So I will apologize in advance for doing something that I generally dislike reading on other people's blogs, which is referencing things that are going on in life without clarification. It generally leaves the odd feeling that the thoughts are important enough to voice publicly, and yet too private to actually share. (so then, better to keep them to one's self?)
But somehow, as one may infer from the massive outpouring of the innermost thoughts of so many individuals onto the web for anyone in the world to see, we find solace in getting things out when we know people will see it, yet hesitate to fully divulge.
So, Mea Maxima Culpa, I fear I may indulge in this practice today as well.
First, however, I note that my life is changing. Life tends to alternate between periods of continuation and change, I've found. I submit that resisting those periods of change is what leads to a lack of personal growth in many people, yet perhaps some can be forgiven for wishing to stay in their current state.
I was in Taiwan for a year. The length of time tends to pale now in comparison with the significance of the time. A year is not long, and yet so many things can happen in that time.
I could have stayed there, for an indefinite period of time. I would have been very happy.
There are various motivations for this, some altruistic, some godly, and some merely selfish. One personal inclination is to bury myself in the endless, trackless wonder that is the earth, ceaselessly cataloging its wonders, people, realms, and climes. There is enough to be seen and experienced here for many, many lifetimes, let alone however long is allotted to the remainder of mine. I comfort myself in that I will have eternity to explore the new earth, and that despite the common misconceptions of eternity, it will be even much more interesting than this one.
But I did not stay, of course, I returned. There were many good and practical reasons why this should be so, and I do not regret leaving except in a temporary and irresponsible sense.
Now I am taking practical steps to return, but really, can you ever return?
I am going back to Taiwan only in the sense that Taiwan is a geographical location to which I have previously ventured and will (Lord Willing) subsequently again visit.
Save perhaps a short visit in the summer, devoted to work, it will be a few years before I can count on living there again. The people I knew will have experienced those years independently, and some things will have changed. The ever-dynamic cities will have changed, the political landscape will certainly have changed. I will have changed.
So in a sense, one can never "go back". One can only move forward.
And so I do. But with a sense of loss that I feel more keenly every year, it seems.
Life is passing by, and we cannot bring it back. The only One who has the power to do so has placed us in the sort of universe in which this does not occur.
Older people generally mark this passing more anxiously than younger people, as the years seem to fly faster and faster. And yet, they do not. Time passes at exactly the same rate for a 12 years old as it does for a 92 year old. What feels so different about it?
I would submit that most 12 year olds are too busy living life to mark its passing, while for a 92 year old, nearly all of life has already been lived. A good lesson for us all, perhaps, though reflections on life's brevity are certainly healthy if handled in the appropriate manner. I once read the statement that "your senior year of highschool is the best year of your life".
What a depressing thought! Imagine that your entire life from 17ish onwards is merely coasting towards the inevitable grave, with nothing better to look forward to than that which has already come.
But yes. Changes. 3 years ago, I lived in Huntsville. I had my own apartment (shared, but equally payed for), a promising career, a car which I payed cash for, and enough money that, had I cared to spend it, I could have bought a little sailboat, or put money down on a small house.
I also had many friends, a stable environment, no debt, and in short was beginning life after college about as well as anyone does.
Now, I live at home again. My job lies in the past, though thankfully my car still serves me, and the savings that seemed bound to increase every year have parked as they are, with that fateful title of "life" appended as a prefix. Thankfully, still no debt, but now my financial obligations for seminary are such that without help of my family in Christ, debt would be all but inevitable.
But God is great. Could I exchange the past two years for thrice the income I would have made during that time, I would not even consider doing so. You cannot buy a life, and the life I now live seems nothing less than new. And being entirely other than that of which I could have conceived on my own, this life is clearly something God has determined for me. I have learned quite well part one of the never-ending lesson that the unexpected things God throws at you can lead to results dramatically greater than your own plans.
And yet, now my life seems to be changing again, in as dramatic a way.
I leave this fall for seminary, something that up until a year or two ago I had only contemplated as something I could not imagine myself doing.
When I complete that degree, Lord Willing, I ought to be fairly well-equipped for ministry.
And what ministry will that be? Only He knows. My own plans to return to Taiwan seem godly and reasonable, but so did my plans to be a prosperous engineer who remained active in my church.
And other changes are occuring as well. The "home" country I returned to isn't looking much like home. Our nation is in an unprecedented situation of becoming something entirely other than what the founders intended. And not through defeat by some foreign power, but by the efforts of our own elected leaders, enabled by a generation of Americans who do not understand or appreciate the freedoms they inherited from those who bled for them.
There are those who question how I could go so far away and live in an entirely foreign culture.
Yet surely it's far easier to encounter a different culture far away, where it is expected, and not at your doorstep? I want to ask them instead, how can you passively watch your own country become something foreign? Foreign lands are exactly that, and can be enjoyed as such. Even when they become home, as Taiwan surely to a large extent has, a place that I love and am comfortable in, I do not expect from it the same things that I expect from the nation of my birth.
I have been able to go forth easily, knowing that America lies safely behind.
What if the country I return to as "home" becomes changed to the point of unrecognizability?
I say "what if", but this is already occurring.
And still other changes. Certain elements that have long been absent in my life have now flickered in and out of it. I find the continuum in which I have lived does not possess the inertia I thought it did. Soon instead of simply continuing in it, it will be my own energy and will which sustains it. What had simply been the way things were is now becoming something I must actively choose to maintain. Certainly, it can be so, but do I want that? Does God want that?
I am not an optimist. Things will happen in my life either because God allows me to cause them, either by action or inaction, or because God intervened and caused them in spite of my efforts.
Nothing happens in life for any other reason. Hoping very much that it will be better than it is likely to be may be a helpful way for some people to maintain good spirits, but it certainly seems like an invitation to disappointment to me. If I have reason to hope, it is because God has blessed me beyond anything I could imagine, not because "life is good". Life is not good, life is Christ, and to die is gain. Yet my prayer is that God keeps me alive for as long as He has a purpose for me.
My life is forfeit to Him who ransomed it, and He teaches me increasingly how much this is true.
"So that it is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me."
Why can't Christians see that? Why are they hell-bent (wording intentional) on pursuing their own lives in their own way? Why do they see it as their time, or at best a power-sharing agreement, not God's time, which He created and loans to us? Yet I am the same. Every day, every day, I begrudge God what is rightfully His.
And somehow on those times when I come before Him, so much less often than He has infinite right to claim, He meets me there and blesses me. How can it be so?
The only explanation is love. As unfathomable as it may seen, God loves what is surely unlovable but for that fact. We say that we love God because God loves us, but it must also be true that we can only be loved by anyone because God loves us.
That is my only hope, as my life changes and I begin to dance to stay upright as the earth shifts beneath me, and my deepest hopes for my life become unsure, even irrelevant.
Somehow God actually loves me, I who surely know how unloveable a person I am.
There is literally no way I can conceive of repaying that love. Even a life of total, perfect service is only the honor due Him. It does not even begin to repay a debt that we are no more capable of paying than of creating ourselves.
All is Gift.
-Joseph
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Friday, February 27, 2009
A Moment in Time
Well, I had all but abandoned this, but evidently people do still stumble across it, so I guess it doesn't hurt to update it now and then.
It has been a long time since I wrote a personal article, my writings have mostly been increasingly on my political blog. But indeed, much has happened since I last wrote in here. It's been almost exactly a year now, at that time I was in Taiwan, roughly 4 months in, I guess.
The following 8 months were amazing, but that story has been told, in both words and pictures, elsewhere. Suffice to say, it was a life-changing experience, and Taiwan become more like home to me than I could have imagined. My heart is still there, and there are weeks when I miss it every day. My friends, the ministry, English classes, my own Chinese classes, summer camp, (food!), the city, the mountains, the way the sky looked, even just the working out of day to day life there, all of those things resonate so strongly in my mind that occasionally it's as if I expect to open my eyes and see not north Alabama but a Taipei city street.
And yet I am not there, but here. And if I am ever to live there again, it will be through moving forward, not looking back. Seminary lies across my path, as well it should, and I am excited about that prospect. And it will be so much more meaningful learning lessons when I can look ahead and see how they will help me on the field. The thought of taking the Bible directly from Greek and Hebrew to Chinese without having to go through English is an exhilarating one.
I was told by someone on the field, if I'm not careful, travel could become a life-long occupation.
Evidently the fact that I had a money drawer in my Taipei apartment containing small reserves of currency from the surrounding countries was a sign that I was already a hopeless case.
Another sign might be that when I walk into an international airport, I nearly get tingly with the possibilities stretching out before me. Sure, I could continue to my intended destination. But where else could I go? Almost anywhere. Europe beckons tantalizingly, with its staggering cultural diversity, beautiful locales, and the history of western civilization, just for starters. East Asia is a more familiar target, yet still a largely unknown one. The islands of Japan wonder why I have not yet managed to find them, and Korea lies beyond. All of Africa is still for me, as for ancient explorers, the dark continent, and other than a brief foray in Mexico City, Latin America and everything South of the Border waits impatiently.
Steppe, Desert, Rainforest, Tundra... the staggering scope, complexity and beauty still remaining in a long-fallen world indeed leaves man "without excuse". I sometimes think that these Atheists who so boldly, arrogantly and foolishly declare that they have theorized God into nonexistence can never have really stopped and simply watched a sunrise or sunset; I can never witness one without being reminded of the majesty that established a natural world in which this kind of beauty is integral. The delicately balanced function that places our earth among the stars in just such a way to sustain life has also matchless form, form that reflects the Glory of Him who established it.
All this world to see, and yet... if I was presented with a ticket to anywhere, and enough money to stay there a while, I am not sure that I wouldn't go to a place that has stayed with me since the one time I have been there. One day, to celebrate the birthday of a wonderfully interesting lady from South Africa who had a unique ministry in Taipei city, we took a train down the mountainous Taiwanese east coast. There the forested mountains fall away in sea cliffs to the Pacific, leaving in some places only perilous ledges for transportation. The train winds along the coast away from the Taipei metropolis, out through little seaside villages. Finally we arrived at a particularly small one, disembarked into the tiny station, and struck out for the beach.
This is not a Florida beach, by any means. Few beaches in Taiwan, except at the southernmost tip, can boast perfect white sand, or smooth spotless banks. They tend to be brown and cluttered, sometimes polluted.
But this beach is a little different. Some clutter is there until you get closer to the water's edge, including an oddly high number of dead pufferfish laying about, but the sand is soft and black.
The black sand doesn't obscure the water like light sand does, and you can see straight to the bottom. Unlike the sheer mountainsides directly across the traintracks from us, the sand's slope is gradual, and we waded a good ways out. The day had been bright and hot earlier, followed by a rainstorm, but now the sky was overcast, and the tops of the green mountains were shrouded in mist. These days you can usually find at least a few students at any prominent beach, often hundreds of them. Other beaches are more locally known, and have a smaller, more dedicated attendance. Today was no exception, though the cloudy weather had reduced turn-out. There were even a few optimistic college students in wetsuits, trying to ride the small waves on their surf boards. Foreigners seemed to be in low attendance, however. I can recall that there might have been one other foreigner there, otherwise it was just us.
We then floated in the calm sea of that evening, listening to the waves and watching the mist move around the mountain tops that towered above us. If you offered me the chance, I can't promise that's not the first place I'd go.
Later we retired underneath a nearby large concrete military shore emplacement, long since abandoned and covered in Chinese graffiti, and used wooden debris that had collected inside to build a fire. (One guy, who had grown up in a village in Indonesia where his parents were missionaries, used a section of bamboo as a bellows to get the fire going) We boiled some water to make tea, and ate some of the snacks we had brought. A little bread truck playing music pulled up on the small lane behind the bunker, and we bought some sandwiches from it. The evening passed slowly and enjoyably. Finally, as I had to be at church in the morning, I and another guy in a similar situation took our leave, as rain began to pour. We hiked back to the train station, getting soaked in the process, and using our limited Chinese to explain to a couple who had taken refuge from the deluge in a small shrine that we did not, unfortunately, know of any place nearby where umbrellas could be purchased.
Upon reaching the station, we waited for the train a good bit. I was exhausted after a very long day, all that I am telling here was just the latter portion of it. This was the second beach we had been to, the previous one was more well-known, with golden sand. We made a trip up to the 7-11 to buy various things (cold noodles, dried fruit, cookies) which we combined into a decent lunch.
We also explored the nearby town, finding some interesting shops. But perhaps all that can be told another time. Coming back to this portion of the story, eventually the train did arrive, and we boarded. My sandals had caused some serious damage to my feet at this point, but I was too satisfied to care much. We did not, however, go back the entire way by train as we had come.
Instead, we went down the line a couple more stops, getting off at a somewhat more prominent town that had a bus line that ran back to Taipei. Though this was the first time for both of us, we successfully located the bus station, and before long were resting on the bus, on our way back to Taipei.
That was a good day, one that I will remember for a long time.
Will I ever get back there? He knows, and I trust Him.
My plans would never have led me to that place, or the many others I came to know and love.
It is only as a result of His plan for me that I forsook my career and ventured out, and now I cannot conceive of my life without the experiences that followed.
How then can I fail to believe that His ways are superior to mine?
I cannot. And so I press forward.
-Joseph
It has been a long time since I wrote a personal article, my writings have mostly been increasingly on my political blog. But indeed, much has happened since I last wrote in here. It's been almost exactly a year now, at that time I was in Taiwan, roughly 4 months in, I guess.
The following 8 months were amazing, but that story has been told, in both words and pictures, elsewhere. Suffice to say, it was a life-changing experience, and Taiwan become more like home to me than I could have imagined. My heart is still there, and there are weeks when I miss it every day. My friends, the ministry, English classes, my own Chinese classes, summer camp, (food!), the city, the mountains, the way the sky looked, even just the working out of day to day life there, all of those things resonate so strongly in my mind that occasionally it's as if I expect to open my eyes and see not north Alabama but a Taipei city street.
And yet I am not there, but here. And if I am ever to live there again, it will be through moving forward, not looking back. Seminary lies across my path, as well it should, and I am excited about that prospect. And it will be so much more meaningful learning lessons when I can look ahead and see how they will help me on the field. The thought of taking the Bible directly from Greek and Hebrew to Chinese without having to go through English is an exhilarating one.
I was told by someone on the field, if I'm not careful, travel could become a life-long occupation.
Evidently the fact that I had a money drawer in my Taipei apartment containing small reserves of currency from the surrounding countries was a sign that I was already a hopeless case.
Another sign might be that when I walk into an international airport, I nearly get tingly with the possibilities stretching out before me. Sure, I could continue to my intended destination. But where else could I go? Almost anywhere. Europe beckons tantalizingly, with its staggering cultural diversity, beautiful locales, and the history of western civilization, just for starters. East Asia is a more familiar target, yet still a largely unknown one. The islands of Japan wonder why I have not yet managed to find them, and Korea lies beyond. All of Africa is still for me, as for ancient explorers, the dark continent, and other than a brief foray in Mexico City, Latin America and everything South of the Border waits impatiently.
Steppe, Desert, Rainforest, Tundra... the staggering scope, complexity and beauty still remaining in a long-fallen world indeed leaves man "without excuse". I sometimes think that these Atheists who so boldly, arrogantly and foolishly declare that they have theorized God into nonexistence can never have really stopped and simply watched a sunrise or sunset; I can never witness one without being reminded of the majesty that established a natural world in which this kind of beauty is integral. The delicately balanced function that places our earth among the stars in just such a way to sustain life has also matchless form, form that reflects the Glory of Him who established it.
All this world to see, and yet... if I was presented with a ticket to anywhere, and enough money to stay there a while, I am not sure that I wouldn't go to a place that has stayed with me since the one time I have been there. One day, to celebrate the birthday of a wonderfully interesting lady from South Africa who had a unique ministry in Taipei city, we took a train down the mountainous Taiwanese east coast. There the forested mountains fall away in sea cliffs to the Pacific, leaving in some places only perilous ledges for transportation. The train winds along the coast away from the Taipei metropolis, out through little seaside villages. Finally we arrived at a particularly small one, disembarked into the tiny station, and struck out for the beach.
This is not a Florida beach, by any means. Few beaches in Taiwan, except at the southernmost tip, can boast perfect white sand, or smooth spotless banks. They tend to be brown and cluttered, sometimes polluted.
But this beach is a little different. Some clutter is there until you get closer to the water's edge, including an oddly high number of dead pufferfish laying about, but the sand is soft and black.
The black sand doesn't obscure the water like light sand does, and you can see straight to the bottom. Unlike the sheer mountainsides directly across the traintracks from us, the sand's slope is gradual, and we waded a good ways out. The day had been bright and hot earlier, followed by a rainstorm, but now the sky was overcast, and the tops of the green mountains were shrouded in mist. These days you can usually find at least a few students at any prominent beach, often hundreds of them. Other beaches are more locally known, and have a smaller, more dedicated attendance. Today was no exception, though the cloudy weather had reduced turn-out. There were even a few optimistic college students in wetsuits, trying to ride the small waves on their surf boards. Foreigners seemed to be in low attendance, however. I can recall that there might have been one other foreigner there, otherwise it was just us.
We then floated in the calm sea of that evening, listening to the waves and watching the mist move around the mountain tops that towered above us. If you offered me the chance, I can't promise that's not the first place I'd go.
Later we retired underneath a nearby large concrete military shore emplacement, long since abandoned and covered in Chinese graffiti, and used wooden debris that had collected inside to build a fire. (One guy, who had grown up in a village in Indonesia where his parents were missionaries, used a section of bamboo as a bellows to get the fire going) We boiled some water to make tea, and ate some of the snacks we had brought. A little bread truck playing music pulled up on the small lane behind the bunker, and we bought some sandwiches from it. The evening passed slowly and enjoyably. Finally, as I had to be at church in the morning, I and another guy in a similar situation took our leave, as rain began to pour. We hiked back to the train station, getting soaked in the process, and using our limited Chinese to explain to a couple who had taken refuge from the deluge in a small shrine that we did not, unfortunately, know of any place nearby where umbrellas could be purchased.
Upon reaching the station, we waited for the train a good bit. I was exhausted after a very long day, all that I am telling here was just the latter portion of it. This was the second beach we had been to, the previous one was more well-known, with golden sand. We made a trip up to the 7-11 to buy various things (cold noodles, dried fruit, cookies) which we combined into a decent lunch.
We also explored the nearby town, finding some interesting shops. But perhaps all that can be told another time. Coming back to this portion of the story, eventually the train did arrive, and we boarded. My sandals had caused some serious damage to my feet at this point, but I was too satisfied to care much. We did not, however, go back the entire way by train as we had come.
Instead, we went down the line a couple more stops, getting off at a somewhat more prominent town that had a bus line that ran back to Taipei. Though this was the first time for both of us, we successfully located the bus station, and before long were resting on the bus, on our way back to Taipei.
That was a good day, one that I will remember for a long time.
Will I ever get back there? He knows, and I trust Him.
My plans would never have led me to that place, or the many others I came to know and love.
It is only as a result of His plan for me that I forsook my career and ventured out, and now I cannot conceive of my life without the experiences that followed.
How then can I fail to believe that His ways are superior to mine?
I cannot. And so I press forward.
-Joseph
Friday, February 22, 2008
As it now stands
From time to time, I recall that I have a blog.
At such times I am occasionally compelled to post in it, but normally let the fit pass.
This is not one of those times, as it's too early to sleep but too late to do anything terribly productive. (not really, but I'll get around to that after the blog, hopefully)
For the reader who may stumble upon this (probably in its incarnation on facebook as a note),
I should probably mention what things have been like lately.
In general, things have been going well. My Chinese continues to advance slowly but surely, though I am not taking classes next month due to time and money constraints. I will undoubtedly have some mornings free during which I could continue to take them, but I've already taken a month or two more than originally planned, and the issue is more that as I become increasingly involved in ministry here, I never know when I will need to have the time free for other purposes.
(I will miss my teachers, but I'm also certainly not ruling out resuming classes later if I determine that I will have enough time.)
The work here goes slowly. Frustratingly slowly, at times. In a prosperous and technologically advanced nation, its easy to forget that despite a long missions presence here, Taiwan is in some way still pretty much the front lines. There's a long history of evangelical work here, but little penetration.
Opportunities for direct evangelism are there, but are harder because of the language barrier, a pretty consistent post-modernism (Oh, you came all the way here for your faith? That's great, it's good to see that kind of dedication in a young person... etc), and the fact that most people here just don't see a need for it.
Either they're not religiously inclined (mostly younger people), or they are already following Daoism or Buddhism or the sort of amalgamated version you often get here. Taiwanese are polytheistic pragmatists; if there is a god out there that they know about, they'll add them in for luck. I've seen icons of Jesus in a temple here, and I'm told there is a shrine to the Unknown God in another city not too far from here.
So everywhere you see things like mirrors over doorways, family idol shelves, food set out with incense in front of businesses on auspicious lunar days, etc.
Compared to that sort of vague, all-inclusive mysticism, the gospel stands out in stark contrast.
Many people here are potentially willing to add Jesus to their personal pantheon, but forsaking all other gods, and to a large extent the culture that goes with them, in addition to insulting your ancestors (and by extension, your living ones too), is a hard teaching. Who can accept it?
(ref. John 6)
The answer, it seems, is that few in Taiwan can right now. Part of the problem is that the Christian community as such is still developing. In some places, churches are relatively isolated, a small band of believers meeting on Sundays. The impact on the community is not always noticeable, and outreach can be difficult for various reasons. Door to door evangelism, for example, is not suited to the culture, where a personal relationship context is generally necessary before someone will consider really letting what you say sink in (they will usually listen to be polite, or even agree with you, but 'yes' is often considered a polite and non-offensive way of saying 'no' here), but would be difficult anyway because people do not live in convenient rows of houses with accessible front doors here, but in (usually gated) apartments. There has never been a church culture here, so there is no sense that going to church on Sunday is a moral activity. "Getting my religion in" here takes the form of going down to the local temple and lighting some joss (incense) sticks, or burning fake paper money in a little pot in front of your business.
To sum it up, except in rare circumstances, no normal activity would lead to someone going to church here, if there is even a church near them.
And people don't always exactly rush to decisions. I have heard that the average Taiwanese Christian heard the gospel 11 times before they accepted it. I also know at least two Christians here who, once they started going to church, did so for 8 years before they accepted Christ.
I could go on, but I think you get the idea. In this prosperous, modernized, and traditionally polytheistic culture, the gospel has made slow progress. Please pray that God will awaken the spirit of the Taiwanese people and cause them to feel a need for Him in their lives.
There are great opportunities here, especially among students, but not enough people who can and are willing to pursue them. The number of missionaries here is also decreasing due to attrition (retirement, transfers, etc) Please pray that God will raise up people with a strong desire to make His name more greatly glorified in this place.
-Joseph
At such times I am occasionally compelled to post in it, but normally let the fit pass.
This is not one of those times, as it's too early to sleep but too late to do anything terribly productive. (not really, but I'll get around to that after the blog, hopefully)
For the reader who may stumble upon this (probably in its incarnation on facebook as a note),
I should probably mention what things have been like lately.
In general, things have been going well. My Chinese continues to advance slowly but surely, though I am not taking classes next month due to time and money constraints. I will undoubtedly have some mornings free during which I could continue to take them, but I've already taken a month or two more than originally planned, and the issue is more that as I become increasingly involved in ministry here, I never know when I will need to have the time free for other purposes.
(I will miss my teachers, but I'm also certainly not ruling out resuming classes later if I determine that I will have enough time.)
The work here goes slowly. Frustratingly slowly, at times. In a prosperous and technologically advanced nation, its easy to forget that despite a long missions presence here, Taiwan is in some way still pretty much the front lines. There's a long history of evangelical work here, but little penetration.
Opportunities for direct evangelism are there, but are harder because of the language barrier, a pretty consistent post-modernism (Oh, you came all the way here for your faith? That's great, it's good to see that kind of dedication in a young person... etc), and the fact that most people here just don't see a need for it.
Either they're not religiously inclined (mostly younger people), or they are already following Daoism or Buddhism or the sort of amalgamated version you often get here. Taiwanese are polytheistic pragmatists; if there is a god out there that they know about, they'll add them in for luck. I've seen icons of Jesus in a temple here, and I'm told there is a shrine to the Unknown God in another city not too far from here.
So everywhere you see things like mirrors over doorways, family idol shelves, food set out with incense in front of businesses on auspicious lunar days, etc.
Compared to that sort of vague, all-inclusive mysticism, the gospel stands out in stark contrast.
Many people here are potentially willing to add Jesus to their personal pantheon, but forsaking all other gods, and to a large extent the culture that goes with them, in addition to insulting your ancestors (and by extension, your living ones too), is a hard teaching. Who can accept it?
(ref. John 6)
The answer, it seems, is that few in Taiwan can right now. Part of the problem is that the Christian community as such is still developing. In some places, churches are relatively isolated, a small band of believers meeting on Sundays. The impact on the community is not always noticeable, and outreach can be difficult for various reasons. Door to door evangelism, for example, is not suited to the culture, where a personal relationship context is generally necessary before someone will consider really letting what you say sink in (they will usually listen to be polite, or even agree with you, but 'yes' is often considered a polite and non-offensive way of saying 'no' here), but would be difficult anyway because people do not live in convenient rows of houses with accessible front doors here, but in (usually gated) apartments. There has never been a church culture here, so there is no sense that going to church on Sunday is a moral activity. "Getting my religion in" here takes the form of going down to the local temple and lighting some joss (incense) sticks, or burning fake paper money in a little pot in front of your business.
To sum it up, except in rare circumstances, no normal activity would lead to someone going to church here, if there is even a church near them.
And people don't always exactly rush to decisions. I have heard that the average Taiwanese Christian heard the gospel 11 times before they accepted it. I also know at least two Christians here who, once they started going to church, did so for 8 years before they accepted Christ.
I could go on, but I think you get the idea. In this prosperous, modernized, and traditionally polytheistic culture, the gospel has made slow progress. Please pray that God will awaken the spirit of the Taiwanese people and cause them to feel a need for Him in their lives.
There are great opportunities here, especially among students, but not enough people who can and are willing to pursue them. The number of missionaries here is also decreasing due to attrition (retirement, transfers, etc) Please pray that God will raise up people with a strong desire to make His name more greatly glorified in this place.
-Joseph
Monday, December 17, 2007
It's about time....
So, I am in Taiwan.
I have updated this so infrequently that I suspect no one will read it in anything like a timely fashion, so instead of giving an update I will simply ramble.
Being a missionary here is different than one might expect. The language barrier is something, certainly, and there are times when I eat strange food that I'm not crazy about, but for the most part the hardships are familiar, trivial ones, magnified by the lack of familiar, trivial comforts.
I love Chinese food, I am picking up a little Chinese (a very little, but any is more than I knew before!), my apartment is quite comfortable, and I am very much enjoying being overseas. So much for the conventional hardships of foreign missions...
No, the difficulties are things like missing my church on Sunday and feeling as if my spiritual life is suffering for the lack of it (so much for missions being a permanent spiritual high, eh?); being in a culture where hugs are definitely not given at farewells (it sounds silly but you really do start to miss it); wondering if the work that I'm doing will have any eternal significance because much of it does not seem particularly evangelical (I'm aware that this is an easy fallacy to fall into, but knowing that does not always stop me), etc.
I have delved deep into my relationship with God and found that there is not nearly so much there as there should be at this point in my life. I find myself assailed with doubts when I should be faithful, hesitant when I should be bold, incompetent when I should be capable. I am not sufficient for this task, and this humbles and shames me. I pray to God for strength, and instead receive hard-won lessons.
In short, missions is not something you bring to other people. It's something God does to you.
He is certainly changing me. But the more I change, the farther I see I must change. In the curve which must approach sanctification, I feel I am asymptotically veering farther away.
Eventually, it will come around. It must, because He has said it will be so. But in the mean time I feel very far from where I should be.
I ask myself, how can I share God with others when I have pursued Him so little myself?
How will He overflow from my life to that of others when I feel like a virtual black hole of His forgiveness and mercy, constantly needing greater quantities of it?
I believe He will, and maybe is even now.
One thing I may be sure of, all glory is His.
In my endless quest to justify everything about myself, I find that I utterly cannot.
I cannot justify myself, my actions, my thoughts, my relations with others, nothing.
I can only fall on His grace and pray that it will be sufficient for even one such as me.
-Joseph
I have updated this so infrequently that I suspect no one will read it in anything like a timely fashion, so instead of giving an update I will simply ramble.
Being a missionary here is different than one might expect. The language barrier is something, certainly, and there are times when I eat strange food that I'm not crazy about, but for the most part the hardships are familiar, trivial ones, magnified by the lack of familiar, trivial comforts.
I love Chinese food, I am picking up a little Chinese (a very little, but any is more than I knew before!), my apartment is quite comfortable, and I am very much enjoying being overseas. So much for the conventional hardships of foreign missions...
No, the difficulties are things like missing my church on Sunday and feeling as if my spiritual life is suffering for the lack of it (so much for missions being a permanent spiritual high, eh?); being in a culture where hugs are definitely not given at farewells (it sounds silly but you really do start to miss it); wondering if the work that I'm doing will have any eternal significance because much of it does not seem particularly evangelical (I'm aware that this is an easy fallacy to fall into, but knowing that does not always stop me), etc.
I have delved deep into my relationship with God and found that there is not nearly so much there as there should be at this point in my life. I find myself assailed with doubts when I should be faithful, hesitant when I should be bold, incompetent when I should be capable. I am not sufficient for this task, and this humbles and shames me. I pray to God for strength, and instead receive hard-won lessons.
In short, missions is not something you bring to other people. It's something God does to you.
He is certainly changing me. But the more I change, the farther I see I must change. In the curve which must approach sanctification, I feel I am asymptotically veering farther away.
Eventually, it will come around. It must, because He has said it will be so. But in the mean time I feel very far from where I should be.
I ask myself, how can I share God with others when I have pursued Him so little myself?
How will He overflow from my life to that of others when I feel like a virtual black hole of His forgiveness and mercy, constantly needing greater quantities of it?
I believe He will, and maybe is even now.
One thing I may be sure of, all glory is His.
In my endless quest to justify everything about myself, I find that I utterly cannot.
I cannot justify myself, my actions, my thoughts, my relations with others, nothing.
I can only fall on His grace and pray that it will be sufficient for even one such as me.
-Joseph
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Boethius and the Beach
So I have spent the last week, and will be spending the next week, with my family at the beach.
It's been fun, stress-free for the most part, and a good chance to catch up with my numerous siblings, who have done a little growing up since I moved out. Talking to my oldest sister about relationship issues, for example, is a new experience, but not an unpleasant one. It's interesting to see what kind of personalities they are developing as they mature. (if you can call moving into the teenage years maturing; for many people it seems to be the opposite!)
One thing I have always liked to do at the beach, which I do not see many other people doing, is going out and fighting with the surf. By this I mean getting out into the water where the waves are breaking the roughest, and struggling to hold my ground against every one.
It's endlessly fun (for me, at least), and a good allegory of life, I suppose. You discover different kinds of waves: tall, perfect crests which can be dived through; low, foamy waves which tickle as they pass; deceptive surging waves which look like mere swells, but then suck the sand out from under your feet and push you over. With this knowlege comes the strategies for dealing with them: Some waves you can let crash against you without being driven back, some you can dive through, some you had best swim underneath to avoid being swept off your feet and deposited nearer the shore. The allegory occured to me this time, but really I just enjoy it. It's probably not difficult to analyze this and make judgements on my personality, but I'll leave that to the interested reader...
Apart from fighting waves, getting a tan via repeated minor sunburns, burning my eyes out due to the glare and wave-stolen sunglasses (only cheap plastic ones, not to worry), and enjoying fresh seafood on a daily basis, I have been doing a bit of thinking, and reading.
The other day, I had a chance to sit out on the deck overlooking the ocean, and read a large chunk of one of my favorite books, the Consolation of Philosophy by Boethius. I won't go into the details of either the book or the philosopher here, (you can probably wikipedia that if you're interested) but it was definitely an enjoyable experience. My mind gets cluttered with all the excessive stimuli our hyperactive media culture subjects it to on a second-by-second basis, if I let it get to me, and occasionally it needs a bit of clearing and straightening out, to remind me of why perspective is so important.
The time away from my (former, as I prepare to depart for Taiwan in less than a month) job and routine has caused a shift in my perspective. I had expected it, but was nevertheless surprised when it came. It's so easy to get stuck in the routine of our lives that we forget the real world is all around us every day. Having broken out of this routine, I find myself noticing that reality is, well, real.
As Christians, we believe in some things that we can't see, and as people living in these times, we see many things that we must not believe. For me, this does not result in so much of a blurring of the line of what is real and what is not, as a lapse of perspective with regard to the relevancy of that question. Because I know that what I see around me is no more real than some things I cannot see, and because I believe that many things I cannot see are vastly more important than what I can see, I do not always attach enough relevancy to those things I can see. I forget that God has placed me in these very real surroundings, surroundings that existed in one form or another since He created them through Christ, for a reason. What surrounds me is not all of reality, but it is nevertheless real, and should not be ignored or pushed aside. Perhaps I am a bit too platonic about these things, attaching more significance to the unseen archetypes than their real counterparts that I interact with on a daily basis, sometimes without noticing them much.
-One exception to this, by the way, is nature. I have always been acutely aware of the beauty of the natural world, and am thankful that God has revealed Himself to me in this way. I cannot see a sunset, or a mountain range, the blue morning sky, or the waves breaking on the shore, without sending up a silent thanks to God for placing us amid such beauty. He pronounced His creation good, and though it is now fallen and corrupted, it yet retains the shadows of its former perfection.
But now it is late, and I think I will go and play Final Fantasy with my brother. It has occurred to me that perhaps a large majority of our entertainment (games, movies, television, etc) consists of constructing a hypothetical scenario with a system of relationships and rules, and dealing with the consequences of these. I wonder what that says about us as a culture? Does it make the Enemy's job that much easier when we are constantly immersing ourselves in alternate scenarios instead of focusing on reality? Is it so hard to deal with this life that we must create fictional realities to escape from it? Or are we just too lazy or fearful to fix the problems in our own lives, so we escape to other places to evade them?
Something to think about, anyway... time to end this.
-Joseph
It's been fun, stress-free for the most part, and a good chance to catch up with my numerous siblings, who have done a little growing up since I moved out. Talking to my oldest sister about relationship issues, for example, is a new experience, but not an unpleasant one. It's interesting to see what kind of personalities they are developing as they mature. (if you can call moving into the teenage years maturing; for many people it seems to be the opposite!)
One thing I have always liked to do at the beach, which I do not see many other people doing, is going out and fighting with the surf. By this I mean getting out into the water where the waves are breaking the roughest, and struggling to hold my ground against every one.
It's endlessly fun (for me, at least), and a good allegory of life, I suppose. You discover different kinds of waves: tall, perfect crests which can be dived through; low, foamy waves which tickle as they pass; deceptive surging waves which look like mere swells, but then suck the sand out from under your feet and push you over. With this knowlege comes the strategies for dealing with them: Some waves you can let crash against you without being driven back, some you can dive through, some you had best swim underneath to avoid being swept off your feet and deposited nearer the shore. The allegory occured to me this time, but really I just enjoy it. It's probably not difficult to analyze this and make judgements on my personality, but I'll leave that to the interested reader...
Apart from fighting waves, getting a tan via repeated minor sunburns, burning my eyes out due to the glare and wave-stolen sunglasses (only cheap plastic ones, not to worry), and enjoying fresh seafood on a daily basis, I have been doing a bit of thinking, and reading.
The other day, I had a chance to sit out on the deck overlooking the ocean, and read a large chunk of one of my favorite books, the Consolation of Philosophy by Boethius. I won't go into the details of either the book or the philosopher here, (you can probably wikipedia that if you're interested) but it was definitely an enjoyable experience. My mind gets cluttered with all the excessive stimuli our hyperactive media culture subjects it to on a second-by-second basis, if I let it get to me, and occasionally it needs a bit of clearing and straightening out, to remind me of why perspective is so important.
The time away from my (former, as I prepare to depart for Taiwan in less than a month) job and routine has caused a shift in my perspective. I had expected it, but was nevertheless surprised when it came. It's so easy to get stuck in the routine of our lives that we forget the real world is all around us every day. Having broken out of this routine, I find myself noticing that reality is, well, real.
As Christians, we believe in some things that we can't see, and as people living in these times, we see many things that we must not believe. For me, this does not result in so much of a blurring of the line of what is real and what is not, as a lapse of perspective with regard to the relevancy of that question. Because I know that what I see around me is no more real than some things I cannot see, and because I believe that many things I cannot see are vastly more important than what I can see, I do not always attach enough relevancy to those things I can see. I forget that God has placed me in these very real surroundings, surroundings that existed in one form or another since He created them through Christ, for a reason. What surrounds me is not all of reality, but it is nevertheless real, and should not be ignored or pushed aside. Perhaps I am a bit too platonic about these things, attaching more significance to the unseen archetypes than their real counterparts that I interact with on a daily basis, sometimes without noticing them much.
-One exception to this, by the way, is nature. I have always been acutely aware of the beauty of the natural world, and am thankful that God has revealed Himself to me in this way. I cannot see a sunset, or a mountain range, the blue morning sky, or the waves breaking on the shore, without sending up a silent thanks to God for placing us amid such beauty. He pronounced His creation good, and though it is now fallen and corrupted, it yet retains the shadows of its former perfection.
But now it is late, and I think I will go and play Final Fantasy with my brother. It has occurred to me that perhaps a large majority of our entertainment (games, movies, television, etc) consists of constructing a hypothetical scenario with a system of relationships and rules, and dealing with the consequences of these. I wonder what that says about us as a culture? Does it make the Enemy's job that much easier when we are constantly immersing ourselves in alternate scenarios instead of focusing on reality? Is it so hard to deal with this life that we must create fictional realities to escape from it? Or are we just too lazy or fearful to fix the problems in our own lives, so we escape to other places to evade them?
Something to think about, anyway... time to end this.
-Joseph
Friday, August 31, 2007
The phantom piper
So this morning, as I was about to leave for work, I heard a rather unexpected sound of bagpipes outside my window. Looking out, I saw that a man was standing in a grassy spot across the street, and had begun to play the 'pipes. This, of course, required that I stay and listen. He played several different songs, one of which I recognized (though sadly, Amazing Grace was not forthcoming), before finally vanishing as suddenly as he had appeared.
Let us all hope the phantom piper returns someday... to finish what he started with a little "Scotland the Brave"...
On the other hand, he is more or less solely responsible for me not getting into work nearly as early as I had planned.
Curse you, phantom piper!!! *shakes fist*
Let us all hope the phantom piper returns someday... to finish what he started with a little "Scotland the Brave"...
On the other hand, he is more or less solely responsible for me not getting into work nearly as early as I had planned.
Curse you, phantom piper!!! *shakes fist*
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Camp: Day 2
The next three days of camp started in roughly the same fashion; waking up and meandering into the dining room to help set out breakfast. This involved everything from helping the ladies in the kitchen (who spoke only Taiwanese. We managed to work with them fairly well, however) carry vast pots of rice, to setting out little bowls of condiments for the mountains of toast we helped prepare from numerous loaves of bread. Feeding 153 plus staff meant putting out vast quantities of food, and even then a few mornings we and the Chinese staff had to snatch what little was left after the kids had gotten theirs.
Breakfast consisted of toast some mornings, with available toppings including peanut butter, jelly, scrambled eggs, cucumbers, and a shredded pork substance rather like what's left over in a pencil sharpener. Other mornings it was a bowl of watered-down rice, with available condiments including the eggs, cucumbers and pork stuff, and also some spicy pickled flour dumplings, and a few other odd dishes. We either had soy milk or passion fruit juice to drink, both of which were excellent. I don't know the secret to their soy milk, but whatever the serve at camp is much better than the stuff you get there.
After breakfast there was a brief clean up time, which gave us a chance to finish eating and quickly discuss our plans for the next chapel period, which began directly afterward.
This morning, we led the kids in a song, Father Abraham (the girl's suggestion, since it involved simple words and "fun" motions), which went pretty well. The Chinese staff had them sing a song or two and then performed the next installment of the drama. After this, Erica gave her testimony, and a female pastor (male pastors are often in short supply in Taiwan, for both cultural and practical reasons) named Lydia spoke to the kids for a while. The kids then left for their cabin times, and we started preparing for the classes we would teach that day. Due to the extreme number of kids, Ron asked us to split up and teach two classes, even though there were only five of us. Caleb and Jacob taught Aussie rules football, continuing from the last camp, and Erica, Rebecca and I taught the English class. Caleb and Jacob apparently had a decent time of it, except when it rained briefly and the staff ordered everyone inside until it stopped. (because everyone knows that a little bit of rain makes kids sick. Or at least that seemed to be their reasoning.) For our part, we had mostly girls, which was expected, and for the most part they were very well-behaved, albeit very quiet. (Except for one girl, who was apparently spoiled cock-eyed.) We played welcome games to get everyone to speak up, and Erica drew pictures on the board and had everyone say the English name. Some girls knew more english than others, and so we tried not to let them answer all the questions unless no one else could.
I then played hangman with them, which they had fun with but were hesitant in guessing.
We also had them help us make lemonade. Several of the girls liked it so much that they asked us if they could fill their water bottles with it, while others made hilarious faces and pronounced it very sour. After their snack break, we played Go Fish, teaching them the english phrases that go along with it. "Do you have any ___ ?" "No, Go Fish!" etc
We also had to use class time to prepare a presentation that they would perform at the end of the camp. This was difficult for us, because while the kids like to perform up front, they liked to do this in Chinese. English was another matter entirely, and they were shy about using it.
Nevertheless, we planned out a short skit where the kids would be going to church, and then would sing a song at the end. One class would have a few lines of dialogue, and the other class would have responses. We later found out that this would be more difficult than we thought to organize, because due to scheduling conflicts the two classes never had a chance to practice together! After we had practiced with them for a while, we played Duck Duck Goose, which they enjoyed except when one girl slipped and fell. The floors are mostly all concrete there, but fortunately she only bruised and scared herself. After class was over, there was a short break, and then it was time for lunch. This worked similarly to breakfast, we stood behind the tables and handed out food until the kids were all through the line, then got our own. This year, due to the sheer number of kids, we sat at our own table instead of interspersing among them. It was good in one sense, as we had a little bit of space this way, but I also felt a little segregated, sitting at "the foreigner's table" as it were.
After lunch, the kids assembled in the chapel, and then broke up into groups and went to different station games. We each worked a station the first and second periods. The first period for me was floor hockey, in the top floor of the dormitories. It was the fourth story, a totally open room with windows all down two sides, with a spectacular view of the surrounding area and mountains beyond. I had felt sick and somewhat depressed earlier, but now my spirits began to rise. I was coming to this beautiful country to spend a year. I opened all the windows, and the room cooled down to a reasonable level. Mark Heinsman had been sent out after drinks for all of us, and I drank mine (a peach green tea) as I waited there for the kids to start arriving. This took longer than I expected, so I had some welcome solitude for a few moments. These were spent somewhat in just getting a breather and cooling down, and also in talking to God for a while. Eventually the kids started to arrive. They didn't speak much english that would be helpful in floor hockey, but little was necessary. I divided the kids up onto even teams when they didn't do it by themselves, and managed the flow of kids coming in and out. Some epic battles raged, and I could mostly watch and restart the matches after each goal. Since I was little, I have always appreciated situations where the adults or people in charge let us have fun with minimal interference, and thus try to take this approach when the situation calls for it.
In this case, the kids were having fun, and so a furious floor hockey war raged largely unabated for the whole first period. Any number from 4 to at least 14 kids were involved at various points, and my job was largely to referee if necessary, and as previously stated, restart the match after the goal. (this was done with enough anticipation as possible. I would set the ball down, carefully center it, act as if I were going to back up, then as the kids started to jump forward, reach back down and adjust the ball. Then, turning to each side and asking "ready?" I would jump out of the way and shout "go!" at which point both sides converged upon the ball and chaos ensued) The points quickly became irrelevant as kids were continually coming and going, what mattered was the scrimmage. After spending the first period this way, the time for swapping out came, and a huge influx of kids who spoke nearly no english arrived, indicating that they expected to practice archery there. I had no idea which of the Chinese staff was teaching archery, so I headed back downstairs, followed by a large crowd of children. Eventually they saw the archery guy carrying the bows upstairs, and ran to follow him.
After the activities wrapped up, there was a "world wide buffet" which also spanned dinner time. A variety of dishes, mostly altered from their original context, were set up on trays and tables outside, and the kids filed through and picked what they wanted. I was starting to feel overheated and sick, and so I ate little. This did not improve matters, and by the time showtime in the chapel rolled around, I was in a cold sweat. Our presentation about America and Alabama that Caleb had put together was first, and I advanced the slides while he narrated and Erica and Rebecca acted out each slide. (football and baseball, for example) Once that was over, Starcey and Janet came out and explained the next event, which was the kids' cabin group presentations. For this, they introduced a panel of three "judges" (complete with upbeat techno intro music) who would award prizes to the best presentations. The group presentations are usually the most opaque part of the camp to we Americans, and this time was no exception.
Not only are the presentations completely in Chinese, but they reference popular Taiwanese TV shows, or other things which the costumes and actions do not clearly convey to us without an understanding of the language. They are usually entertaining, though, and some of the groups did a very good job. When this was over, the kids went to their cabin time, and I went to bed shortly afterwards. I felt better in the morning, there is always one night during the first camp when the heat and exhaustion take a toll on my body, but having recovered I'm usually ok.
I also had heat rash this year, though less severely than in previous years, but decided afterwards that it was actually due totally or primarily to the new, unwashed camp shirts. (either from the dye, or from the fact that the shirts did not breath at all until washed. Judging from the placement of the rash on my arms, it was from the dye.)
This was a happy revelation for me, since it means that I don't just automatically get heat rash from being over there during the summer. Some powder I borrowed from the Heinsmans helped dry the rash up, and so the story has a happy ending. Which is just as well, as you doubtless are not interested in hearing any more about it.
At this point, the camp was half over. We were still tired, but getting into the swing of things.
The next day would be similar to this one until lunch, but we would have the water war after that, and then the campfire and gospel presentation, the most important night of the camp...
would the clear weather hold? Find out in the next installment....
Next Time: Water war and CampFire II
-Joseph
Breakfast consisted of toast some mornings, with available toppings including peanut butter, jelly, scrambled eggs, cucumbers, and a shredded pork substance rather like what's left over in a pencil sharpener. Other mornings it was a bowl of watered-down rice, with available condiments including the eggs, cucumbers and pork stuff, and also some spicy pickled flour dumplings, and a few other odd dishes. We either had soy milk or passion fruit juice to drink, both of which were excellent. I don't know the secret to their soy milk, but whatever the serve at camp is much better than the stuff you get there.
After breakfast there was a brief clean up time, which gave us a chance to finish eating and quickly discuss our plans for the next chapel period, which began directly afterward.
This morning, we led the kids in a song, Father Abraham (the girl's suggestion, since it involved simple words and "fun" motions), which went pretty well. The Chinese staff had them sing a song or two and then performed the next installment of the drama. After this, Erica gave her testimony, and a female pastor (male pastors are often in short supply in Taiwan, for both cultural and practical reasons) named Lydia spoke to the kids for a while. The kids then left for their cabin times, and we started preparing for the classes we would teach that day. Due to the extreme number of kids, Ron asked us to split up and teach two classes, even though there were only five of us. Caleb and Jacob taught Aussie rules football, continuing from the last camp, and Erica, Rebecca and I taught the English class. Caleb and Jacob apparently had a decent time of it, except when it rained briefly and the staff ordered everyone inside until it stopped. (because everyone knows that a little bit of rain makes kids sick. Or at least that seemed to be their reasoning.) For our part, we had mostly girls, which was expected, and for the most part they were very well-behaved, albeit very quiet. (Except for one girl, who was apparently spoiled cock-eyed.) We played welcome games to get everyone to speak up, and Erica drew pictures on the board and had everyone say the English name. Some girls knew more english than others, and so we tried not to let them answer all the questions unless no one else could.
I then played hangman with them, which they had fun with but were hesitant in guessing.
We also had them help us make lemonade. Several of the girls liked it so much that they asked us if they could fill their water bottles with it, while others made hilarious faces and pronounced it very sour. After their snack break, we played Go Fish, teaching them the english phrases that go along with it. "Do you have any ___ ?" "No, Go Fish!" etc
We also had to use class time to prepare a presentation that they would perform at the end of the camp. This was difficult for us, because while the kids like to perform up front, they liked to do this in Chinese. English was another matter entirely, and they were shy about using it.
Nevertheless, we planned out a short skit where the kids would be going to church, and then would sing a song at the end. One class would have a few lines of dialogue, and the other class would have responses. We later found out that this would be more difficult than we thought to organize, because due to scheduling conflicts the two classes never had a chance to practice together! After we had practiced with them for a while, we played Duck Duck Goose, which they enjoyed except when one girl slipped and fell. The floors are mostly all concrete there, but fortunately she only bruised and scared herself. After class was over, there was a short break, and then it was time for lunch. This worked similarly to breakfast, we stood behind the tables and handed out food until the kids were all through the line, then got our own. This year, due to the sheer number of kids, we sat at our own table instead of interspersing among them. It was good in one sense, as we had a little bit of space this way, but I also felt a little segregated, sitting at "the foreigner's table" as it were.
After lunch, the kids assembled in the chapel, and then broke up into groups and went to different station games. We each worked a station the first and second periods. The first period for me was floor hockey, in the top floor of the dormitories. It was the fourth story, a totally open room with windows all down two sides, with a spectacular view of the surrounding area and mountains beyond. I had felt sick and somewhat depressed earlier, but now my spirits began to rise. I was coming to this beautiful country to spend a year. I opened all the windows, and the room cooled down to a reasonable level. Mark Heinsman had been sent out after drinks for all of us, and I drank mine (a peach green tea) as I waited there for the kids to start arriving. This took longer than I expected, so I had some welcome solitude for a few moments. These were spent somewhat in just getting a breather and cooling down, and also in talking to God for a while. Eventually the kids started to arrive. They didn't speak much english that would be helpful in floor hockey, but little was necessary. I divided the kids up onto even teams when they didn't do it by themselves, and managed the flow of kids coming in and out. Some epic battles raged, and I could mostly watch and restart the matches after each goal. Since I was little, I have always appreciated situations where the adults or people in charge let us have fun with minimal interference, and thus try to take this approach when the situation calls for it.
In this case, the kids were having fun, and so a furious floor hockey war raged largely unabated for the whole first period. Any number from 4 to at least 14 kids were involved at various points, and my job was largely to referee if necessary, and as previously stated, restart the match after the goal. (this was done with enough anticipation as possible. I would set the ball down, carefully center it, act as if I were going to back up, then as the kids started to jump forward, reach back down and adjust the ball. Then, turning to each side and asking "ready?" I would jump out of the way and shout "go!" at which point both sides converged upon the ball and chaos ensued) The points quickly became irrelevant as kids were continually coming and going, what mattered was the scrimmage. After spending the first period this way, the time for swapping out came, and a huge influx of kids who spoke nearly no english arrived, indicating that they expected to practice archery there. I had no idea which of the Chinese staff was teaching archery, so I headed back downstairs, followed by a large crowd of children. Eventually they saw the archery guy carrying the bows upstairs, and ran to follow him.
After the activities wrapped up, there was a "world wide buffet" which also spanned dinner time. A variety of dishes, mostly altered from their original context, were set up on trays and tables outside, and the kids filed through and picked what they wanted. I was starting to feel overheated and sick, and so I ate little. This did not improve matters, and by the time showtime in the chapel rolled around, I was in a cold sweat. Our presentation about America and Alabama that Caleb had put together was first, and I advanced the slides while he narrated and Erica and Rebecca acted out each slide. (football and baseball, for example) Once that was over, Starcey and Janet came out and explained the next event, which was the kids' cabin group presentations. For this, they introduced a panel of three "judges" (complete with upbeat techno intro music) who would award prizes to the best presentations. The group presentations are usually the most opaque part of the camp to we Americans, and this time was no exception.
Not only are the presentations completely in Chinese, but they reference popular Taiwanese TV shows, or other things which the costumes and actions do not clearly convey to us without an understanding of the language. They are usually entertaining, though, and some of the groups did a very good job. When this was over, the kids went to their cabin time, and I went to bed shortly afterwards. I felt better in the morning, there is always one night during the first camp when the heat and exhaustion take a toll on my body, but having recovered I'm usually ok.
I also had heat rash this year, though less severely than in previous years, but decided afterwards that it was actually due totally or primarily to the new, unwashed camp shirts. (either from the dye, or from the fact that the shirts did not breath at all until washed. Judging from the placement of the rash on my arms, it was from the dye.)
This was a happy revelation for me, since it means that I don't just automatically get heat rash from being over there during the summer. Some powder I borrowed from the Heinsmans helped dry the rash up, and so the story has a happy ending. Which is just as well, as you doubtless are not interested in hearing any more about it.
At this point, the camp was half over. We were still tired, but getting into the swing of things.
The next day would be similar to this one until lunch, but we would have the water war after that, and then the campfire and gospel presentation, the most important night of the camp...
would the clear weather hold? Find out in the next installment....
Next Time: Water war and CampFire II
-Joseph
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