Lights in an operating theatre are bright. Nothing is hidden. And that is as it should be.
Powerful searchlights scan a disaster scene, looking for signs of life. Onlookers who have lost family members desperately hope that nothing is missed in dark corners of collapsed buildings.
不留黑暗角落 – literally meaning to ‘leave no dark corner’ – is the name of a current policy in the country I often visit. Transparency in every part of life is its purpose. The authorities want to ensure safety and harmony the community. This includes, of course, an absence of civil unrest. Cameras are everywhere – above roads, in every corner of every business, in bus and train stations, in concert halls and anywhere else people gather. The facial recognition technology used to process the data is powerful. Internet use is monitored. Spending patterns are tracked. Nothing is private.
Personal privacy is a bigger deal in most Western cultures than it is in over there. Can you imagine the fuss if a political party tried to institute transparency in every part of life in Australia? Some people even choose to opt out of a national body for consolidating health records because of privacy concerns down here.

The concept of living life transparently is Biblical. Do a search for ‘light’ in the Bible and you will see that Christians are called to walk in the light, to be light and to attract others to the light. While travelling recently, I happened to spend time in Romans 13 – it was where the Bible class I am part of in Australia (BSF) was up to as well. I sat in an Asian cafe with two cameras above me as I watched the lecture from Romans 13 on my ipad. Romans 13 contains the instruction to “… put aside the deeds of darkness and put on the armour of light” (Romans 13:12b).

Interestingly, this particular verse occurs in the same chapter as Paul’s admonition to oppressed Christians in the Roman Empire to honour and respect local authorities (Romans 13:1-7). I am quite convinced that the timing of this personal study was a divinely ordained detail … one of many … for which I am grateful. In a government-approved church service I attended while there, the preacher also stated proudly that Christians are not the ones the authorities should be worried about in terms of being a threat to civil unrest. Christians build up society, he proclaimed.
Not all Christians in Asia, however, choose to 100% obey local authorities. Many prefer, whenever possible, to remain active in building up God’s kingdom, despite clear direction at times to abstain. It was like that long ago, too. Back in the days of the early church, the Apostle Peter and others said to authorities who had forbidden them from speaking of Jesus, “We ought to obey God rather than men” (Acts 5:29). Going back even further, Hebrew midwives in the days of Moses disobeyed the king of Egypt and let baby boys live because they feared God (Exodus 1:17). Moses’ parents were commended by the writer of Hebrews as ‘heroes of the faith’ because they did not fear the king but hid their baby boy as long as they were able (Hebrews 11:23).
What about foreigners who are permitted to live for a time in ‘creative access nations’, where they are welcome as Christian visitors but not as Christian missionaries? Should they carry out activities such as evangelism and discipleship, training of church leaders and building into a local missions movement? Such activities are ‘grey’ at best and forbidden at worst. Should Christians accept funds sourced from overseas for such purposes, knowing that their host country would be most unhappy about this arrangement? Or should Christians stay entirely within the law, practising their own religion within the limits permitted, and seeking only to radiate light within their immediate spheres of influence?
The answer isn’t black and white. In fact, the one point that I am clear about, is that we must not judge one another regarding our choices on this matter. For the record, my conscience requires me to be a very well-behaved and compliant guest when in Asia. I mostly choose to just ‘let my little light shine’.
Lights in an operating theatre are blinding. Powerful searchlights scan a disaster area. A country I love has a broad-reaching policy of bringing the actions of every person into the light. But all this fades into insignificance compared to the light which burst into our world some 2000 years ago.

Jesus said, “I have come into the world as a light, so that no one who believes in me should stay in darkness” (John 12:46 NIV). As his people, we also do our best to ‘appear like lights in the world’ (Philippians 2:15). And as we wait for his return, we say, “Come soon, Lord Jesus, and set our world ablaze with your presence.”
This is where those super humble, delicate spring flowers, hellebores, come into the picture. I’ve been studying the verse, “Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought, but rather think of yourself with sober judgment, in accordance with the faith God has distributed to each of you.” (Romans 12:3 NIV) The original readers, proud first-century Roman citizens, were warned against arrogance. But as I gazed at these gorgeous hellebores in modern-day Melbourne, crouching low so I could look up at their bowed heads, it occurred to me that perhaps we can be too ‘humble’. We can refuse to display our gifts in ways which bring God glory and benefit those around us.
Having taken the plunge and committed to buy a MacBook, the salesman said, “What is your computer’s name? Call it Seniqua. That sounds sassy.” Of course, I needn’t name my computer, but I enjoy a bit of silliness, as the salesman had sensed, and decided to call it ‘Shibboleth’.



The final part of the retreat, the self-focused part, seemed almost like an addendum. My ‘question’, which I had intended to choose from the five possibilities I had drafted just two hours earlier, and which had seemed all-consuming at the time, had now shrunk into its proper perspective. As it turned out, I had one single answer to all five of my ‘possible questions’. Here they are, with the single answer:
One of my favourite modern hymns, ‘Revelation Song’ (look it up and listen), contains the line ‘Clothed in rainbows of living colour’. The author of the song, Jennie Lee, took these words from Biblical descriptions of ‘the Son of Man’ as recorded in both Ezekiel 1:28 and Revelation 4:3. In both cases, the rainbow wasn’t exactly a bow. It was complete, with no ends, encircling the one who sits on the throne in heaven.






It felt like the last six years of my life had been pointing towards this moment. The sun’s warmth radiated our backs. In front of us were two classrooms, erected here on a field strewn with summer flowers. These rooms, adapted from shipping containers, are for outsiders like us to have a base for regular involvement in this community – the community to which I had sensed God’s call back in 2012. We were meeting the man who holds the keys to the community – the monk who is effectively, if not legally, the one in charge around here.
At which point a blasted bee buzzed relentlessly about my face.



All this is too much for my little mind. I resort to singing, “Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so…”. It is true – Jesus does love us immensely. We are made in the image of God and we are very special to God (Genesis 1:26-27 and Psalm 8). God loved us so much that he became one of us and, in Jesus, went to the cross for us (Philippians 2:1-11).


