a Christian conference in Bangkok, Thailand where the persecuted church of China would be represented. Since it was cheaper to make a round trip from Shanghai to Bangkok and back, and another round trip from the US to Shanghai and back than it would be to make a three legged one-way triangle from the US to Bangkok to Shanghai to the US, I decided to do it this way. One of the anticipated complications I would have, involved navigating the Chinese airport of Hongqiao on my own, dealing with the service people most of whom spoke very little English. Since my Chinese was so limited, I had to guess what the various station attendants were asking me to do based on my previous airport experiences.
I was quite proud of myself when I could pass myself off as being Chinese and respond with the right answer to get me past one check point to another. With each new task, my heart rate sped up and I concentrated hard on the next reply I needed to conjure up in Chinese: “Do you have any luggage to check in?” “bu” (不 no). “Your ID please.” “haode” (好的 ok). On the plane, “what would you like to drink?” “chengzhi” (橙汁 Orange Juice). I may have used the wrong Chinese inflection tones, but it was a thrill to be somewhat understood and to use my newly acquired language skills.
The next challenge was navigating Bangkok with absolutely no knowledge of Thai. Fortunately, there were English speakers at the airport that helped with catching the cab. Once I got to the hotel I would meet up with friends and other English speakers.
It was a relief to see my American friends and attend the conference together. I was not disappointed by the long awaited contact with a septuagenarian Chinese elder who had been imprisoned in China for half of his life because of his Christian faith. He spoke with such grace and authority and I was saddened that I could not understand a word he said. Upon sharing my heart for China with a bilingual Singaporean, I could not help breaking down in tears out of joy for being there and frustration with my inadequate language skills. How my heart broke for China.
On our last day in Bangkok, some Asian American Christian friends Flerida and Alex and Alex’s Thai wife Mem took us around Bangkok. The women went to get pedicures while the men went shopping. While getting our toes done, Flerida asked Mem to translate as she asked the lady who was servicing her if she had a lung problem. The young lady appearing to be in her 30’s thought that was an odd question but said she in fact did have a sinus problem as well as a back problem with level 7 pain (level 10 being the highest on a scale of one to ten). Flerida looked at me and said, “close enough.” She asked the woman if she could lay her hand on her back. Still in shock and wonder, the lady consented and Flerida got out of her comfortable chair and placed her hand on the woman’s back. In a few moments the woman’s face lit up and said she was feeling a warm heat that started to spread from Flerida’s hand on her back into her lung area. She was so amazed. We were as well. Flerida gave me a cue to explain to her what was going on. I said Jesus was the one who had healed her, and if she wished she could thank Him and ask Him to become the Lord of her life.
The woman doing my nails seemed very interested in what was happening so we asked her if she believed. She all too quickly agreed and we asked Mem to translate for us as we prayed with both of them to accept Jesus into their hearts. The first young lady was so filled with joy that she was unable to stop laughing and smiling. To our complete surprise, after our nails were done, she brought out a small cake from the refrigerator that she had been looking forward to eating herself, and gave it to Flerida.
We instructed them further regarding the basics of the Christian faith, recommending that they find a local church or fellowship. The woman who was doing my nails said she had a Christian friend and said she had gone to church before but had discontinued because she was too busy. She was sure she could ask her again about going together, and this time it would be different.
We had by then made quite a spectacle in the salon, and when they finished doing our pedicures, three of the women employees who were also observing came out rejoicing. The five of them formed a line and in true Thai form placed their palms together and bowed to us all at once saying thank you and good bye.
It was a great six days in Thailand. I said goodbye and excitedly boarded a plane back to Shanghai by myself.
Was it my imagination or did more people seem to speak English in Bangkok than in Shanghai? Well at least the signage seemed slightly more helpful to English speakers there. In spite of my struggle to understand the Chinese signs with my limited reading skills, I still felt oddly more at home in Shanghai than in Thailand. Maybe it was because I was staying in a comfortable home for a long period of time, or maybe it was the feeling that my heart was so much more prepared to be in China for the long term and thus I was feeling aligned with my destiny here.
I finally settled into my first day of essentially being alone after constant over-stimulation. I have to admit it did feel a little lonely, even for an introvert who up until now had been longing for time alone. Once the air cleared from all of the socializing, I realized I was now in a foreign country all by myself and would need to gain communication skills rapidly to get around.
Getting my priorities in order, I studied some hair salon vocabulary today in order to go out by myself and get my hair done. After memorizing 剪头发“jian toufa” (cut hair) and 染头发 “ran toufa” (color hair), I made my way out into the neighborhood to find someone who could understand me.
I had practiced the Chinese phrase, “I’m sorry, I don’t know how to speak Chinese,” in order to get people’s immediate sympathy, and I found that it usually worked, causing them to be amused, friendly, and willing to help. My first visit to the hair stylist was successful, in that I got what I wanted. I in fact was so pleased with the service the young girl gave me, that I gave her an 18% tip equivalent to $1.50. Her face lit up, “really?” she asked. It made her day and mine too, having such an exchange.
Huang Ayi came by later that day after finishing her other house cleaning job, in order to chat with me and make sure I was ok. She expressed herself with such an earnest simple manner that it was hard not to laugh and be put at ease, as she tried so intently on communicating such non-essential things like “an orange grows in places where it’s hot” and “[another fruit] grows in places where it is cold.” It took me 30 minutes to try and figure out what that other fruit was and I actually still am not sure what it is.
She proposed we go to the supermarket together to buy the kind of food I wanted. I agreed, assuming we would walk to a store close by. Instead she told me to wait while she brought her small electric motor bike to me. I could not imagine that she meant for the both of us to get on to this child sized vehicle with such a low single seat and an even lower luggage rack in back of the seat, that was supposed to hold me on it. Somehow we managed to fit ourselves on the bike and even managed to bring back four shopping bags hanging off of her handle bars along with a ten kilogram bag of rice placed on the floor of this small vehicle.
The supermarket was much like a super-Walmart or a Chinese 99 Ranch grocery market, with small shopping carts that we pushed through the aisles. Apart from the Chinese signage, the biggest difference from the grocery markets in the US was an attitude among the shoppers, of complete unawareness toward the other people around them. Ayi herself parked our cart in the middle of an aisle in a slanted manner blocking anyone else from going through, and grabbed a few kumquats, giving one to me and popping another in her mouth. Awkwardly cringing at this action, I put mine back where it came from when she wasn’t looking. When checking out, the cashier mouthed something off to me at which point Ayi intercepted the message and told him, “ta ting bu dong” 她听不懂,which essentially means “she doesn’t understand anything you are saying.” Even though I can understand, or at least can guess a lot of what people are saying to me in these settings, I decided it would be better to let her handle things. I guessed that she is probably younger than I was, but was doing an excellent job of mothering me.
After bringing me home, Ayi asked me if I wanted to go to Qibao the next morning, which is supposed to be a famous place that was relatively nearby. She said we could go by bus. Having no idea what Qibao was, I agreed.
The next morning Huang Ayi surprised me by coming to pick me up on her little “motuoche” 摩托车 or motorbike. A “che” 车 or “vehicle” when preceded by “qi” with an upward inflection means to pedal a bike but when preceded by a “qi” with a downward inflection means to ride as a bus or a car. I don’t know what she said but I found my assumption that we would ride a bus was incorrect, and I would have to get on her same little electric motor bike, which I had precariously climbed on the previous day. My concern reemerged as I realized the drive to Qibao would be much farther than the drive to the supermarket. Nevertheless, seeing how confident Ayi was that she knew what she was doing, I found myself conceding to her plan, and a few minutes later clinging on for dear life on a five-mile helmetless ride on the back seat of her motuoche摩托车.
How quickly I had come to trust my Ayi and her adept driving abilities on this little vehicle, swerving through the oncoming traffic of the divider-less, two-way bike lane, amidst the busy Shanghai streets. I found that people mostly tend to obey the traffic lights, until they get tired of it and decide not to. During the duration of a green light or even a red light for that matter, a row of motor bikes would typically form in the middle of a busy intersection waiting to weave their way through any open space that another vehicle would relinquish. I found it better not to try and look over or around her head, which I could not do anyway because my seat was considerably lower than hers and humorously close to the ground, and because I would probably throw off the balance of the bike if I knew what was coming at me. I found it best to trust my Ayi to do her thing, confidently weaving through spaces just barely wide enough to let us through, if I squeezed my legs together.
Qibao was an old village that was restored and revitalized to become one of just a few cities in the area typifying an ancient Southern Chinese style. After pushing and shoving our way through the two-way alley filled with a meandering crowd who stopped with unpredictable suddenness while shopping for food, clothing and trinkets from vendors that packed both sides of the narrow walkway, we came upon the center attraction of the village, an old style bridge extending over a now grossly polluted canal.
Polluted water and air have become somewhat of a travesty and a trademark of modern day China, the product of overdevelopment, overpopulation, and a lack of personal awareness and concern of one’s relationship to their surroundings and effect on their environment. It breeds a sort of helplessness, causing a person to lose their sense of ability to effect the massive national pollution problem with their personal moment by moment choices to put things in their right place. While being an adamant recycler of glass, plastic and paper in the US, I found myself tossing my water bottles into the normal trash cans, being told it doesn’t really matter because there are way too many people who don’t pay attention to these things, and in the end someone a lot poorer and more desperate will sort them out because they will need the money they can get from sorting it and taking it to the right place.
Of grave concern to me were the many stray dogs I saw on the streets laying around in the chilly weather without leashes or food. Each time I saw one I found myself needing to stop to look at them, debating on what to do, as if I could do anything, but deciding it was generally not a good idea to try to pet them. I looked into their eyes, blessed them and tried to communicate care for them through my prayers and compassionate thoughts.
I told Ayi that I loved pets and was very sad to see these strays. Later that day she bargained with a vendor for a little turtle for her daughter Mengmeng, which came with a container and some food, for less than four dollars. I told her the turtle needs a friend, so I bought another one. She laughed and accepted.
Ayi wanted to take me to her home which was close by, and excited to see where she lived, I accepted. We turned into what in my hometown of Los Angeles, I would never have ever imagined was a neighborhood. It was a little street that led into a dirt alley about three meters wide, where she stopped her bike at a dank musty building she said was her house. She unlocked a padlock to a studio that was a little smaller than the size of my bedroom. There she, her husband, her adult son and her sixteen year old daughter lived, all four of them sharing one bunk bed. There was a very small washing machine, a small fridge, a space heater, a mounted air conditioner and a TV all which she was very proud of. There was one seat in the room, an old desk chair, on which she told me to make myself comfortable.
Her neighbors, a couple who lived one “dorm room” away, passed by and said hello. They began chatting and Ayi told them I was from the US. I inserted a comment in Chinese and they were surprised I had been tracking with their conversation. They excitedly invited me into their living space next door. It was not any bigger, but less cluttered and with a window. They brought out five different dictionaries and I thought they told me their daughter was studying hard. The woman pulled out her smart phone to communicate by writing on her translator app while I pulled out my iPhone dictionary. We talked about many things which, I think I understood. They told me they paid 500 RMB (about $90 USD) per month rent, and brought home 10,000 RMB (about $1600 USD) per month, combined pay. I said, “that’s not bad, you can save a lot.” The husband offered me sticky rice which he said he is very good at making. They assured me that it was “weisheng” (卫生) sanitary. It was very good. He asked if in the US there were such bad living spaces as this. I said, “oh yes,” (though never actually having been in one). He asked if in the US there were “nong min”(农民) peasants like them. I said that was a difficult question but, more or less, yes. I asked if they believed in God. The man answered somewhat affirmatively, though he went on to explain that his wife and mother were Christians like me, though he was not because he had no time.
When his wife and I were alone I spent time encouraging her in the Word and praying together using our translator apps. I gave her a Chinese bible that I had brought from Thailand. She was grateful since she said she had given away the one she once had.
Ayi spent the rest of her afternoon showing me around what I realized now, was a little village. There were hundreds of families living in little studios like hers, sharing 4 community bathrooms that was a good half a block away where they had to pay .05 RMB each time, as well as a one-person public shower resembling a public telephone booth which they could pay for and use. There were about 15 water faucets lined up next to each other outside Ayi’s house, and they leaked on to a community basin. Each household locked their faucet with their own padlock. There was a “main street” the size of almost two car widths where residents shopped at grocery stands and lingered at the pub while motor bikes and bicycles honked at pedestrians to make way for them to get past. There was a barber shop, a small restaurant, a mahjong hall, even an internet bar.
All in all it was an eye-opening experience and I will be glad to have the chance to go back.
I came home alone to sleep by myself in a big empty house. Up until that point I had put my house key in a certain pocket in my purse. My key was not in my usual pocket. I saw on my phone that I used as for a light that the time was 22:22. The Lord reminded me of his words in Isaiah 22:22, “I will place on his shoulder the key to the house of David; what he opens no one can shut, and what he shuts no one can open.” After noting this I found my key.
I also saw 16:16 and 10:10 show up on my phone today and not knowing what else to make of this, I received those numbers into my spirit. John 10:10 was to become a theme on a future trip, but I didn’t know that yet.
Ayi asked me several times over the next few days if I would come home with her for a few hours, saying I don’t have to worry about transportation because she would take me via her motor bike. The truth was, as earnest as my intentions were, it was hard to get myself to go back to that environment. I had to use increasingly stronger tones to say “no” since she kept asking, almost begging. I know the need is great in Ayi’s community and I had thought of it as somewhat of a launching pad to share the gospel.
Later that day a friend, who was praying for me from the US wrote to me saying, “There is something about you being there…laying down roots or a foundation or something like that…not sure, but that’s my sense. It feels rather important though. There is a picture of a launching pad with something, I’m not sure what, being launched off it… The establishment of the launching pad is what is important though.”
Having realized her words to me were relevant to this situation, I told Ayi I could offer to tutor English to her daughter Mengmeng, her neighbor’s daughter He Ying, and a few other families if they interested. Ayi agreed.
At the end of the day when Ayi and I had a chance to sit down for dinner and talk about what she believed in. She said she believes in nothing. Orphaned from the time she was six, she told me the only religious practice for her is participating in a Chinese festival of the dead when she honors her parents every year. It took me an hour to look up all of the new words but it is these types of conversations that make me feel most fulfilled and like we are getting to the heart of some important matter.
XIAMEN
I took a two day break to travel to the beautiful southern seaside city of Xiamen in order to meet a young college junior named Gavin who I had met on my language exchange website. After only half a year of getting to know him online, I decided I really liked him and enjoyed his wholesome polite nature. Gavin, an engineering student and the only son of farmers, spent months trying to prepare me for my daunting trip to China with some basic survival language skills. He himself had never been to Beijing or Shanghai, let alone anywhere outside the country so I decided it would be a great idea to visit him and encourage him. He confidently offered to arrange a hotel stay for me on his college campus for $19 per night. This was convincing enough for me to finalize a ninety minute plane ride from Shanghai to his city of Xiamen.
Upon my arrival, Gavin and his roommate Zhu, two wonderfully polite young men met me and took me on board the public bus and subway for 2 RMB (roughly $.36). When we arrived at their university hotel, which they said was not necessary to reserve a room ahead of time, we found it was completely booked that night because of a conference. Embarrassed, they sat on a lobby couch and discussed what they should do about my situation. While they were talking, a Chinese woman with a young child overheard their conversation and excitedly came over to greet me in English, saying to her young girl, “look! an American! Let’s make friends!”
The woman named Cui turned out to be a material engineer professor at the university. She shared that last year she went to the UK as an overseas scholar where her 10 year old daughter was able to receive some English language education. Hoping her daughter would speak to me in English, she invited us to dinner at the hotel restaurant and ordered quite a sumptuous meal for the 5 of us. Afterwards, using her faculty ID, she pulled the necessary strings in order to get me into the hotel at an even more discounted rate. We exchanged personal information for future contact, and she encouraged me to apply for a position teaching English at their university. I really did not think I would qualify but was grateful for the encouraging gesture. Gavin coaxed me further to apply, and I was surprised to find that after sending the school my resume, they did in fact offer me the job. I seriously considered if I was ready to move to China for a year. At that time I decided, I was not.
The next morning Gavin took me to Gu3lang4yu2 鼓浪屿Island, what I thought was like an adult large scale version of Tom Sawyer Island at Disneyland. The stairs that contoured the steep hills that constituted the island provided great exercise and stunning ocean views. We did all this on a student’s budget: breakfast at the university cafeteria – $2, ferry boat to island – $8, ticket to see the 5 of the biggest features on the island – $16 (but free for Gavin who was a student), bus to and from the ferry terminal – $2, lunch on the island for both of us – $10, dinner at the student cafeteria for both of us – $5.
Over lunch I lowered my voice to ask him if he believed in God. As expected, he said he did not. I told him that I came here hoping to let him know that there in fact is a God and that this God loved him. As a gift at the end of the day, I gave him a bible and explained a little about it. He was very touched and promised to start reading it and share it with his parents and friends. I had no expectation on that day that Gavin would one day receive the Lord as his Savior but within a few years he too was to believe.
SHANGHAI
I returned back to Shanghai and as promised, began volunteering at Huang Ayi’s community by teaching English to sixteen year old Mengmeng, her young adult older brother, and ten year old He Ying. I had asked Rebecca to help me to prepare a basic Gospel presentation in Chinese, and she helped me to find the right words to share some verses and examples to explain who God was. The three students seemed willing to try to understand me as I shared principle one: that there is a God and He loves you.
After the lesson Huang Ayi’s husband and brother came over and joined the family in a dinner for six adults in this bedroom-sized house. They gave me the only chair while the rest of them stood up. It felt like having snacks in a college dorm room or like camping in a cabin, only this room was not as big as what I would have experienced in either setting in the US.
On the next day I decided to buckle down and find a Chinese tutor. Time had gone by quickly and I only had two more short weeks to grasp all that I could of this language. Unable to understand even the simplest of announcements and conversations involving little children, overwhelmed by the restaurant menus, only venturing to order twice by pointing to pictures, I was well aware that I had much to learn. I quickly found someone via the Chinese search engine Baidu.com, and arranged to meet daily with someone over the next 10 days. This someone turned out to be Lisa Li, a young recently married Chinese woman who studied at an Australian university then returned back to China to work. Lisa would be my instructor and friend for the next 4 years. She would eventually pray to receive Christ as her Savior. But now she was still an atheist.
I have continued to dream wild dreams and to see the numbers 10:10 and 16:16 a lot. I am learning not to try too hard to understand what it meant before it was time, I continued just to receive them in my spirit. My running meanwhile expanded to different regions of the suburb of Hongqiao where Brian lived. As I ran I felt the land imparting something to me and I found myself praying over and gleaning what it had to offer me in the spirit.
By far the worst part of my teaching my first English class at Ayi’s community was the electric motor bike ride, and I had fearfully anticipated having to ride it again when I returned back for the second class. When that time arrived, I was surprised to find that when I Ayi came to pick me up, her older sister was also with her. As is the custom among older Chinese, she asked me almost immediately how old I was in order to compare our ages. Finding she was slightly older, she immediately took me on as her new best friend, preferring to hold my hand tightly wherever we went. She pointed at me and with her boisterous deliberate voice said, “my sister likes you.” “Her daughter should be your goddaughter.” She waited for me to look up these words on my translator app. I nervously wondered what she meant and laughed it off.
I asked how the three of us were all going to get to Ayi’s house some five miles away if there was only one small motor bike. “I don’t know,” Ayi said confounded, as if that was her first time realizing there might be a problem. She suggested one or both of us take the bus. I really did not have the ability to know how to do this so her sister said she would go with me. As we walked to the bus stop some distance away, Ayi who was puttering on her motor bike next to us flagged down another man on an even smaller motorbike than hers and asked if he could take me on the back of his bike while she took her sister on the back of hers. If I was at all fearful of riding on Ayi’s back seat, I was helplessly terrified on the back of this man’s even more precariously low back seat. I just had to trust that God had brought me to China and He would not have me die so soon this way.
We arrived in one piece, and after presenting the second point of the Gospel to my English class of three, Ayi took me home on the back seat of her own motor bike which actually began to feel not so terrifying anymore.
A BARGAIN
Initially upon arriving in Shanghai after the long plane ride, my shoulder muscles got very tight, something I was able to remedy by asking Ayi to help me find a good massage place. Never having got one herself, she blindly took me to a place right across the street from Brian’s community. Two single women in their 30s had just opened up their own business and were glad to offer me a first timer rate of 168RMB ($28) for 90 min. I was very pleased with my massage therapist Jiaojiao and was looking forward to going back. On my second visit though, they told me it was 880RMB ($146)for the same service. Shocked and disappointed, I walked away telling Ayi, 太贵 “tai gui” (too expensive). Ayi who had been mediating our discussions by explaining their Chinese to me using her simpler Chinese, explained that after the first visit, a customer then has to buy a package of 10 massages in order for the cost to come down to 298RMB per 90 minute massage visit. I would not be here long enough to get 10 massages so this was not possible.
I went on to try and find another good place but after failing and still having the intense shoulder pain, I became desperate enough to go back to Jiaojiao, even if I had to pay the more expensive price. On this inspired day I walked over to the massage place by myself and asked, using some pencil and paper and limited Chinese, asking how much would it be for a package of 3? They said could not offer me a package of 3, but they could give me a 298RMB ($50) price if I buy 5. I said, “OK!” thinking to myself, “I think I just struck a bargain!” 讨价还价 ”taojiahuanjia” is the cultural art of negotiating a lower price, a somewhat intimidating activity for some Westerners to have to deal with. I told Ayi who was very proud of me, and she and I enjoyed relaying the story to the others.
THE TACTICAL PRESENCE
As the days went by and as China loses its shock value on me, I found myself more comfortable running across large districts, getting myself lost and found as is my custom. On one day, as I ventured into the district of Jing’ansi, I stumbled upon a European style building resembling a church, though because of the security guard at the gate, I guessed that it might be something else. It did have the appearance of some kind of public attraction so I asked the guard if I could go in. He nodded and let me through. I found it strangely empty, and I felt conspicuously out of place, not quite sure where I was allowed to look around. Someone came out of a back room where a meeting was taking place and apologized, asking if I needed help. When I opened my mouth to reveal my very poor basic Chinese, he switched over to English and fluently explained that this was a Communist Party Museum, and asked if I wanted a guided tour.
“Yes of course!” I said.
He proceeded to lead me through the second and third floors describing each exhibit and giving me a thorough history of 20th century China. Another man walked into the museum and asked him something in Chinese. My guide said something to the effect of “not now.” Surprised at the personal attention I was getting I asked what the man said. My guide said he was another customer who wanted a tour but he was busy with me now so he would have to wait.
As I crossed an exhibit about the 1937 Japanese invasion of Shanghai I felt an invisible shower of oil pour down my head and over my body. Japan had invaded The Northeastern part of China and was moving It was a new sensation, close to the goose bumps I had felt in the past when calling on the Lord, but this came from my head downward and was very intense and lingering. I responded by “receiving” the sensation, the same way I “received” the number coincidences I could not explain or understand. I noted that the sensation came back as I looked at one other wax figure exhibit that depicted the first Communist Party meeting held in 1921on a boat on South Lake in the nearby city of Jiaxing. The meeting was the beginning of the official usage of the term “China’s Communist Part” or “zhongguo guochandang” 中国国产党, and the beginning of the Communist Revolution in China. I received the sensation again, and stopped for a moment, not being able or willing to move out from under what felt like spiritual anointing oil.
BEING JAPANESE
Growing up in Hawaii as part of the 3rd and 4th generation Japanese American sub-culture, my friends and I had assimilated so well into the Asian-Hawaiian American society and although we surely knew which racial group we identified with, we paid very little attention to the actual nations that our grandparents came from.
That is to say, although I knew I was different from my Chinese American, Korean American, and Filipino American friends in attitudes, habits, and cultural practices, I experienced an much greater disconnect from any Japanese foreigners who had just come to Hawaii within my generation. The disconnect my Asian American friends and I felt toward Asians from Asia were magnified by our jokes and prejudices against even those who shared our same ancestral heritage.
For better or worse, this probably accounted for the ignorance we had toward Asian history and the hatred we should have felt toward each other if we only knew what had gone on among our relatives across the Pacific Ocean.
The Japanese Americans in Hawaii after World War II were given the worst, lowest paying jobs that no one wanted. Ironically these government jobs eventually became the most secure, high paying, sought after jobs for the next generation. This post WWII working class Japanese Americans, because of their stable qualities and strong work ethic, and because they held a slightly greater majority than other ethnic groups, created a dominant sub-culture, and established a pride amongst themselves, thinking that they were somewhat more competent that the other sub-cultures.
I did not stop to consider how insular and offensive my attitude as a Japanese American was, until I moved out of Hawaii in my early twenties to go to graduate seminary school in the Midwest. There I became friends with Yong Mo, a Korean single woman in her forties. I never stopped then to wonder about what kind of profound call God had on her life that lead her to not get married but instead to pursue a ministry degree at a seminary at that age. All I thought of at that moment was, that she was old and single, and I, unlike her, had my whole life ahead of me.
It was my first July Fourth away from home when I encountered Yong Mo in the kitchen of our singles dormitory.
Does Korea have an Independence Day?” I asked her.
“Yes!” she said.
“Oh,… who did you gain your independence from?” I asked blankly.
She looked at the floor in the humblest most unassuming posture toward me. “Japan,” she said.
I paused and looked at her in unbelief. “You’re kidding me!” I said.
I was suddenly so embarrassed, not only that I had no clue about the pain the nation of my heritage caused others, but that I, myself had carried such an arrogant and insular attitude up to that point. I apologized to Yong Mo and she graciously received it. From that point onward, God in his patience allowed me to gradually uncover the brutal details of the offenses that Japan had committed against its neighbors, and would increase my capacity to mature my heart in order to hear and carry the painful personal stories I would hear in years to come that would provide a new grid to shape my attitude and actions toward Asia in future years.
DISCERNMENT
What I did not know then, was how the exhibits I saw in the Communist Party Museum that day would be precursors and hints to where the Lord was going to lead me in future visits.
When the tour was over the guide gave me a map with highlighted locations nearby, one of which stood out to me. It was Mao Zedong’s（毛泽东）former house. As I headed to find his house a five kilometer walk away, I felt the rush of oil pour down my head yet another two times. I realized I had not eaten breakfast or lunch, had no water and was quite famished, and still was quite limited in knowing how to obtain food. I knew I would want to head back to a more familiar place so I could fill my stomach, yet felt an even stronger an urge push me away from familiarity and toward the unknown destination of Mao’s old house.
It was a moment of clarity of mission, that was all too soon dashed by the disappointment of finding I arrived at Mao’s house an hour after the exhibit had closed for the afternoon. I would have to come back another day.
Earlier on this trip a friend emailed and helped me interpret one of my more fantastically colorful dreams, saying it was warning me to be particularly discerning regarding what I do. Friends would argue, and I would agree, that being discerning toward the tasks I take on is not one of my natural strong points. I knew this friend’s word was from the Lord. I made a list of “good things” that I planned to do in the near future, in order to carefully pray through what I needed to say “no” to, if any. After praying for the gift of discernment and after experiencing the events of today, I could only be grateful for this new physical sensation on my body which I have since come to identify as a tool for discernment.
On a day while with Rebecca who had been helping me further translate the Gospel for my English class, suddenly had a bright idea to introduce me to her dance teacher who she said, “was also a very sincere Christian.” “In fact,” she said, “she hosts a weekly meeting in her home!”
That night I met He Yan and her husband and was invited to attend my first house church in China.
Quite sure that this was God’s doing, I spent the next afternoon walking and familiarizing myself with a new part of Shanghai, allowing myself to get lost, and asking people for directions using my limited Chinese. I found the activity quite enjoyable. When it was time to meet my host, I found them at a designated place where they led me to their apartment where a group of about 25 mostly new Christians enjoyed a nine course meal that He Yan and her friend cooked. Most of the group spoke English and allowed me to share my story with them. I shared about my journey that led me to this place and teared up as I shared my grief over the violence and destruction the Japanese had caused upon Chinese land. Deeply touched, several reached out to me and gave me contact cards. I was also able to host the leaders in Los Angeles when they visited the following year.
During my last week in China I felt a surprisingly deep grief in my realization that it was already almost time to leave. My heart had grown for the people there and I also feared my intensity for acquiring the language would drop without the constant stimulation of hearing the conversations which had caused me to constantly desire to stretch and grow into the new world that surrounded me while there.
I made one last visit to the Ayi’s community to meet with Mengmeng and He Ying. I presented the last point of the Gospel: That Jesus was God’s son who loved us so much that came to earth to give us eternal life if we believed in him (John 3:16 paraphrased). He Ying who looked to Mengmeng as an older sister excitedly raised her hand, saying she was willing to receive Jesus as her personal Lord and Savior. Mengmeng in her quiet and hesitant manner was unable to agree. He Ying, a little taken aback by Mengmeng’s hesitancy to believe, glanced at her sadly, then continued to grin and look at me, bouncing up and down on her seat. After winding down our conversation He Ying asked if she could speak to me in her “house.” Moved by her polite but bold etiquette, I followed her into the unit next door. She looked at me in a concerned way and asked, “how can I see you in the future?” I said, “do you have email?” She said no, she had no computer or internet connection. “Do you have a phone?” She said no. “Do you have an address for me to write you letters?” Again the answer was no. I shrugged, unable to think of any other option. “I’ll visit you in the future,” I promised. I would somehow have to make it back to this place.
Weather predictions showed it was supposed to rain heavily during my last stretch and I did in fact wake at 5am to a thunderstorm on my second to the last day. I was thinking how glad I was that I had run the previous afternoon in case it was too rainy to go today. At 7am the rain lightened up and seeing my opportunity to run the land on what could be my final time, I got dressed. Then it poured again. While I love running in light rain, I don’t at all like running in heavy rain or wind, and I had an unpleasant image of getting my shoes soaked in puddles. I changed back to my pajamas but surprisingly found myself very sad that I had to miss this window of opportunity. Listening on my iPod to Psalm 79 which spoke about the Lord’s provision, I was moved to ask Him to provide a clear path for me from the rain and puddles. While doing so I by faith changed back into my running clothes. Then as I stepped out of the building, the miracle happened. The Lord held back the rain completely for 40 minutes, and provided a path so that I did not have to step into any puddles or get my shoes soaked. As I ran I prayed for the nation of China, the government and the people I’ve met.
Back at Brian’s home I saw the unused laptop I had brought from the States, lying in the closet. I felt like I wanted to give it to He Ying in order to keep in touch. I needed a new computer anyway. After erasing most of my files though, I got stuck on letting go of some files which I was not so willing to delete because it was my only copy. In the end I decided this was too much of a rush job to try and erase everything, not to mention not being able to delete my passwords.
On my last morning in Shanghai, the weather report again showed it was supposed to rain heavily all day but like yesterday, I prayed for the Lord to make a way for me. And so I again by faith set out to run at 6am. It was a nice 50 degree cloudy morning. The streets were clear since it was a Saturday and I listened to the audio reading of the Gospel of Matthew chapters 6-13. While running I came across a small take out sushi container left on the street. The Lord called my attention to it as I ran past it, and I quickly decided it would cost me very little to stop and ask what he was calling me to do with it. He said to pick it up and throw it away so I put it into a nearby trash can. It was a minor inconvenience but in doing so, God connected me to caring for his land, in the same way he asked me to cleanse the land in Lancaster, California a few months ago.
After running about 3 miles, I found the urge to run on the road that I had initially walked on when going to the subway from Brian’s house with Ayi, Meng Meng and Anna. I had since dropped that route to take a preferred less developed road to the subway. I would have to extend my run a mile past what I intended in order to cover this stretch but in doing so I found my prayers intensified for the land and the people. The Matthew passages I had been listening to seemed to match the desires of my heart for this land. I asked if He would give me the opportunity to come back and take further spiritual possession over the land. The physical sensation of oil rushed back over my head and poured over me for the rest of the run, and my sense was of His assurance that he would indeed bring me back again and again.
Before I left, I told Rebecca about my conflicted feelings toward not being able to give my computer to He Ying. Rebecca said that a few years ago Mengmeng was in the same boat, but now she has a computer set up because of Huang Ayi. She said that each family has to make good decisions and figure out how to make the transition from the simple and poor rural life of the country side into the more demanding city life. She encouraged me to not feel bad about the situation, but to encourage He Ying to develop her skills and learn to buy her own things. Her reasoning put me at ease and I thought at least for the moment, that this was good advice.
I went home to Ayi who encouraged me to rest for a few hours before having to take my flight back to the US. I said I had just a little packing and mostly wanted to sit and chat. She shared that her housing community would be torn down at some point because the land in Shanghai is valuable and the owners are losing money with such uses of land. She threw out bigger vocabulary words which I had to look up, but since I was now able to understand most of the other easier words, I did not have to look up things quite so often. I said I would pray for her and that housing situation. She had also shared with me that she came to Shanghai by herself to take a housekeeping job when Mengmeng was only two years of age. She was here for four years before her husband and children were able to join her. She said back home in the countryside they owned a house which had many more rooms than the little one she lives in now, but the wood broke so now they only own the foundation, and so they found the motivation to move to the city to pursue a bigger dream.
I realized that what she did as a housekeeper, she did proudly because it is what she does well, and she made a way for herself and her family by doing what she does, very competently. During a pause in our conversation I gave her a tract I picked up from the government church, sharing the gospel in Chinese. She started to read it. I said, “神爱我，我爱你， 神爱你。” (God loves me, I love you, God loves you). She nodded but didn’t look at me for very long. She was engrossed in the tract. I wrote on my Google translator, “please consider that there is a God.” She nodded and kept reading. I sat with her as she read until Anna came to pick me up to take me to the airport.
This is the poignant picture I leave with. A very meaningful day concluding my first trip to China after 30 years.
