Homecoming I drove into Portland late Saturday night to pick up one of the visiting scholars, her baby daughter, her seven-year-old son, and the scholar's mother, who were returning from a one-day trip to Seattle. I drove around a little while, trying to find them, before finally seeing the scholar waving at me. I pointed in the direction of the parking lot. I parked, mindful to pull out the keys, and keep them close at hand. A large man stared at me as four Asians came filing around the corner. "Y.! Do you see who that is?" The scholar, referring to me, asked her little son. I opened the back door and reached over and positioned the car seat in which to fit her baby. They had only been gone a day, and I'd already forgotten how cute she was. Without complaint, she let me fasten the buckle around her body, her pudgy cheeks and dark brown eyes won my heart all over again. Then the grandmother came around the back and said something to the scholar who asked me to open the trunk. As they put in the stroller and their bags, the scholar looked at me and said something I will never forget. "It feels like coming back home to family!" At that moment, any frustration after having driven back to Tigard and back (another half an hour added to my journey), missing the correct exit, the fear from nearly driving into a "bus only lane" and the anger at having been just around the corner and their being unable to locate me, all dissipated. I remembered how, being a foreigner in China, I never felt like a foreigner when I arrived back to my town of Xiaogan after a trip away somewhere else in China. This must be how they felt. And "yes," I said, you are coming home, and better yet, I am family, the greatest honor someone could bestow. Being pushed We sat around the table. There was another table in the other room because, praise the Lord, our Saturday night studies had since outgrown one area. Chinese was being spoken at one table, and English at the other. I decided against sitting at the Chinese table, because, while I don't usually mind not understanding what people say, it was much more difficult to not glean something from "Bible study" if I could help it. The volunteer who leads the international student and scholar Bible studies in our home had decided this week we were going to talk about any struggles we might have. He let those at the table voice their struggles and offer advice and insight into the struggles of others. After reading the parable of the lost sheep, he opened up the discussion. One of the students talked about the trouble he was having prioritizing things in his life. He had been putting off homework for a TV show. Others voiced the same struggle. At that moment, one of the girls who was also a Christian, spoke up as she did several times during the night and said "I know how you can solve this problem." "How?" the other student asked. "Do one hour of Bible reading a day, and it has to be at the beginning of the day." The girl smiled. I was caught off guard. This same girl had told me that she had spent time with God the day before and He had spoken to her about loving her enemies which had helped her conquer a difficult roommate situation. So, I knew that she had grown a great deal over the last year, but to hear her say this struck a tone with me. I, myself, had slacked on my quiet times with God, and, of late, I'd been feeling this, hungry for some deeper time. Now, here was a student who I had helped disciple, who was now teaching me. Faith What does it mean to have faith? The topic came up at the same Bible study, as one of the girls, who is not yet a Christian, shared how her aunt, in reply to the questions this student was asking about her faith, simply told her "Don't think to hard." The leader pointed out that this was a cross roads of culture. In many cultures, you follow the authority or tradition, and in others, you are taught to follow what you believe. Somehow, as a result of this discussion, the question "What is faith?" arose. I expected to hear about believing, despite doubts, or in what you can't see, normal cliche answers. These did come up later, but I was blown away by the first story that was shared. Another one of the Christians who was present was A., a visiting scholar from China. He is the only visiting scholar, of the 11, who is a Christian. He and his wife have a younger son. They are all enjoying their time here in a place where their Christian faith is much more accepted than where they are in China. This scholar began what he had to say by prefacing it with the fact that once you believe in something for yourself, you don't change. Then he went on to say ... "When my grandparents became communists, they were wealthy land owners. They gave all their land away because they believed in communism. Later they were tortured and committed suicide. My father, because he had made the decision to be a communist, did not change. Even to his death, although he probably had some doubts, he believed in communism. I think that is faith. You make your own decision and you do not change, no matter what."
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We talked about Peter walking on the water toward Jesus last week in our Friday night group. (We call our Friday nights "LJ Fellowship.") One of the questions on the discussion sheet was "Have you ever been scared? What did you do?" One of the students, a male upper classman, but new to the University, said "Remember that plane that crashed in San Francisco last year? I was supposed to be on that plane. I booked that ticket first, then decided to change it because I thought, since it was my first time to travel abroad, that a more direct flight would be better." This student, Sh., though a quiet student, is open to Christianity. He came to international chapel earlier that day, and the next night he was to come to our Bible study. He even observed the Christian music in my car and said he liked it. I thank God that he spared Sh.
Tonight the Lord and I had some very sweet moments together. I asked Him too "woo me". Nothing special happened. I just started noticing everything around me, and everything felt so alive and happy. The old tree with its branches pointing in all directions, the moon with it's sillouette peaking out between the clouds, the asphalt underneath me, the college students laughing and talking around me, the smell of clean air, It was so sweet to be alive. I think God likes me ;) I think it must be a bit like heaven ;)
Yesterday I stumbled across M. and JQ in the library. I don't go there at nights, usually, but I felt a pull to go. Since we had no internet at our house, I headed over to send out some of my updates. It must have been a God thing because the two girls were there alone in the same study room. I asked if I could join them. M. told me they'd been talking and JQ had helped her a lot. I didn't know what that meant but I felt grateful. How many hours had we prayed for JQ, a returning student, to stay strong in The Lord. Ultra sensitive to The Lord and yet so guilt ridden, she reminded me much of myself in her doubting and spiritual worries. Now, however, she is being a power house reading the word, seeking God with her heart and mentoring freshmen nonbelievers like M. I know she'll never be stable, but neither am I, and, as we said last night, we are able to help others because others helped us. M. broke down in tears several more times after my arrival, but she said repeatedly she hadn't been able to share this with anyone. She really needed someone to talk to. She is crazy homesick, an only child across the world from her elderly grandparents and loving parents. We talked about family, guys and cultural adjustments. JQ offered wonderful insights and listened well throughout. Before we all left, Madina asked how I knew they would be there. I told her I didn't, but that it was God.
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