Reflections on Full-Time Christian Ministry

I stepped into the venue a bit drunk from a very heavy dinner. It was a special day, my first day in my new company. I had succeeded in entering the organisation I admired, to do a role I desired. The compensation was great, and I knew the people there who would make the job a really good workplace. 

Two weeks prior, I had my first long break in years. I spent my time doing what I loved the most. Reading, perfecting my swim technique, practicing jazz piano, cycling new roads around the island, hanging out with close friends. Though I ran myself ragged at times squeezing too many activities into a day, I was thoroughly satisfied with life. Nothing needed to change. 

Until that night, when Denesh spoke: “I’d bet that 90% of your objections to full-time paid ministry are due to fear or comfort, or a mix of both.” Fear of what would come and whether we’d cope. Love for comfort and the good life. He posited that most of us were likely to be seen by our friends and families as having respectable jobs and leading enviable lives. 

To make things even more attractive, we had nothing searing our conscience, as we had done our best, given our free time to do church work. Leading studies, serving others. We gave financially, and tried our best to help where we could. 

But rarely did we give sacrificially. Barely did we love our enemies. And unwillingly we would be to give up the respect owed when listing our illustrious careers, photographs, or any inkling of our occupations. We want our cake, and we want to eat it too. 

On days that I’m bored, I’d sometimes dig into my past; look at people who I once considered close friends. Read abandoned blogs and pull up snapshots of time gone by. One would naturally feel some sadness, especially when the trail goes cold, and we don’t know what has happened to the person. Many go offline because they aren’t doing too well. 

I was surprised when I found myself shaking off the melancholy by looking at what I had now – the new, relevant, and real. I’d swing the door open and find my smiling wife and give her a hug as an appreciation and embrace of the tangible present, which is infinitely better. 

A part of it definitely makes sense, for I can only appreciate who and what I currently have. Yet looking at current circumstances and privileges betrays a love for my current life. What I had learnt in Romans, about God’s incredible mercy, and about the privilege to be unashamed, participating in God’s grand salvation plan was not something that came easily to me. 

And whenever my mother tells me of each so-and-so from my home church who has upgraded their life or had any noteworthy achievements, I couldn’t help but be peeved and think, “is there all there is?” Not out of jealousy I think, but it seemed almost irksome that Christians around seemed to always be pursuing life upgrades. Yet here I was.

The truth is, I have never seen anyone who was successful in the world, and who was also sold out for the gospel. As written ad nauseam previously, I had encountered a lot of wonderful well-behaved and well-mannered Christians who you’d think as ‘godly’. But it always seemed that godly talk was a special sacred language they were adept at speaking at certain conventions, but not in other areas of their life. 

They were never sold out for the gospel – making difficult and counter-cultural decisions for the sake of gospel proclamation. They excelled at being a great support in church, but also a connoisseur of the good things in life. I must stress that these are not necessarily opposed. What I’m insisting is empirical and anecdotal: I have never seen. Make of that what you will. 

However, to insist that we should be counter-cultural as a rule is as pharisaical as one can get. That is no different from finding another means of distinguishing ourselves socially – to be successfully godly in the midst of terrible Christians. That is not the point. 

The point is that God expects believers to be sold out for the gospel. The key is that Jesus demands everything of us – that foxes have holes and birds have nests but the son of man has nowhere to rest. Jesus conveys an expectation of what life will be like following him, not a fact of our actual assets, that we’d must be homeless. To be sold out is not about what we have, but about what we do about what we have because of who we are. My concern should not be interpreted as cultivating an aversion to anything remotely expensive or luxurious, but about whether I still believe the truth. It’s not about the amount of money I have in my bank, but an awareness of how that affects my heart, and how much I realise that if I were being honest, it all makes the words of Jesus slide by smoothly with little effect. 

And anecdotally, again, I have never seen a Christian who had everything but who was still sold out for the Gospel. 

Taking an honest look at my life. I had nothing to offer but excuses for why I had delayed thinking seriously about full-time Christian ministry. While that is not the means to be ‘sold out’, I realised I was trained, and I had much more desire to proclaim the word than others. The only thing that held me back was my love for comfort. I realised that for all my life, I had never sacrificed anything for the gospel. Slight inconveniences are not sacrifices. I struggle to be faithful when my life is smooth sailing. 

At the core of it is about what we believe to be true. Is the future really infinitely more glorious and beautiful than what I see now? Is the approval of King Jesus really the greatest thing to seek? Are our heavenly possessions worth anything at all? 

“But many who are first will be last, and the last first.” Mark 10:31

The modern flag-bearers of justice

As a child one day, I sat sprawled on the floor with the daily newspaper before me. I flipped to a page with an article about a couple of people from different countries shaking hands. I saw the word “politics”, and I remember asking my father what “politics” meant. I don’t remember the reply, but I thought, “boy, I wouldn’t want to know more about this boring subject.” To some extent, I still don’t; not in the way politics is being discussed anyway.

Rather than answering the question “what is politics?” I think we might learn more by asking “Why do people participate in politics, or discussions about politics?” And I think, now, more than any period before, our discussions of politics have become inextricably linked to notions of justice, especially fuzzy notions of justice. Everyone has something to say about a policy, about something that’s not right about society. But isn’t this just shorthand for saying that we think there is injustice? If we are to even pay attention to the kinds of discussions we have about politics, it’s not difficult to realize that we are far-removed from the actual practical activity of politics, of the ship steering and gradual explorations and investigations. Interestingly, what we are implying – the subtext to our grand texts are strangely… impractical; they are more often than not philosophical.

In other words, because of the things we see, the experiences we’ve had, the stories we hear, the philosophies we read, we formulate our own ideals of what life should be like. This, and our usage of slovenly terms like “left” and “right” and the way politics has been described, we imagine ourselves to be connoisseurs of politics. That is, the right kind of politics will produce a just world.

As a matter of fact, I would even venture to argue that the discipline of Sociology is quite obsessed with the question of justice, even if it attempts to hide it. A veteran Sociologist once suggested: what does the term “inequality” mean, other than “injustice”? In other words, Sociologists have been trying so hard to operationalize and measure a concept that really is nothing more than a moral judgment of society.

Now there certainly isn’t a problem with our personal opinions about the justness of our current societies. The problem, I think, is that we fail to clarify the differences between justice in a state, and justice as an ideal; and questions of politics and justice. When all these are jumbled together, what we get is the kind of polarizing politics that is characteristically revolutionary and utopian in nature. And the real problem here, is that radical, revolutionary politics, in any kind of organization, is destructive and painful; even more importantly, it’s impossible.

It is strange that we have come to have such a view of politics and justice that favors instantaneous and radical change, so much so justice is synonymous with a finished state, a complete product. We don’t see an incumbent government working over a period of ten years making subtle policy changes and then proudly proclaim: ah, justice at last! In effect, every democratic turnover is like a new revolution. We don’t ever seem to get bored with the constant to-ing and fro-ing of parties with their trumpeted and wild claims that rarely, if ever, change a fundamental aspect of our lives.

This points at how we have indeed become socialized to demand perfection, developing an unquestioning and dangerous “positive prejudice in favour of the yet untried?” In response to this, Oakeshott lamented more than 50 years ago that:

…We are disposed to back our individual fancies with little calculation and no apprehension of loss. We are acquisitive to the point of greed; ready to drop the bone we have for its reflection magnified in the mirror of the future.

Michael Oakeshott, On Human Conduct, p. 174

The problem now, at least to me, is that we see politics as a means to reach a substantive moral end – and as it goes, just about anything desirable and believable enough can make up that moral end. In other words, the people we put in government are people we believe can help us achieve our vision of some kind of justice.

But what is politics? Politics is merely a series of familiar, well-defined conduct, politics engages in rule-making, in deciding what is appropriate; how we can relate to one another in ways considered civil. Think about a game, and we are all players; someone needs to tell us the rules, to ensure we don’t flout them – for our own enjoyment, the enjoyment of others, and so we can pursue our individuals goals in that game. Politics is not about instilling belief, inspiring some kind of hope of a better tomorrow. The role of politics is not for us to collectively reach a higher moral realm.

Again, as I have sometimes been accused of, I’m in no way arguing for a stay in the status quo, I’m merely attempting to clarify roles and distinguish concepts. The role of the government is to be a custodian of the rules. Corrupt governments are simply terrible custodians of rules. An association without law breaks down, and people fail to interact or play by the rules. The result is that some prosper, and other suffer.

Self-entitled justice

What I fear is that if we think of justice and politics in these terms, we will endlessly be trying to find somebody’s utopia. Someday, some person will stand up and tell us that something is “unjust”, and with just a pinch of resonance, we take our other unrelated baggages and hop onto this bandwagon, believing that we are morally justified to demand a new society – a society that is nonetheless not our own. Justice is not fairness in that I must have what he has. Justice is merely to differentiate right from wrongs as according to the rules. We must not become accustomed to the fact that we are owed something. Justice is to bring a thief to court, to punish a liar, to right a wrong done to another because they someone has broken the rules. To punish a wealthy man for passing on his riches to his son (whether deserved or not) is not justice, it’s jealousy, or maybe, a personal moral preference; it is to confuse our valuation of a rule and the validity of the rule in question.

The desirability of law and the authenticity of law are two separate issues. Justice is done when the laws are abided with; but to say that the laws are not just amounts to saying another thing. In today’s context, saying so amounts to an assumption that there is a utopia that exists; but actually it just means we are not happy with the rules. To put it differently, an existing law makes it possible for justice; but we often resort to saying: only laws I like are just laws; and hence, justice is what I like the world to be. In other words, such a law simply does not cohere with my moral view of what a law should do in relation to my satisfaction.

Obviously, I’m not so thoroughly tone-deaf on the many concerning issues of contemporary society. It is true that on some occasions, a review of existing laws is needed. But all the same, justice is to hold accountable men who have wrongfully treated women. A sexist free world is not a just world – it’s an impossible world. It’s just like saying: let’s have a world without hatred; or a world without stealing; or a world without evil. We make new rules to prohibit certain behaviour, but we cannot make rules that approximate a moral outcome of an ideal world.

In fact, one can say the same about the abolition of slavery. The root moral problem of slavery was one of dignity – some believed the dignity of others were beneath their own. We can see abolition as an ambitious attempt to value the dignity of all persons equally. At the same time, we can also look at it procedurally: the abolition merely added legal status to people. As legal persons, all are equally treated by the law.

Yet, as revolutionary as the abolition was, we have merely rewritten the rules of how we are to treat other; and not how we ought to treat one another. Society did not suddenly more moral. We merely changed the rules to make certain behaviour wrong – but slavery exists everywhere still, just in different, diffused forms. A society of equals is not a just world, it’s an impossible world.

This is not to say that we should refrain from discussing the desirability of rules; we should, but we should refrain from assuming some moral utopia by framing it as “unjust”. If all our political deliberations merely gravitate towards confounding issues of desirability with justice, then the political association becomes confused, and with every turnover, a different answer to “how ought we be treated?” is given. In doing so we imagine laws as fulfilling our wished-for satisfactions.

Rules only dictate and qualify our actions – tread safe-ly, treat others respectful-ly, behave, responsib-ly, but they do not specify what goals and desires we are to have. It provides guidelines for the pursuit of what we desire, but nothing more. We are mistaken if we think they deal with our moral lives. This is why a Christian that lives by rules can find that abiding by them perfectly may curiously lead to no spiritual change at all!

This does not contradict an image of God. To sin is to disobey God – but what secular moral reason do we have to obey Him at all? It is only because His word is law – the characteristics of God (that He is good, benevolent, loving) are almost supplementary. In other words, I do not obey because his law is morally good from my point of view; I obey God because He is the lawgiver. From God’s eyes, His laws are morally good – but the problem is that this is not always comprehensible to us. Why is the command to sacrifice Isaac morally good? It’s perplexing simply because the absolute goodness of God is not something we can understand.

What is a well-meaning Christian to do, then? The Bible does call Christians to bring justice to the fatherless, the widows, the oppressed. I have no doubt in my mind that this is a call for Christians to reach out to these people groups who express their needs but are unheard. In a way, it is to point to something greater in future – the true justice that will come, but even this justice is not remotely similar to any secular utopia, because judgment day is a day where Christ will harvest the grapes with a sharp sickle, and blood will fill the Earth.

As Christian individuals, our job is not to mend the world; I think that there are more important things than being a mere sympathetic flag-bearer of injustice. We should partake in the reduction of suffering, commiserating with those suffering the pain of loss. And these necessary things will no doubt become meaningless and procedural if we think we can attend to them through policy. When it comes to attending to needs, there’s only one word that comes to my mind: obligation – a commitment to help and love others. It is to say that I believe I have a duty to serve you, to want the best for you; for Christ said that what you do for the least of His brothers, you do for Him too.

A commitment to the needs of others extends far beyond some vague clarion call to establish a just world. It requires much more than raising a hand, putting in a ballot, even marching on a protest for a dirty, pathetic vagabond so distant from our fiery, self-righteous passions because we don’t have time for them. These are merely fleeting sympathies we express. How many demanding for equality will do the same if they were not circumstantially disadvantaged? How many abolitionists would gladly endure ill-treatment with the slaves, to partake in suffering with them? But true obligations we believe we have charges us with seeing through till the end; it is a personal mission laid down in our hearts, and we cannot expect others to do the same. An obligation is a compassion that extends beyond mere pity, it must be a willful sacrifice, to see others as more important than ourselves. Personal obligations to others can withstand all kinds of “injustices”, it is active even when we are being hard-done.

True justice in God’s eyes demands so much more; sadly, it appears that most of us are not even ready to sacrifice even a tenth of the things we so proudly demand for in return for “social justice”. Some have heard that I went to a nearby old folk’s home to do some community work. While I was there, I felt nothing but pity. But pity doesn’t get you far, behind the veneer of smiles and helpfulness and compassion were hesitant fears of how this place would be in the absence of us “cherished” visitors that lit up the home. I shuddered at the thought that this place would be dark and dingy, dirty and lifeless. But I looked on to the man who brought us here, the man who has been visiting them to preach every Tuesday for years; the man who dared to admonish them and rebuke them, while the rest of us were too kind and – eek – even seeming altruistic when doling out free gifts. Such a man is a man who felt obligated to their needs. This, in God’s eyes, is what it means to be doing justice.

Signing off,

Fatpine. 

Against our missionary tendencies

Something has been bugging me recently. I had become quite affected by how the term “missionary” had come to be understood in a pejorative manner. There has been a great deal of soul-searching in the West in the recent years. In the light of the “demise of the West” the corresponding rise of the East, many have begun to question the accepted values so commonplace in the 21st century, ideas of rights, citizenship, ideas of democracy, ideas of nationhood, of statehood, and even very basic Western epidemic frames.

One scholar used this word – “missionary” to provoke a sense of self-reflexivity: is the West being so self-righteously presumptive in declaring a need to abide by these values, universalizing them and assuming them to be self-evident and true? All of a sudden, in the face of power asymmetries, we have finally come whether these “truths” are really so ‘self-evident”, whether we are really inputing assumptions, presuming needs and just being plain obnoxious.

The very usage of this term in this manner has made be wonder if the same attitude affects us in the Christian life. The Christian life and religious must be exclusivistic, this is what is demanded: an exclusive focus on God. However, does that give us a right to be insular? Is there any difference between exclusivity and insularity? Is there a way to be missionary without being self-righteous and presumptuous? In fact, is there any way that we can avoid being presumptuous at all? Or is that just part of the package?

When we approach unbelievers, we call them “seekers”, and this term already assumes that they have not found an elusive something, they are thus looking and finding. I think as well-intentioned as this term is, we should avoid its use. For, we know in our heart of hearts that so few Christians are really “have-found-ers”, and in reality, many more Christians, even seasoned ones, are seeking, and continue to seek him.

Yet, many great mobilisers implore us to go to unreached people groups, describe them as “having a great need”. Not too far away, we may see a man broken and mired in lust and addiction, or another so absorbed in entertainment that we shake our heads: Jim/Rachel really needs Jesus. Do we then, having found Jesus, stop needing Jesus, do we then lead perfect lives? What is the need that they have? How do we see their needs? Are their needs imagined?

What should our attitude be? How should we frame our words? Are we motivated by their “need for Jesus” that we manipulate our releationships so that we can get them to hear Jesus? Do we see everything we do as instrumental for them knowing Jesus? Do we lack sincerity in loving them and knowing them – which may be what they need – for the sake of an opening to throw that “beautiful message” to them? Doesn’t sound very beautiful at all. To be clear, whether or not we preach from rivalry or sincerity, God will use us for His kingdom. However, it might be important to think clear and hard about our presumptive tendencies.

When God tells us he “knows our needs” and will provide for us, we know that all of humankind’s need is for eternal salvation, for God to look favourably on us. But again, this is not a need we fulfil, even if we can be used instrumentally to fulfil that need. Thus, we must avoid talk and language and attitudes that put us in the place of a need-fulfiller. In the same way, unless a person very clearly articulates his/her needs, we cannot assume them in the foreground – our knowledge of theology, of God’s plans for each life, must remain in the background.

Yes, everyone needs God, but this is a theological fact, and this is something that God will be responsible for. What they needs is not what we assume as the final step – Jesus, but they need different things as ordained by God. In a particular person’s life, he needs to go through a period of desperation, of dead-ends, of finally dying to will before finally turning to God. It is not our right to, from day 1, shake their shoulders and exclaim: “listen to me, you need God!!” Some people never see their needs, and perhaps never will, and to these people, we only do our job of sharing the good word.

It is not that the poor, the disabled, the marginalized have a “special need” for Jesus. It is that specific people have been called, and they await God’s time. Do the rich need Jesus? As much as the poor do. The question is whether or not God has created the need in them. And we will be faithful to that call nonetheless.

I’m going to a place with thousands of unreached people groups not because they are poor-things with a great need for God. I’m going there because God has called me there. He has shown me and burdened me with the image of the souls He has called before the time of the world. Their need for God has been placed in their hearts, and I go to them, as God has commanded. I am not the fulfiller of a need, I do not assume a need, I merely respond to a clear call.

When we realise that matters of faith and salvation are in the hands of God, then we will see how God’s timing introduces a new dimension. If I assume needs are timeless and unchanging, it will prompt us to force things onto people. Suppose I happen to see you eating measly scrambled eggs and roasted potatoes at a ten star Michelin restaurant. And I’m thinking, this is the best restaurant in town and he’s not eating Turkey sandwich, the best dish the restaurant has to offer to the world? Everybody needs to try this Turkey sandwich, we might believe, because it will put bed any questions of what the best tasting sandwich is.

Now it might be true that everybody needs to try the sandwich, which might be true. But we assume too much. Maybe that person is a cook on a break, and he makes the turkey sandwiches and he’s sick of eating them. Maybe he’s a rich dude that has had his share of turkey and is willing to just eat scrambled eggs. Or… maybe he doesn’t like Turkey! I always hated it when people discover that I don’t eat certain foods – yes, I have sensitive tastebuds and I’m picky – and then they declare, “really? you don’t eat this? Gosh you have no idea what you are missing out!!” Sure.

More than an argument about different preferences, I wish to drive home the point about timing. Forcing a burger in front of a person who just had a buffet is not wise at all. On the contrary, she would feel nauseated at the sight and even smell of the grease leaking out of the patty. But on another day, at another time, when that need has been created at that right time, such a putrid sight can be the sweetest joy.

Yes, in a real sense, humans need God. But this is a need that He will impress and He will fulfil. Let us take ourselves out of this picture, just as the biology of a person impresses for food at the right time, we shall only wait, and do only what we are called to do. The prophet Isaiah preached to Israel and to all willing to listen – those who have ears, listen! And not all of them would listen. Jonah did not go to Nineveh to preach to a people in “need” of God. God had instructed him to preach the message of judgment. At that specific time, they needed to repent. There was no saviour complex, no hero.

In what might be a complete bastardisation of the verse, 1 Thessalonians 4:11 tells us: “and to aspire to live quietly, and to mind your own affairs, and to work with your hands, as we instructed you, so that you may walk properly before outsiders and be dependent on no one.” We are to live quietly and be diligent in our work. Why? So that we may be dependent on no one. Some Christians at that time had become convinced that Christ was coming, and they became idlers and busybodies that became a burden on others.

In quite the same way, let’s stop being busybodies about the needs of others. The need for salvation exists, and we should be burdened, but we cannot thrust it down others’ throats at our own time, as if it could not be accomplished without us. We must keep our heads down and work, not only so that we won’t need from them, but so that we may have enough to give to others when they come to a point of need. And when the door opens, like a gazelle that senses some movement in the grass, we must tweak our ears with attention and reserved joy – who knows if God has called us to a time such as this?

What shall a well-meaning Christian do? Be a good neighbour, and keep needing Christ in our own lives. We pray for opportunities to answer the needs to others – needs that are specific, particular, and in His time.

Signing off,

Fatpine.

A community to belong in

I have hardly lived a more empty 24 hours. After the church camp, I’ve just been on my own, trying to find some purpose in my life, trying to find some cause to be happy. I’m very grateful that I got to be alone. If I had to meet another group of people, I would not fare so well. And thus, another bloc of fun days are gone; one final camp before the reality of going to the US inches uncomfortably close. There are many things that I probably should be doing but am not doing because it’s too troublesome and scary. Let me try to express my feelings with a few broad strokes.

I’ve been a soccer kid for as long as I could remember. In primary school, I stayed back almost everyday to play soccer. Occasionally, for brief periods, basketball would draw my team mates away and I would have no choice to play. But I sincerely hated it, one because my hands were too small, two because it would get my hands uncomfortably dirty, and lastly, because it was quite a technical sport for a beginner. Into my early years of secondary education, I continued to play it passionately, flirting in and out of school teams but eventually opting to be really casual about it. I eventually stopped playing in my pre-university days, and only managed a game every 6 months or so when some of my secondary school friends called me. But I maintained a lot of interest in the sport. Every single day, without fail, I’d wake up to check soccer news. I had no idea why, I didn’t even like to watch full games (especially internationals like the World cup), which were often too boring, unless you’re talking about the premier league.

In recent years, nothing much has changed, but it appears that most of the guys in the fellowship are quite crazy about basketball, and I often felt like I was the only one that didn’t have a clue. Two weeks ago, my old friend called me to play an 11-a-side game. He told me it was just a casual game. But when I arrived, it was super competitive, and even though I must admit I enjoyed playing, I left feeling quite alone because I was the only one of 2 Chinese dudes among all the players and supporters. And so, I decided to get into the USA-mode, I decided to pick up basketball, and it coincided with my natural loss of interest in football. I must thank some of my coworkers for being willing to meet me and teach me some of the basics. I applied some of this basics in a game we played on Sunday and I scored 4 times! I never scored in a basketball game before – I could only be content in running around, passing and defending. But now, I feel so much happier talking to the guys about the NBA, it’s really cool to talk about the finals, about the Warriors and about Lebron James. What’s even more exciting that whenever I watch a basketball replay on youtube, I actually feel really comfortable and even assured – I think of the many fan faces I get to see, the emotions of every player up close, of the guys who I can talk to, and all that fun stuff.

And so church camp came! Arriving at the site made me realize this was the very same site 10 years ago! Of course, most of the youth that surrounded me today weren’t around 10 years ago. And If I tried hard, I could recall a few things that happened, the few people that were there and aren’t around anymore. I really enjoyed the camp. I enjoyed the free time we got to play water polo, or just card games in the room, and all the food, which was really good! I have many great memories (of which, I know few will remain years later). I was particularly fond of my time with my roomie – who is a true listener. I can only describe our relationship as one akin to a husband and wife. We were so willing to listen to each other’s stories that we never closed the bathroom door, we chatted while bathing and even when pooping. And being a person who’s very conscious about getting enough sleep, I broke all my personal rules just so I could stay up and chat with him. We spoke so deeply with one another till about 1 on the first night, and about 2 the second night. It’s just fantastic to be able to pour our your heart, share your opinions, and hear people be honest and vulnerable to one another. On the final night, we got two other guys in and pulled the two beds together, chatting till 3 in the morning. Did I regret it? I absolutely did every morning. But I also reminded myself I may never have a chance to talk like that again, and that I could always sleep another day.

There’s just this kind of connection and bond between men that belies the traditional touch-averse view of man-to-man communication. We often think touchy guys are gross because it’s like being “gay”. But what I’ve found is that I really love the feeling of one of my brothers lying over my back, or having our limbs entangled together because we share a kind of intimacy that words cannot express, yet is short of romance. It denotes an intense trust in another, and a message that I can rely on you, and that you have got my back. Maybe it might be awkward for men, and perhaps we are lucky some of us are still, really, boys. But I think that beneath the surface, as a giver (but not necessarily receiver) of physical touch as a love language, most guys accuse me of being “gay” at first at the start of getting to know one another; but they almost always end up being physically intimate with me, and ironically, on an even deeper level than I gave. Now, let’s slowly move away from this topic of mine that I’m so fond of, lest you might suspect that I don’t actually like girls, because I do.

It’s great to still be around to see a new generation of people willing to serve God with their impressive talents. Thoughts of being obsolete did float up in my mind. But I guess it’s more important to be honoured to be able to see how they can, in their own ways, serve better and inspire the older people like me. Learning what I can no longer do due to my age is still something I am figuring out, and it’s definitely humbling as the unconscious illusions of eternal youth and immortality start to erode in my head.

I really enjoyed the fact that this camp was not just a be close and fuzzy with one another and just have good times, but actually had a strong missional emphasis to it. It makes much more sense that we will feel more empowered and encouraged by one another as we head out to a common fight rather than pretend that we are sojourners on a vaguely similar (but largely divergent) journey. And I daresay that we are more likely to remember events here ten years later because it meant more to us.

On the eve of another camp with a bunch of strangers, I’m not looking forward to it (except the bible expositions to come), because there is no bunch of people that I yearn to be with than my community. However, I’ve come to a point where camps are no longer special, even if it makes me feel pained after every single one, because I realize that we don’t really remember things that happened when it passes, even if it is in our best intentions to keep these feelings forever, they are just, feelings. As we go about in life, the people that matter on a day to day basis may be very arbitrary; and sometimes, it does more damage to want to have the same set of friends or coworkers to be around us when it might be far better to “settle” for someone that is not “ideal”, because God’s purpose is not for us to believe in the permanence of relationships on Earth; but he does want us to make our relationship with everyone purposeful.

In a matter of days, weeks, or months, someone may lose the same core purpose we once proudly declared, and sang together. A face we know so fondly may become unfamiliar, and even work at cross-purposes in this spiritual war. Even strong pillars may fall, and false gods will reveal themselves in a matter of time. Promises, commitments, and displays of wills mean nothing more than empty phrases and future hurts for those who continue to soldier on as numbers decrease. We cannot, and should not count on memories and fond feelings for one another, we must only strive for the imperishable and the forever faithful – his enduring word and purpose.

What then? Is there any meaning in keeping community bonds strong? Yes and no. I think we should strive to maintain, by God’s grace, a community that can consecrate itself and be a separate bastion of God’s word in a lawless world. Even if people put on “holy masks”, let them know the standard to which they are called to, let sinners have a place to confess and be broken, and grow. But no community can declare itself holy, and even if so, can only do so by a matter of formality. Is a community that is constantly striving for God’s kingdom any different from one that is led by slovenly preaching and lazy commitments, where members are fueled and bonded by feelings of familiarity and a sense of belonging than by  missional sacrifice?

Not really, the only difference I can tell is that one will be more willing to deal with discomfort – to have more new faces as a result of a missional focus, and to implore its members for more personal sacrifice for the bearing of even one eternal fruit. None of this can be achieved without an individual’s extant and strong relationship with God. And this means that every individual member of this community must not fear standing alone if need be.

Jonathan Edwards was one such person who never feared standing alone. Convinced of the rightness of his view – against those of the entire community, church, town and his family heritage – that only those that had publicly confessed their faith should be able to partake in communion, he strode forward with nothing but biblical conviction.

Edwards’ demeanour during these proceedings apparently was remarkably calm and helped earn him his affirmation even from his opponents. His supporters viewed him as simply saintly. One of those, the Reverent David Hall, recorded in his diary: “I never saw the least symptoms of displeasure in his countenance the whole week, but he appeared like a man of God, whose happiness was out of the reach of his enemies, and whose treasure was not only a future but a present good, overbalancing all imaginable ills of life, even to the astonishment of many, who could not be at rest without his dismission.”

Jonathan Edwards: A Life, by George Marsden, p. 361

His “happiness was out of the reach of his enemies,” and that really struck me. What a man who had an ego that’s far removed from this world, that nothing, not even rejection, ridicule, or even excommunication could affect his focus on God. Many would naturally see that this means he would be almost immune to the negativity of opponents against him. But this also means the positive stuff: he was not carried away by positive emotions that a sense of community might provide him, by the security of having people to count on and be supported by, to have people know that you are good and awesome, to know that you are loved and appreciated, that you have worth. As much as our outright opponents can be our enemies, those within that make us feel comfortable and convince us of our place on this temporary world can just as likely be our enemies. Did that mean that he did not suffer? It would be silly to suggest so. This is not to say he was emotionless and completely calm, he was suffering internally, but projected his grief upon the Lord, and did not take it out on others. Most of all, he cared for the state of their souls.

This is a radical idea, and it must approach something similar to Paul’s attitude in Philippians, that “to live is Christ and to die is gain”, and it is a far better thing and a far sweeter thought to depart and be with Him. Once we start to feel more comfortable, it’s time to rethink our relationship with God.

As for now, I can’t bear to leave this community. But perhaps it’s the best time to do so, and to start preparing myself to be somewhat of a nomad for a year. I cannot expect security and have love showered upon me, but I must try to make all my relationships count, no matter how temporary they may be. And finally, perhaps I may me able to return again and rejoin them in the battle for souls.

Signing off,

Fatpine. 

He plucked a rose

The eternal problem of mankind is not death, it is loneliness. It is in death itself, that loneliness becomes magnified. Prolonged periods of being alone can warp the human mind. But of course, being alone is slightly different from feeling lonely, but the worst ‘truth’ of life is to tell another that there is no purpose at all in living – that we all live and die alone.

Might I boldly suggest, that the “emptiness” that so often sparks the search for meaning is less abstruse than we think it is. Perhaps, emptiness is really loneliness.

Distanced friend

Friends share their lives with one another, so when good friends no longer walk by your side, there is a sense that one is left in the lurch. Good friends tend to know one’s most intimate thoughts, and they once shared in our happiest memories, even if they were as mundane as going for a haircut together, because that was all that we had. When for some reasons, he becomes an instant stranger, there is a stinging sense that he no longer knows you, or is intimate, even though he once was. What was once shared now becomes a thing of the past, and it feels as if a door has closed. To those who have become emotionally so reliant, it can be a very trying time indeed, it feels like what one ghost friend once remarked: “I feel like my cat died.” Replacing that warmth and familiarity with silence and awkwardness can scarcely be filled with any number of warm bodies around you.

Memories

A memory of the past is the number one thing that produces a sense of emptiness for me. A memory is not something simply “sentimental” or something we recollect pleasantly. The past almost never fails to evoke a teardrop. There is inherent sadness even in recollecting the happiest memories in a photograph; and, if anything, it is the happy memories that produce the deepest emotional response in me. Happy memories are almost always shared with people, and I’m sure that a photo of me when I was 10 enjoying a playground swing surely would not be tearjerking. Rather, I would think about the person behind the camera, what I did in those days, the people I went to school. I can’t help but think: what are these people doing now? Are they dead? Do they remember as fondly, or yearn as fondly as I do? What place does this hold? Can we ever be like that again? When these questions come flooding back unanswered, one things about the people who have come and gone, the lives that have faded and gone away. I look at the people around me and realize they must past too. In place is a gloomy cloud of loneliness.

Love

The agony of unrequited love drives a person insane: does she know how much I love her? Does she know how much I care for her, how much I want to speak to her? Does she think about me at all? The lover is forced into a solitude that he cannot find resolution through any other person. These words only mean anything at all when directed towards her, and words only carry the sweetest comfort, the most soothing calm, the cure to all ails when spoken by her. The normalcy of everyday life – the buzzing of construction, the rustling of the leaves and the softly blowing breeze all but condemn the lover to what feels like an eternity of separation: I’m not with her.

The most intense lover knows that there can be little to ameliorate this heavy melancholy; friends become speaking strangers and the familiar has lost its good taste. The most intense lover finds comfort only in his pillow and his yearning thoughts, making the most of what little was shared between the two, like desperately scraping the bottom of a coconut for remaining flesh. He ends the night with a ritual – a few tears of exasperation; alas, his dream will probably never come true, and he is faced with the deepened consciousness of his boundless solitude.

Death

There are rare occasions when people can enjoy the solidarity of dying together. But the more one goes to funerals, the more one gets a feeling that time is ticking, and the realization that “it’s not my turn, but my turn will come.” It’s like a precarious game of roulette, only that you know your turn is certain.

Death is a lonely path, because where you’re going, no one can go with you. On your deathbed, seeing your closest friends and family bid their last farewells only reinforces the fact that you’re making this journey on your own. You’d wish for one last walk, one last dance, one last meal and one last kiss. From here, your life story ends, all corners folded into a box; and finally, in the last moments, the final knots are tied to the story of your life: it is complete.

Death is also a lonely experience for the loved one. Death never means the same thing to two people; it is a historical contingency, no matter how many people have shared in knowing a person. By this, the kind of experiences one shares with another is unique and specific. Two twins never grieve over their passed mother in the same way – they grieve over specific memories they and only they have had; and even if they have had similar experiences, they grieve over the memories of their different responses to their mother’s love, chiding, conversations and all that they remember fondly. For this reason, no living soul can ever even begin to comprehend the solitude of one’s grief.

On a spiritual level, it is the sin of mankind that brings about eternal separation. Hell is not a joyful community for fornicators and liars – the only accompaniment would be gnawing worms and the sounds of gnashing teeth. It is the place of absolutes – absolute separation from the absolute good and beautiful; and it is at the absolutes where people often feel the deepest pangs of solitude.

Of his eight-year-old daughter, Grace’s passing…

In August, when they were on a hilltop holiday to escape the great heat, Grace went off her food and began to lose weight; she complained of a headache and on the eighth a high fever set in. Next day, as she lay n the fresh air on William Rudland’s camp bed, she became incoherent. Hudson Taylor was away and George Duncan carried her to Maria’s bed. Jennie Faulding wrote, “I will never forget seeing her… in his arms with her beautiful hair hanging carelessly about her shoulder and looking so pretty.”

Hudson Taylor rushed back and quickly saw how ill she was. It was meningitis.

“Cut off all her hair and apply cold compresses.”

Maria carefully follower his instructions.

“May she be spared to grow it again,” she said.

Mary Bell helped with the nursing and reported that Taylor “was so brokenhearted he cried most of the day.” To talk privately to Maria, he took her out to a secluded rock-pool in a gully where they sometimes bathed.

“There’s no hope of Gracie recovering,” he told Maria.

They commended her to God and pleaded Him to do the best for her and for them.

Back at her bedside, he said to Grace, “I think Jesus is going to take you to Himself. You are not afraid to trust yourself in Him, are you?”

“No, papa,” came the reply…

Four days later, Grace showed signs of pneumonia.

On Friday evening, August 23, the Taylor family and those closest to them gathered round Grace’s bed. Hudson began one hymn after another, though at times his voice failed. Maria sat bent over Grace, now unconscious. At twenty to nine her breathing stopped.

“I never saw anything look so lovely as dear little Gracie did the evening following her death,” Mary Bowyer wrote, “the sweetest expression of countenance one could behold on earth.”

“Our dear little Gracie!” wrote Hudson. “How I miss her sweet voice in the morning, one of the first sounds to greet us when we woke – and through the day and at eventide! As I take the walks I used to take with her tripping at my side, the thought comes anew like a throb of agony, ‘Is it possible that I shall nevermore feel the pressure of that little hand, nevermore hear the sweet prattle of those dear lips, nevermore see the sparkle of those bright eyes?’ And yet she is not lost. I would not have her back again … The Gardener came and plucked a rose.”

Roger Steer, J. Hudson Taylor – A Man in Christ, p. 208-209

Hudson Taylor would later experience the pain of losing his beloved Maria, whom had been such a faithful and trusted companion, whom had shared his great burden.

Hudson went into the next room and was chatting to the Rudlands when they heard a faint cry of “Hudson!” Taylor ran to Maria and found her standing beside her bed, very faint and unable to speak or move. He lifted her back into bed and arranged the pillows and bolster around her. He administered stimulants, but feared the worst.

“Ask God to keep my heart quiet and guide my judgment,” he said to the Rudlands.

Rapid palpitations began. Hudson Taylor didn’t think that Maria’s lungs would be able to stand the work which was required of them. He gave her food and medicine. At 12.30, he persuaded William and Mary Rudland and Henry Reid to go to bed.

“My head is so hot,” Maria complained as she regained the strength to speak.

“I will thin out your hair for you.”

Hudson found Maria’s head so “congested” that he had to cut off all her hair.

When he had finished, Maria felt the top of her head. She smiled. “That’s what you call thinning out, is it? Well, I shall have all the comfort and you all the responsibility to looks!”

She threw her thin arms around him and kissed him. Then she dozed off to sleep. Hudson left and Louise Desgraz sat with her. In another room, Taylor prayed with the Rudlands and Reid. Neither he nor they could pray unreservedly for Maria’s recovery.

At 2 am he gave Maria some more food and medicine and sat with her till three. Louise refused to leave Maria so he asked her to wake him at four. As the sun rose he could see that Maria was dying. It was July 23.

“My darling,” Hudson said, “do you know that you are dying?”

“Dying!” said Maria. “Do you think so? What makes you think so?”

“I can see it darling. Your strength is giving way.”

“Can it be so? I feel no pain, only weariness.”

“Yes, you are going home. You will soon be with Jesus.”

“I am so sorry, dear.”

Then she paused, as if correcting herself from feeling sorry.

“You are not sorry to go to be with Jesus, dear?” Hudson asked.

He never forgot the look she gave him. Looking right into his eyes, she said, “Oh no, it’s not that. You know, darling, there hasn’t been a cloud between my soul and the Saviour for ten years past. I cannot be sorry to go to Him. But I am sorry to leave you alone at this time. Yet He will be with you and meet all your need.”…

She gave Hudson a kiss each for Herbert, Howard, and Maria in England and had a message for them all. Then she could speak no more. She put one arm around Hudson’s neck and one on his head, indicating that he should look up to heaven. Her face, he noticed, had a look of “unutterable love and trust”. Her lips moved but no sound came.

Then she fell asleep. As the others watched, they saw her sleep become lighter and lighter. It wasn’t easy for them to tell when she had died. She had felt no pain.

Hudson knelt down beside the bed and prayed:

“Dear God, thank you for giving my darling Maria to me. Thank you for the twelve and a half years of happiness we have had together. Thank you for taking her to your own blessed presence. I dedicate myself anew to your service. Amen.”

J. Hudson Taylor – A Man in Christ, p. 241-242

What great comfort, to know that at the end of all things, Jesus welcomes us into his arms. What great peace, to know that man is not condemned to lone existence, but is called to fellowship with Him. We are never alone; it is just our Gardener tending to the garden, making sure we grow towards Him, to trust only in Him. And Hudson Taylor was well aware of this spiritual secret, no matter how lonely he must have felt. Just like Gandalf described to Pippin when they were besieged in the White Tower, telling him that death is only the beginning, and what lies beyond are “white shores and beyond, a far green country under a swift sunrise.”

Signing off,

Fatpine. 

 

Outlining the bigger picture

I’ve finally done enough frivolous stuff to retreat to my cozy room to read under the warm yellow lamp. And I’m so thankful for all the reflections and lessons I have learnt, so much so it almost leaves me in despair because I realize how much and for how long I’ve mired in certain sins. The December holidays are great to begin looking for ways to prepare for a new beginning. One of the projects I’m most excited to embark on is to spend more time reading the Bible next year, and to sign up for some courses on exegesis. I think it was this year or late last year when I finally gave up on using the physical bible – I had insisted on its relevance and usefulness for a long long time. But then I got seriously lazy, and because I had several study bibles in my phone, I thought it would be far more economical to use a virtual one instead. It has been nothing short of a disaster for me.

I think that the physical bible needs to remain relevant for every single Christian – because its presence alone inspires one to read. One uses a virtual bible for specificity – to read a verse. But one doesn’t use a virtual bible to read the bible itself. I think it might have contributed to a lot of corner-cutting across the world. But I think I might have just found the perfect bible for me! I just placed an online order on book depository for the Crossway Single Column Legacy bible, which I think is just perfect for taking notes! Finally I can have everything written into my bible, no need to have a separate notebook, or to have to type extra things into Evernote! I had to do abit of research before I even knew such bible existed. One can view pictures and reviews here. I can’t wait to get started!

Apart from reading the Bible and some very helpful books, I decided to pick up Hudson Taylor’s biography to reread it the second time. Again, it has been awe-inspiring from page one, and I recommend all to read it. From here on, I shall quote him often and tell of his harrowing stories, and how God has proven faithful. There are so many learning points, and his love for his bible and all his notes in one incident also makes me want to love my soon-to-arrive bible and write all over it. In all, these readings have help me to reconcile with the recent dissonances in my life that I will share in the following paragraphs.

Thesis trouble, again

I’ve run into trouble with my thesis again! There is a great possibility that I might not even be able to do it at all. I shall refrain from throwing all the blame on my hoped-for supervisor, and instead turn to accept the less-than-favourable plan of perhaps…. not doing a thesis. I was greatly saddened at first. Why is doing a thesis important? Firstly, it is the necessary condition to obtain a first class, without it, it’s impossible. Secondly, I don’t want to have another semester of crazy workload! Thirdly, of course, I want to conduct research on my pet topic – the Chinese! But I guess I have to let these expectations go. It might wound my pride and set me back a little, but I think I can turn my focus on other more important things, and also spend more time preparing for my work life and becoming a better man; all of which I’m not confident of being able to devote time to if I obsess over the thesis and grades.

Whenever I worry, I always think of that time I learnt about Matthew 6:34 reminding us not to worry about tomorrow, because our Father already knows our needs. But it’s not my thesis needs that He knows and has prepared for, it’s my need for salvation. Today, I felt especially joyful and free from worry, and somehow, I felt really glad in spite of the true prospect that my plans might fail.

Taming the tongue

I’ve finally taken time to identify and pin down what it really means to gossip, or to speak evil of others. And with this came the horrible realization that most of “innocent” discussions about other people with close ones have really been harmful gossip. I think it calls for a huge paradigm shift in the way I communicate and the topics I can actually talk about. I read Matthew 15:18 – But what comes out of the mouth proceeds from the heart, and this defiles a person. It really broke me to realize that I’ve been harbouring such evil thoughts an intentions in my heart when I spoke. I resolve to speak slowly and carefully. A recent discussion revealed a lot of secrets about people in a fellowship I love. And I realize that it’s really far better to not know anything about others that we ourselves haven’t experienced with them. This is a serious lesson indeed.

Forsaking my throne

I don’t know if it’ll come as a surprise to some – but I’ve been living the life of a prince all my life. Okay, aside from my conscripted daze, and my half a year in China, I’ve really been living like a prince. Even when I was in China, I held back all the good stuff and the good way of living until I could finally return home. What I mean is that I’ve been overly reliant on my helper. I think a more accurate statement is that I’ve been wholly reliant on my helper. My beloved helper returned to her home country for a month to attend her son’s wedding. Life has been nothing short of a mess. For one, I can’t have more meals than I hope to have, and I’ve lost quite a lot of weight. Secondly, it feels like I’ve once again been holding back the good life in anticipation for her return.

Perhaps you might not understand what that means. Holding back the good life means subsisting and satisficing – operating at the minimum level of accepted comfort for as long as I can. It means stuff like not wearing nice clothes cos I don’t wanna keep washing them or spoil them while washing them on my own, or to spend time outside when I actually want to spend time reading at home because the house is a mess.

No matter, there has been a nagging thought in my head that there is some purpose in this, and that I can’t keep “holding back” and let this lesson go unlearned. And then, I read about Hudson Taylor.

After Hudson Taylor became convinced that God had called him to serve in China, he spent a few good years preparing himself. And one of these ways was to live a very simply and frugal life – to subsist with as little as possible. I shall relate this passage to you:

On March 22, 1852, Hudson told his mother that he had made up his mind: his friends at Andrew Jukes’ assembly now believed, as he did, that God was calling him to go to China as soon as possible.

In preparation for his great adventure, Hudson now had two objectives: learning to endure hardships and to live cheaply. He found that he could survive on very much less than he had thought possible. He discovered a brand of brown biscuits which were as cheap as bread and, he told his mother, much nicer. So for breakfast he ate brown biscuits and herring, which was cheaper than butter, washed down with coffee. Lunch might be roast potatoes and tongue followed by prune-and-apple pie; or rice pudding, peas instead of potatoes, and now and then some fish. He found a little place where he could buy cheese at four to six pence a pound and he fancied it tasted better than some he had had at home for eightpence. He picked a penny red cabbage with three-halfpence-worth of vinegar, and made a large jarful.

Living cheaply but imaginatively meant that he was able to give away up to sixty percent of his earnings, and he discovered that the more he gave away the happier he became. He recorded: “Unspeakable joy all the day long, and every day, was my happy experience. God, even my God, was a living, bright reality; and all I had to do was joyful service.”

But still he felt that his “spiritual muscles” needed strengthening. When I get to China, he thought, I shall have no claim on anyone for anything; my only claim will be on God. How important, therefore, to learn before leaving England to move man, through God, by prayer alone. 

Roger Steer, J. Hudson Taylor – A Man in Christ, p. 24-25

Profound indeed, what a huge lesson for me. In the face of this, I can only resolve to cut away the frivolous and to spend my time slowly, doing things the way they should be done, and substitute previous ideas of what makes a good life for the here and now: there is no good life to hold out for. I really think, no matter what my future holds, God wants me to learn to be a better man, a husband, and a father by learning these simple lessons that are long overdue. And I won’t give up on learning them, even after my beloved helper returns.

To conclude, I think a little bit of reading has done me a whole world of God, and I thank God for allowing me to see the greater picture behind the little dissonances that I’m facing now. I’m so indebted to Hudson Taylor and his testimony, I must surely name my children Hudson and Taylor (it’s amazing both can be used for females and males too!) 🙂

Humbly yours,

Fatpine. 

Training camp and my mission kid

After such a long time, almost 6 months, I’m back to my camp where me and my homies are preparing for the upcoming fight. I apologize for the use of the fight metaphor but it really feels so. Months before a fight, fighters tend to retreat to a particular camp; they leave their families behind and focus on training, eating right all day. I’ve read of fighters who isolate themselves up from the mountain so they will not get distracted!

Distraction is simply the normal of everyday life. We think we have information, but how much of that information is really just distraction? How much do we really need to know of that cute cat purring or that someone cooked a perfect egg? Again, this is a sad malaise of our age, that we forget how to focus. To be honest, this is one of my great struggles too. And this is why I retreat to my fight camp – the bible college.

Can I just describe a little about what a day at the bible college is like? Well, it’s just me going to the canteen or the library, and sitting there all day. That’s it. Just one person sitting in the canteen, and occasionally the staff walk by on their toilet breaks, occasionally the groundskeeper does a background check on me. But most times, it’s just me and my material. There’s no wifi here, there’s literally nothing at all to distract me but the little squirrels and the birds. I often break out of my training and just stare straight at the empty basketball court ahead of me, and then I think of things. But all sorts of daydreaming only lasts seconds. Once I snap out of them, I realize mere minutes have passed. But if I watch a video, I will realize sometimes one leads to another and half an hour is gone.

My favourite part of the day is when the kids come out to play – right before dinnertime. And the thing I like best about this is that these kids seem to be from all over the world. I hear American English, Cantonese, Chinese, and all sorts of languages; then their parents come down for a stroll. Mission kids they must be. No matter how serious I am, such a view must lift the corners of my lips a bit. The view of missions and seeing kids grow up in this setting is a really romantic one. I don’t yearn intensely for it, like how some people always say they want to be a farmer overlooking vast green land; but I always imagine.

As a parent in the corporate world, children are still a priority, and one priority is probably to empower them and make them succeed. How to make them succeed when I’ve got no time? I wear my suits and ties and bring them to surrogates whom I trust will do a professional job for the money I pay. I send them to “centers” teeming with “experts” who “specialize” in children work. And here I am in this really “mild” place, a mountain to the city, a grassland to the metropolis, a peaceful lake to the modern pool party. This is not a place people would say is teeming with “life”, but yet it is. It is divorced from the world, protected from distractions, free from nagging messages that appeal to our desires. And I’m holding the hand of my child, telling my child to take care of the younger “ah zai” from Hong Kong. I smile at the boy I know as “quan”, who is in a wheelchair as his right foot is in a cast. His mother pushes him round the small complex as they sing “God is great” together. I walk over to Mr. Thomas from America, who is also curious as to why the 4 children have ceased to run around but have crouched together inspecting an army of ants. Mr. Thomas tells the children not to bother the ants, who are on their way to “ant school”. Children don’t need professionals, they need to explore, play, and be loved and enticed back to bathe at 6pm if not their favorite Lasagnas will be cold.

I think it’s okay that you don’t wear cool yoga pants, or look like a celebrity, have great o level certificates, or can play the guitar for a band. I also think it’s okay if our weekends are not spent watching the premier league or the latest episode of walking dead, or the newest thrilling season of house of cards. The part of me that’s used to all the distractions and intense entertainment might find such a life a little dull at first. But surely they wouldn’t, if they haven’t seen it! Surely, they can get used to reading the bible together and their parents telling them they are so loved. And even if they must eventually step into the world where people are judged to be morally inferior based on their skin color, or that emotions can justify anything – from feeling in love and thus, sex to quarrelling over petty interests; even when they must step into a complex world where people don’t say “please” and “thank you” and mean it, or that it’s ok not to follow the rules as long as you’re not caught, perhaps they will remember a time and place and world where things can be as God said. A place where mama and papa told them that they must learn to share and care for Ah Zai from Hong Kong or Jimmy the American because we are part of God’s family. And it is with hope, that such a child will be a mature woman, or man amongst children. What a romantic view indeed.