Month: September 2019

Light. This was a theme for my recent trip to Asia. I sensed that this was of God, and wrote about that the start of my current adventure. That is recorded in a blog post called ‘Daughters of Light’. 

And now, at the end of the trip, God has brought this theme to mind again. 

As I draft this post, I’m on a plane bound for Australia. Again. In my mind, I look back over the many people and places that have filled my days these last few weeks. It’s a privileged life I lead, and one which I don’t take for granted. I hope and pray that I have been an encouragement to my friends as well as to others I met along the way. I sincerely hope that I have scattered light wherever I travelled. 

I am not allowed my cabin bag for half an hour or so because I am seated in an emergency exit row. Mindlessly, I pull the China Southern magazine from the seat pocket in front of me and flip it open it. The first article my eyes light upon is a lovely poem. 

My heart stirs. I think of the way that ‘light’ has been the main theme this whole trip long. I sense God’s touch in the fact that I am finishing the trip with this poem on the same topic … and now incorporating flowers too. 

The Poem Translated

“Who opens the windows of heaven, scattering holy light below?

“Who lays out the firmament of the heavens, white breaking waves billowing at his word?

“Who directs dreams, crashing through floating clouds? 

“Whose words ring in my ears, truth warming my heart?

——

“Cotton flower, you reflect the sun’s rays, dancing on the clouds,

“Cotton flower, you adorn this home in the sky, bursting into bloom in the ocean of spirits.

——

“Who sings into being the destiny of the sky?

“Who carries the dreams of our lives? 

“Whose smile makes us intoxicated?

“Who carries us along towards revival?”

(A translation of a Chinese poem by Chen Cheng, published in the China Southern inflight magazine, September 2019.)

The Meaning

The poem was written by a poet who loves his country. He writes of a flower called ‘kapok’. It is the city flower of Guangzhou, the city in which this airline hubs. It is commonly referred to as ‘the cotton tree’. Actually, the flower is bright red and bursts into bloom in spring, filling the city with colour and beauty. At first, I reason that the author is particularly thinking of the everyday name of this flower, ‘the cotton flower’, and likening it to the white fluffy clouds beneath our plane which really do resemble cotton balls. Then, as the sun sets and the clouds turn red, I can see that the brilliant red flower image works too.

The poem, however, could well point to the author of light, creator of flowers, and inspirer of dreams. I pray it in Chinese, because that is more beautiful that the English translation provided in the magazine. I have suggested an alternative translation above because, translation snob that I am, I wasn’t satisfied with the official version. 

Questions and Answers

Who opens the windows of heaven, scattering holy light below? The poet expects the answer to be the city flower of Guangzhou, but I suggest that there is one far greater. 

Jesus called himself ‘The Light of the World’ (John 8:12). He calls us, his people, to reflect his light, drawing attention to him in the world in which we live (Matthew 5:16). I am reminded of a song called 将天敞开，你的荣耀降下来 (May the Heavens Open and Your Glory Descend), which Chinese Christians sing. Look it up online if you’re interested – it is sung by the group 赞美之泉 Streams of Praise.

Who directs dreams? Throughout Scripture, we read of God directing and his servants  interpreting literal dreams. Most of us have experienced him directing our figurative dreams too.

Whose truths, whispered in our ears, warms our hearts? Who carries directs our destinies? Whose smile intoxicates us in a far more profound way than mere alcohol? Who refreshes and renews us? 

Back to ‘normal’

My trip is almost over. I am looking forward to life getting ‘back to normal’ – a routine which is fulfilling and meaningful and is in no way just ‘filling in time’ before my next travel abroad. And yet there is always something special about the time I spend as an outsider in this part of the world. I also sense something special about the way that the theme of light bookended this trip.  I’m not quite sure what to make of it just yet. For now, it is enough that the theme of light is noticed and, by blogging about it, reinforced. 

Thank goodness … thank God … that our value is not dependent on our own worth or competency.

Here, in a land far from ‘home’, I started the day reading about an ancient crippled man named Mephibosheth. King David, at the zenith of his power, specifically searched him out, determined to show him kindness for the sake of his father. The king gave Mephibosheth and his family a permanent home in the palace, as well as restoring his ancestral property. The BSF (Bible Study Fellowship) questions I was using for this study then took me to the New Testament, where I focused on how God does the same with us. The King lifts us out of obscurity though through no inherent value of our own, adopts us into his family, and gives us an inheritance.

Then I walked out the door, ready to take on the day.

In a rush

I slowly descended several flights of stairs and meandered down the street, stopping to admire a fluffy white dog leaving a vet’s surgery. Clothing shops displayed their colourful wares … or should that be ‘wears’?  I didn’t walk quickly because the humidity level was high and I wanted to remain fresh and dry. Hardly anyone walks fast here for the same reason.

But then it struck me … I had to go back and quickly. Without going into details, let me state that I suffer from an irritable bowel. There is medication that helps but I had only taken it just before leaving. It hadn’t yet had time to work.

Hurry, hurry, hurry. No time to admire the brown and black dog leaving the vet’s with a cone around his head. Up one fight of stairs, one and a half, two, two and a half, three … finally in the door and … ah … blessed relief. 

I call the IBS my ‘thorn in the flesh’. It keeps me humble. It’s something I’ve asked many times to have taken away. Although dietary changes have helped, at this point, it is still a challenge to be managed day to day.

Once again, I walk out the door, now dripping with sweat from my quick trip back.

At the post office

After wiping the perspiration from my face with a small yellow towel, I present a nicely wrapped birthday gift to the helpful post office lady. It is going to a friend in another part of this great country … but first it has to be inspected. I unwrap the gift, careful not to tear the pretty paper.

The post office clerk inspects the book, card and packets of seasonings I brought from Australia, There is no air flow in this stuffy room. All the forms in here feel damp.

She is satisfied that everything is in order. The young woman who came in after me, wanting to send a bottle of perfume to her mother in a far distant province, is not so fortunate. Liquids cannot be mailed.

I rewrap the present under the watch of the post office clerk. But it needs more tape. In the end, what had once been a tastefully wrapped gift is encircled with thick, wide, sturdy China Post tape. It’s not quite the look I was after.

Next comes the form. “Can you write in Chinese?” The kind lady looks at this dripping foreigner with some doubt.  Of course I can. Well … I can copy an address, anyhow. Only it turns out that I don’t have the address … I had been so sure that it was in my phone.

I pay for the box in which my clunky gift is now securely nestled, and explain that I am disorganised and unable to mail it after all.

A bus

After buying a sports drink to replenish the electrolytes I have lost over the past hour, I jump on a bus which I expect will take me to the next place I want to visit today. Bus 59 – I used to take it quite regularly. At least in this simplest of tasks, I know what I am doing.

I make my way down the back and count my blessings as I find a seat next to an open window. (Many of the windows don’t open because of the bus having dubious air-conditioning.) I watch the world go by – bicycles, buses, three wheelers and more. Then, to my surprise, the bus turns a corner.

It turns out that the bus route has changed due to roadworks. Oh no. I wait until we have crossed a major road I know, then get off, a full kilometre or two from where I want to go. I start walking. The humidity has intensified. Rain is imminent. My little yellow sweat-towel is saturated.

Mephibosheth and me

As I walk and drip, I reflect on Mephibosheth again. Our lives are very different. I can walk. He couldn’t. I am an ordinary Australian woman. He was the grandson of a Middle-Eastern king, a monarch whose power and popularity was just a memory, but a king, nonetheless. Neither of us were terribly productive (not based on my morning’s efforts, anyhow). And yet through no virtue of our own, both of us were shown favour by a king and welcomed into his home. 

In a world that craves control and capability, I act like a klutz and a cultural ignoramus. Yet in the kingdom of upside values, I am shown honour and worth. 

And now, I sit in an air-conditioned cafe drafting this blog post. I have sought solace in my ‘comfort zone’ and an iced Americano. But it is time to head out again, into ‘the real world’.

Incompetent and klutzy … the kingdom of God is made up of people just like me. And that’s reassuring. Especially on days like today.

(PS: This post was drafted after one frustrating morning last week. The day got better, and overall, my trip went very well, despite my cultural klutziness.)

‘Vanity, vanity, all is vanity, a chasing after the wind,’ wrote the philosopher. We can read his observations and interpretations in the book of Ecclesiastes. He concluded that life is meaningless and the best that we can do is enjoy each day as it comes and honour God, our Judge, throughout the days allotted to us.

I am no philosopher, but as I travel, I am observing lives quite different to my own. I see people making the best of life, striving for meaning in the midst of it. Without God, yes, all is meaningless … but life can still be quite rich along the way. 

The following descriptions are of people I have met recently. No identifying details have been shared.  Apart from the respect I have for their privacy, they also live in a part of the world where breaches of privacy are potentially more serious than in my own country.

The Nun

We caught the same bus up into the mountains. She sat tall, self-confident and very much alone. Her hair was shaved, her head shaped like those of people in the north where I lived for a time, a place where people used to put weights either side of their newborns’ heads so that the babies’ heads developed flat backs and rounded tops. What hopes did her parents cherish for their baby girl back then?

Now she wears the robes of a Tibetan nun, though she is not Tibetan. Her speech suggests that she is well educated and from the north. Her maroon robes, yellow undershirt and the cloth bag which tucks under her arm appear not even slightly faded or wrinkled. She snaps photos all the way up on her IPhone, like a tourist. Unlike an outsider, she pays for snacks at the rest stop with her phone too, rather than cash. 

What factors led her to take on a faith that is not part of her ethnic background? What caused her, presumably, to forsake wealth and career for a future with a people not her own?

The Driver

He sat on the side of the road, calling for passengers. I was the first, and, as it turned out, his only passenger. After waiting a while, being an impatient and extravagant tourist, I just paid for all four seats in his car so that my journey could get underway.

We soon established that I was just a few months older than him. “How many children do you have? What – none – why?! What – you’ve never married – why?! You must have a baby and very soon – your time is running out – I will find you a husband. No, it’s not impossible, but you might need a little medical help. What about it?!”

So far, our conversation wasn’t too different from that of many other drivers I have used. But his own story was unique – at least compared to parts of the world where I have lived.

‘The Driver’ shares a wife with his younger brother. That’s not uncommon in this area, There are three adults in his family and two children. The boy has been given to a monastery – he will never marry nor have children. The daughter was about to take an entrance exam to get into Teachers’ College. My offer to pray for God’s blessing on her exam was well received.

Then his home rings. Talking on a phone while driving is not a problem here. But the content of the phone call poses a big problem. His forehead crinkles, his eyebrows draw together. “I don’t know where he could be but I will try to find out,” he says. Many more phone calls follow in a language I don’t follow. 

It turns out that ‘The Driver’ has an important role in his community. It is a role that brings some honour but also significant trouble to him. His people are required to register with the authorities every year. One of those under his watch has gone missing. 

‘The Driver’ has a good life most of the time. He enjoys driving through the scenic countryside he calls ‘home’ and especially enjoys being a tour guide to visitors who book him for days at a time. He is proud of the children he shares with his brother and his wife. He is making a difference in his local community. What more could a man ask for?

The Bride

She left her parents and became one with her husband 15 years ago. But earlier that same year, a family member from her husband’s side had died and so it was not appropriate for the young couple to celebrate the marriage.

The years passed. They had a child and established a business. Now life is stable and there have been no deaths in either family for some time. It is time to throw a big wedding party. But what should she wear on her special day?

‘The Bride’ and her groom have already had the official wedding photos taken, though the three day ceremony will not take place until later in the autumn. She has posed for photographs in a cream and brown wool cape, typical of her her home area. She has also had photographs taken in the colourful outfit of a neighbouring area – their clothes are prettier. Which should she wear for the actual wedding, she wonders?

‘The Bride’ has a good life. I catch her gazing adoringly at her handsome husband and he is clearly besotted with her, even after all these years. Their son is intelligent, witty and doing well at school. Their business is thriving. And now they are about to celebrate their marriage, surrounded by their family and friends.

A question for the philosopher

What would the philosopher make of these stories? Surely life isn’t too different in this part of the world in this age than it was in ancient Israel. 

‘Vanity, vanity, all is vanity, a chasing after the wind,’ he may conclude. ‘Life is meaningless and the best that we can do is enjoy each day as it comes and honour God, our Judge, throughout,’ he may add. 

But the people described above – ‘The Nun’, ‘The Driver’ and ‘The Bride’ – are not in ancient Israel. Indeed, if they could hear the words of the philosopher, they may well respond with this question:

“God … who is God?” 

It’s another grey day here in this massive metropolis. This part of the world has between 250 and 300 foggy, cloudy or rainy days a year according to chinahighlights.com. Because of that, however, this city is verdant with trees, vines, moss and … er … mould. It’s wonderful to be back.

In this context, it seems that God is teaching me about light. At least, that has been the theme for the weekend.

The face of God shining on us

At the start of each month, I usually take a half day mini-retreat. Yesterday, the theme that emerged was a prayer that God would shine his face on the people and places I’m visiting just now. (See Psalm 67.) Indeed, I felt God’s special favour – his face shining on me – right there and then as I luxuriated in splendid solitude in an ancient courtyard of what is now a modern coffee shop. I had the space all to myself. 

After leaving the cafe, I prayer walked this neighbourhood where I once lived. ‘May God shine his face on this person and that one, and the communities each represents,’ I prayed. I spotted a woman with blue and pink coloured cotton thread in her hair and prayed extra enthusiastically for her, for her hair adornments tells me that she comes from a part of the mountains especially dear to my heart.

Children of Light

Today I attended a service in a local church and was both surprised and yet not to find that the sermon topic dovetailed very nicely with my theme of praying for God to shine his face on people. The topic was ‘Being children of light’. The text was Ephesians 5:8-10. My heart bounces and my face smiles unbidden when our Lord teaches me in ways that unmistakably have his handprint on them.

Pastor Zhu stood at the lectern robed in black with a red stole, white high collared shirt and a brilliant jade bracelet which flashed when her hand movements were vigorous. “Live as children of the light,” she urged us. “Live transparent lives. We have nothing to hide. Live good lives. Ordered lives. Build others up. Don’t envy others for that is as bad as idolatry.” Envy and idolatry … that’s a sobering thought.

Fruit of the light

‘Fruit of the Spirit’ is a concept I am familiar with but ‘fruit of the light’? Yet there it is, plain as day in any language, Chinese, English or Greek, in Ephesians 5:9: “… for the fruit of the light consists in all goodness, righteousness and truth…”.

I am reminded afresh that all I am called to be or do during my current travels is to live as a daughter of the light, exhibiting the fruit that comes from who I am in Jesus. 

A friend asked me the other day about my ‘objectives for this trip.’ I told her that I have three objectives: to encourage (give courage to) friends here, to make headway on some study deadlines and to prayer walk wherever I visit. All that is entirely appropriate for a tourist. But somehow my explanation seemed a little lacking for somebody who is obsessed with everything she says and does being significant.

Goodness, righteousness and truth … there aren’t any laws against such things. May I be exceptionally fruitful in terms of producing ‘fruit of the light’. That befits a daughter of the light, wherever in the world she may be. That is significant enough.

Order and light

Pastor Zhu made a link between order and light that had never before occurred to me. In Genesis 1, we read that the earth was formless, empty and DARK. It wasn’t just dim, but it was pitch black. Day in and day out … only there weren’t any days. 

Then God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light. That was the beginning of the order of night and day. Later, celestial lights were introduced to mark seasons, days and years. They bring order to our lives, both as individuals and as communities.

As children of light, our lives are ordered. That is something I shall endeavour to remember next time I am tempted to slack off during a work day, or feel that I have to work on a rest day or late into the night. Especially as my study deadlines draw closer.

Local policies

The country I am visiting has two policies related to light and which are of particular interest to me right now … policies that pastor Zhu did not touch on, possibly because they’re sensitive. The first is ‘Leave no dark corner,’ and the second urges citizens to ‘Sweep away the blackness’. They aim for transparency in society and ridding it of harmful elements.

As children of the light, we, more than anybody else, ought to live transparent lives. We have nothing to hide, though of course there is a place for wisdom in all we do and say. Yes, it’s complex. We want society to be swept clean of destructive philosophies and activities. We want to BLESS our communities.

As a tourist in a part of the world I love deeply, I can only ‘be’. In some other parts of the world, there are all sorts of activities that I could be involved along the way. But not here. Not at this point in history. This weekend, I sensed God’s encouragement that just ‘being’ is enough. As I travel, I radiate light. At least, that is my hope and prayer. 

On the road again

As I write this blog post, I am coming to the end of part one of this trip. It’s almost time to pack my bags again and leave this verdant city for the crisp autumn air of the mountains. I am excited and a little nervous, for there have been a lot of changes up there since I last visited.

And yet what do I have to fear?  I am a child of the light. I don’t know what the next week will bring, but I intend to encourage friends, work on my study and prayer walk in each place I visit. I am looking forward to the literal sunlight and to enjoying good and perfect gifts given by the ‘Father of Lights’ (James 1:17). 

The one who said “Let there be light” at the beginning of time (Genesis 1:3), the one who sent his Son into the world as “the true light that gives light to every man” (John 1:9) at the point that divides the calendar for many of us, is himself the light of the city of God to which we already belong (Revelation 21:23). On a grey weekend in a bustling city in Asia, he has encouraged and enlightened his daughter … a daughter of light … one of many children of light here. I am grateful.

May God be glorified as his people radiate light wherever they are scattered. May his light spread in intensity and breadth.