Visitors

Our missionary house serves as a hub for other ministries and missionaries coming and going.  Right now we have a student teacher Molly from Concordia Wisconsin who is here for three months.  Also visiting this weekend is another student teacher Anna who is doing her internship at a Christian school in another city in Taiwan.  Long-term missionary, pastor, and professor Hank Rowold came from the seminary in Northern Taiwan to preach for us in our home and serve us communion.  Sitting in our living room around our coffee table where the bread and wine were waiting, I had a picture of Jesus in the upper room with his disciples sitting around a table, chatting and eating their Passover meal.  Our communion was a little unorthodox in that we gave each other communion one by one, handing them the wafer saying, "Emily, the body of Christ for you," and "Michael, the body of Christ for you", and the same as we passed the cup.  It was very personal.  During Hank's lesson, I found myself leaning in close to hear every word.  Even as teachers and missionaries, we still crave being taught. And it's such a treat to be able to sit and listen to someone else do the teaching and encouraging.


Our visitors Molly, Anna, and Hank remind me that it's so refreshing to have visitors here.  Now Anna's gone back to her city to teach and Hank is returning back to the seminary.  As I show Molly the ropes and introduce her to different things, it's kind of funny to remember that that was me only a year ago!  It makes me realize how much I've learned.  I'm looking forward to working with Molly in my Spanish classes and to learn from each other.


All in all, our house is full right now and that makes us pretty happy campers.  Thank you, God, for bringing more people to Taiwan!

Sick

Most of the time I love my life in Taiwan.  I am living in the moment, with my mind on my job here and now, and not in some far-off stretches of the past or distant dream in the future.

But when I do think of home, when I talk to friends and family, I get so homesick.  I can taste snow on my tongue, feel the touch of my bed's flannel sheets, inhale the familiar scents of dryer sheets and stew.  I have snapshots in my mind of my mom's summer flowers and dad's English cap and our freshly-mowed lawn.  I remember old jokes with friends and evening strolls and games with family.  Home has always been a transcendent place for me, even magical.  This is by far the longest I have ever been away, and it's hard.

But I am not overwhelmed by the challenge; I am encouraged.  I am thankful to be here in Taiwan and to have the job that I have.  I am thankful to have such a wonderful home.  I am thankful that our eternal home is in heaven-- endless, perfect, face-to-face with God.

If anyone reading this is sick for home or missing a time long past or longing for familiar faces, know that you are not alone.  Don't let it distract you.  Keep on running towards your goal.  Be thankful for the time that you have.  Be prayerful and watchful as God prepares you for your eternal home.

Dear Dad and Mom,

Thank you for making our home a beautiful, beautiful one.  I can't wait to come home!

But first... we have three more months full of days full of moments full of opportunities to take.

加油!  Fuel up and keep going!  Let's go!


Love,

Anna

Let's Pray

In my writing classes, my students are working on composing short stories, so today was a free work day.  Usually I start class with prayer, but today I didn't.  I started giving announcements and directions, and one of my students raised her hand and said, "teacher!  we didn't pray!"

"Oh!  Well.... would you like for us to pray?"  I admit I sounded a bit incredulous.

I saw several heads nodding and heard an "uh YEAH."  I'm pretty sure I beamed at those kids.


Thank you, Lord, for my students.  Thank you for how you work in our hearts little by little.  Please let our daily class prayer teach them how to talk with you as children talk with their Father.

Thankful

Today I'm thankful for: maple syrup, English radio, baseball games.

I had fun with the 6th grade boy I tutored today.  He comes from a good Christian family, but I was never really sure what he believed personally.  He's a smart kid, but his English level is fairly low.  He used to come in and sit down and not say much, only answering my questions with a mumbled yes or no.  But after praying and brainstorming about how to connect with him, I had some ideas.  I remembered that he liked science, so I gave him a picture of the universe and asked him to explain.  He was flabbergasted when I first pretended to know nothing about the universe, but then he vigorously started explaining to me how the universe works, using circumlocution around the big English words he didn't know (like revolution and gravity).  I'd never heard him speak so much!  Since then I've given him pictures of the water cycle, a volcano, a plant diagram, and he always amazes me with how much he talks and what giant concepts he's able to convey.  That also broke the ice.  Today we laughed a lot, and now he even speaks freely with things unrelated to the science pictures.  

In our conversation today he mentioned how the parades in Taiwan are bad.  "Why?" I asked.  He said a Chinese word that I didn't understand.  After thinking about how to explain it, he said, "When we die, we go to God.  He is in heaven.  There is another place, with Shadan." 

    "Oh yeah, Satan,"  I caught on.

     "Yes.  And Satan is in the Chinese parade.  I don't like."

     "Yes, I agree.  Those gods are not real, right?  They are made of wood.  They cannot do anything."

     "Yeah,"  my student laughed.

     "I am so glad that our God is strong.  He can do everything!"

      "Yeah,"  he laughed again.

It was a simple conversation that ended there, but I was glad to hear my student confess his faith in the true, uncreated God with childlike simplicity.  I am glad the Christians in Taiwan are raising their children in the knowledge of the God's Word and how we should interpret our world through God's Word.

Yeah, it was a good day.

Did I make a difference today?  Am I making any impact at all?

Doubts buzz around my head.  My to-do list seems lengthier than my will, and I can't seem to scratch anything off it anymore than one can scratch out air.  As the midnight clock splits the emptiness with each thunderous tick, my own mortality knocks on my cranium, refusing to be forgotten.  My time, my days, my every breath is an investment from my Heavenly Father.  Will I bury it in the dirt, refusing to draw interest?  Will I while away the time until the end, wondering where it's gone and wondering where I missed my chance to make a difference?  Or will I hear at the end of my days a "well done, good and faithful servant"?  Stepping off the plane and onto the mission field is not a guarantee that I will make a difference; it's only the first step.  It's the daily walk with God that bears the fruit, one day at a time, one step at a time.

We are not called to be wielders of a shoulder-shrugging faith.  Through the Holy Spirit and by the blood of Jesus we are born again with authority to be radical, transformed, set apart from the world, to be people of integrity.  We are empowered to stand firm in a shaking world, to pray for our enemies, to protect the helpless, to be thankful in the midst of trials, to be joyful in the face of death.  God does great things in us, his children.

Are we making a difference?  With the Holy Spirit of Yahweh living inside of us, how can we not?  But we may not see the impact we have.  If you are like me, wondering if your walk with God is making a difference in the world, take these words from Mother Teresa as encouragement:

People are often unreasonable, illogical and self centered;
Forgive them anyway.
If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives;
Be kind anyway.
If you are successful, you will win some false friends and some true enemies;
Succeed anyway.
If you are honest and frank, people may cheat you;
Be honest and frank anyway.
What you spend years building, someone could destroy overnight;
Build anyway.
If you find serenity and happiness, they may be jealous;
Be happy anyway.
The good you do today, people will often forget tomorrow;
Do good anyway.
Give the world the best you have, and it may never be enough;
Give the world the best you've got anyway.
You see, in the final analysis, it is between you and your God;
It was never between you and them anyway.

All my zealous endeavors and idealistic inspiration falls flat before the cross.  Savior, the measure of my strength lies between your outstretched hands.  Christ has already made all the difference.

Six months

I've been in Taiwan for 6 months now.  I look around church and see all the faces that I know.  Six months ago many were strangers; now they are familiar and friendly and full of care.  It's funny how comfortable one can become in another country.  I wish everyone had an opportunity to experience life as an expat, to have that free-falling feeling of being detached from everything you knew back home.  You start as a stranger, and leave as a friend, and find yourself free-falling again.  It will be hard to leave Taiwan for good, whenever that time may be.

I've been really busy since the second semester started.  I have a full teaching schedule with overtime hours, tutoring on top of it, not to mention Bible studies and outreach programs.  I think I need to cut down on tutoring, but it's hard to choose which students to keep and which to let go.  I want to be a blessing for all of them.  I'm praying for wisdom on how to balance my schedule.  I also pray that God would have me where he wants me, connecting with the right people to make the most impact during my time here.

My first semester I thought my biggest job here was to teach the contents of the Bible with the word of my mouth.  It's true, this is important.  But the more I live here and experience ministry, the more I realize that the way you live your life can sometimes effect people more than what comes out of your mouth.  We always say "a picture's worth a thousand words" and "preach the Gospel; when necessary, use words".   I've always known these things, but now I'm seeing it happen and learning the practical application of this.

Things like this:

Being eager to work with and help a troublesome student.  Loving people that make my life difficult.  Being patient as someone repeats to you what you already know.  Washing dirty dishes that aren't mine and not complaining.  Enthusiastically offering to do a task at school that no one else wants to do.  Being willing to meet with students during lunchtime and breaks.  When complimented, giving the glory to God.  Being thankful and joyful in all circumstances.  Not cutting shortcuts in honesty.  Keeping a rein on your tongue and never speaking badly of people.  Always being encouraging, serving, forgiving, loving.  In your freedom, choosing to be a slave.  Making people wonder why you live such a radical life.  Making people wonder what kind of God you serve.

The mission of a missionary.

"Though I am free and belong to no one, I have made myself a slave to everyone, to win as many as possible."  1 Corinthians 9

"In the same way, let your light shine before men, that they may see your good deeds and praise your Father in heaven."  Matthew 5:16

"By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another."  John 13:35

"Dear children, let us not love with words or tongue but with actions and in truth."  1 John 3:18

The Story of Taroko

When I heard we had a four day weekend coming up, I did what any lover of adventure does:  I planned a trip.

My destination was Taroko Gorge National Park on the northeastern coast of Taiwan: it's about as far away from Chiayi as you can get on the island.  As soon as my grading was finished for the semester and turned into the Department of Student Records, I hopped on the train solo with a backpack full of long sleeves, hiking shoes, some good music, and a Chinese/English Bible.  What else does a girl need for a weekend in the mountains?

Whereas the mountain range running down the spine of Taiwan is green and rolling, Taroko is the most rugged place I've seen in Taiwan yet, with jagged cliffs and slopes of scree landing in the renown gorge that cuts deep through the mountains.   My hostel was in the town of Taroko.  It's about a mile's length from the sea and just at the mouth of the gorge where the river is still wide and shallow.

On my way to find some supper that first night, I spotted a church on the hill across from the convenience store.  It had stain-glass windows, and that's what drew me-- I hadn't seen stain glass anywhere in my nine months in Taiwan.  It was getting dark as I walked up to the church.  Some people were barbecuing and saw me admiring the building.  A little girl came to me, and when I told her I wanted to look at the church, she ran and got the pastor, who led me to the door, unlocked it, and handed me the keys.  I sat for a while, enjoying the solitude.  Bible verses in Chinese characters and another language I didn't recognize were displayed in the front of the sanctuary.  It was refreshing to sit in a church, to just sit and think and pray. I was reminded of my college days at Concordia, when the chapel was always open and available for quiet reflection.  I went there often, alone or with friends.  It's a resource I'm grateful for to this day, and wish I still had.

After I gave the keys back to the pastor and thanked the little girl named May, her family invited me to sit down and eat with them.  So I joined them and we communicated despite my broken Chinese (and I ate some of the best barbecue I've ever had).  I discovered I was dining with Taroko people, one of the fourteen aboriginal tribes that exist in Taiwan today.  They spoke Chinese as a second language, but Taroko (sometimes called Truku) was their native tongue.  They all were members of that church and were delighted when I told them that my dad is a pastor in America.  They asked me to stay with them and I was even handed house keys (!), but they understood when I told them I had already paid for a hostel.  After a very pleasant time with them, I was on my way again, and since I didn't need to scrounge around for food at 7-11 anymore, I headed back to the hostel to get some sleep.

The next day, Saturday, was a day full of hiking, basking in the mountain sunshine, meeting other travelers, and talking with God as I was awed by His majesty displayed in His creation.  Other than church and Christian fellowship, nothing refreshes my spirit more than being alone with God in nature. It was a beautiful time for reflection and gratitude.

Sunday morning I walked up to the church again.  I could have very well been the first foreigner to step foot in that church (in years, or ever, I didn't know), and I felt the familiar heat of all eyes probing me as I walked up those stairs.  But people responded to me with smiles and warm wishes of "pin an", "peace to you", and I mirrored their openness to show that I was comfortable with them.  The little girl May was excited to see me there, and I recognized some of her family from Friday night's barbecue.  I sat down in the back, but soon found out that's where the elderly sit (I guess even in rural Taiwan, people have "assigned pews"!).  The pastor's wife brought me to the front where she could translate for me.  Her jaw and cheekbones were sharp, announcing her aboriginal blood.  During the service, I couldn't help but look behind at me at the church:  it was packed, with no empty seats, young and old represented, both Han Chinese people and Taroko people sitting side by side.  I listened to the deaconess read the Scripture readings in the clumpy consonants of the Taroko language and then the steady marching syllables of Chinese.  The passage was from 1 Corinthians 1:26-31, and I read along in my English Bible.  I watched pastor's wife Niyu Niyu follow the liturgy in her Taroko/Chinese hymnal.  I felt the traditional song the children sang permeate every corner of that building, leaving nothing untouched.  I cried for the beauty of it.  I was hardly ashamed, and I don't think Niyu Niyu judged me at all as she handed me tissues.

On my way in, I had read a plaque written in three languages at the entrance.  This church, called Chioang Memorial Church, had a very special story behind it.  The very first Taroko Christian was a 58-year old woman who walked up the steps of a presbyterian church searching for Truth in the 1930s.  That woman, named Chioang, was baptized a year later with the help of pastoral leadership and guidance.  After two years studying the Bible, she returned to her people and fervently shared with them the truth she had found in Christ.  Many Taroko people received her message with joy.  Even during WWII when the Japanese persecuted the Christians of the village, they hid her under sacks of rice or in backpacks on their back during the day.  The end of WWII and the cessation of Japanese occupation in Taiwan brought religious freedom to the island, and the number of Taroko Christians rapidly grew to be in the thousands.  Today, churches speckle the mountain's slopes, and their graveyards are decorated with crosses and angels, not dragons and gods.

After the church service (2 hours long, and Niyu Niyu translated everything for me), the pastor's family drove me to the train station, even though I told them I had planned to take a bus.  They fed me, wouldn't let me pay, and even bought me a bag of Taiwanese delicacies to take back to Chiayi with me.  I've been saying that you cannot outdo Taiwanese hospitality, and the Taroko are no exception!  One thing they did ask of me:  to come back and teach their children English.  In my heart I determined to honor their request if at all possible.  I will find a time to return to Taroko, even if just for a weekend, to lead some English activities and do what I can.  How could I refuse?  Sometimes I wonder how I can possibly be as much of a blessing to the people here as they are to me.  Either way, God be praised!

It's funny to think that I have more in common with these strangers than so many people from my own country.  There is a connection that goes deeper than culture and language, it's the bond of faith and brotherhood in the Lord, being part of something larger than ourselves-- the body and bride of Christ.  I was at home there.  I cannot express the encouragement I felt to see the culture without the idolatry, their respect of nature without the fear of it, their honor for parents without the worship of them, their hospitality and good deeds without the motivation of earning good karma.  I cannot express how beautiful it was hearing the Word of God in their language.  I cannot express how hopeful even those graveyards appeared to me.  There it was: their own traditional culture, the same one they've passed along from generation to generation that is unique from any other tribe, and yet transformed by the knowledge of a cross and an empty tomb two thousand years ago.  Obviously, no society is perfect and there will always be sin in human culture until we go to heaven.  But it gave me hope to see that all things are possible, that God is still doing miracles to change entire nations, even starting movements with one man or one woman-- like Chioang-- who is hungry for truth.
I saw many things that weekend in Taroko, climbed many mountains, read several stories, and met interesting people.  There was a Frenchman who left all but his name in Paris to travel the world by bicycle.  There was the Czech lawyer who worked in the European Union for some time, and the New Zealander who climbed the Himalayas.  There are many stories I could tell from Taroko, but the story I am bound to tell, the story I am indebted to share, is how a loving God changed a woman, how that woman changed a nation, and how that nation changed me.