The two days of traveling was grueling. Most of our team hadn’t showered for days, some of us not even able to sleep on the three flights from Toronto to Hong Kong, Hong Kong to Chengdu, Chengdu to Xichang. Excluding waiting times at the airport, we had been in the air for almost an entire day.
Accustomed to strategic planning and managing relatively predictable environments, I was feeling a bit edgy. What would the youths be like? How would I fare, not knowing how to speak Mandarin? Being forewarned about the explicit use of religious language, how could we possibly communicate the gospel if we were not allowed to use words?
After one night at the airport hotel in Chengdu (in which my roommate woke up only to discover she had been feasted on by mosquitoes all night), we were set to take a three-hour bus ride up the mountains in Liangshan. We had been alerted that it would be a bumpy ride (no worries, our team brought plenty of Gravol).
Having braced myself for motion sickness, I had not anticipated that the bus ride would have been the highlight of our travel. The mountainous landscape was utterly picturesque: lush green pastures; animals—dogs, cows, oxen, chickens, goats, herds of sheep; mud huts and mini-villages throughout; families emerging from their homes, carrying babies on their backs, hauling wood; men and women lounging on hilltops; children running in groups or solitarily across fields; bridges, miniature waterfalls, rows and rows of trees.
The higher up we went, the more stunning the horizon became.
Passing by all the greenery, I had difficulty imagining that we were heading to the Zhaojue Youth Center. Almost three hours later, however, the village emerged, 2100 meters above ground.
Our accommodations surpassed my expectations. The Youth Center itself was well kept, spacious, resourceful. The soccer field was freshly mowed, the cement ground free of litter, the offices and classrooms possessing an air of modernity. If you stand in the heart of the Youth Center, all you see are these nice buildings and the beautiful mountains encircling them.
It is not until you step out of the Youth Center that you really get a good look of the village.
As you make your way out, clouds of dust blow into the Youth Center from the welding factory next door. Upon exiting the steel gates, you might encounter a chorus of young voices excitedly shouting “hello!” These children, familiar with visiting westerners, are like many of the little ones we see: black smears on their precious, innocent faces, grimy clothing, a handful of them with chillingly mature poses—cigarettes in their hands, newborns in their arms, giant baskets strapped to their backs.
All sorts of smells greet you during your stroll—varying sizes of “landmines”; banana peels, partially eaten plums left rotting on the ground, mounds of cabbage, hundreds of flies swarming over them—you may even see the fresh skin of a horse lying flat on the pavement, with its ears, mane and everything.
Strangely, amidst the heat, many of the men are dressed in suit jackets and dress pants, though the material is worn. Some women are dressed in traditional Yi clothing, others in more contemporary apparel. Here and there, women are found breastfeeding in public, children pissing on the sidewalk, and everyone spitting on the ground.
I must admit, during the whole two weeks, I had been so concerned about sanitation that I had gone as far as refraining from drinking water during the day (unless I was in the Youth Center) so that I would not have to use any public washrooms—this included the two days spent pruning vegetable plants under the scorching sun at Sunshine Farm. Dehydration for cleanliness. To the city girl, it was a rational trade.
How peculiar our team of nine must have seemed to the locals, with our six cameras clicking and flashing, expressions of awe and wonderment on our faces every time something even remotely unusual took place.
Zhaojue Youth Center
Our team was taken aback by the sheer friendliness and joy of the youths. There were forty-seven of them, mostly girls. Seeing them eat dinner in the cafeteria on the first day, we waved to them, even before any formal introductions took place—they smiled and waved back enthusiastically.
God made his presence known right from the start.
Our team did devotions at seven every morning. We were studying the book of Hebrews, one chapter for every day we were in China. Many of us were open with each other about our initial doubts: how much could a “Cultural Exchange Team” from Toronto accomplish in a mere ten days?
The nine of us wore our uniforms on the first day: a black t-shirt inscribed with 1 Corinthians 13 in both English and Chinese—the characters forming the shape of the Canadian flag.
During one of our first classes on Canada and its history, a student raised his hand: “What’s the Church like in Canada?” And then another. “Are all Canadians Christians?” My heart swelled up in tears—we didn’t have to initiate any conversations about God—the youths were doing that on their own. Had I forgotten that God was in control of the circumstances—even in Zhaojue?
Five members of our team spoke Mandarin; four of us were dependent on them as translators. At certain moments, I had felt frustrated and discouraged with my not knowing the language. Sitting with the girls one-on-one, whether in class or during meals, I yearned to be able to ask them questions about their life. However, I was restricted to the Mandarin-speakers nearby, basic conversation (i.e. “What’s your name?” “How old are you?”), or exaggerated hand gestures and facial expressions when no one was around.
As each new day came, God taught us about patience and persistence. Gradually picking up bits and pieces of the language, the non-Mandarin speakers on the team were determined to use the language no matter how silly we appeared. The youths were helpful and encouraging. Many meals became lesson times for us—the youths were eager to teach us not only Mandarin, but also the Yi language, including songs in their culture.
Other heartfelt experiences took place between us and the youths in spite of the language barrier. A few particularly stand out in my memory.
One day after some of the girls performed an impressive and entertaining Yi dance in their colorful costumes, we went to the open field to take pictures with them. Later someone suggested that the three girls on our team try on their costumes. The youths were ecstatic about the idea. Not only did three girls promptly volunteer to take off their costumes, but they also assisted us in putting on the clothing, even coaching us on how to pose for the camera.
During one of our break times, our team decided to ask some of the youths to join us for mountain hiking. Walking along the path with some of the girls, a sense of desperation came upon me as I realized I could not communicate with them on my own. As the trek up the mountain grew more difficult, however (the steepness, wet mud, and lack of an actual trail did not appear to obstruct the girls at all), the girls immediately came to my rescue. Two or three of them jumped ahead of me during the climb, calling out to me “Chan lo si” (teacher), reaching out their hands to pull me up, pointing to the exact spots of where I needed to place my feet—easing my city-girl fears of the long way down the mountain. Upon arriving at the top, I was amazed by the breathtaking view.
How many times had God responded to my doubts and insecurities? How many times had He enabled me to rise beyond the seeming limitations? Beholding the entire village from the mountaintop, along with the girls who got us there—God’s glory and power were manifest: love was not restricted by mere words.
“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. - 2 Corinthians 12:9Although no classes took place on the weekend, our team had the opportunity to become acquainted with some of the students in more intimate settings. Three of the long-termers invited groups of us to each of their homes, along with several groups of students from the center. While savoring the comfort of a home-cooked meal, we were able to engage in meaningful conversation. Paired up with another member on my team, we filled our stomachs with pumpkin, fish, vegetables, and juicy lychees—as we listened to each student’s personal story. Late that night, my team member and I decided to pass on taking a taxi and walked back to the center with the girls. In spite of the late hour, the streets were nonetheless busy, many stores still open. It was during this time that we had the chance to hear one of the student’s testimonies of how she became a Christian. This was perhaps one of the most surprising yet heartening discoveries on the trip—that there were already Christians among the students. Not only were we able to hear their testimonies, but some of us were even able to pray with them before we left.
When our team of nine reconvened and shared about our respective dinners in the long-termers’ homes, an interesting remark was made. During dinnertime, one of the other teams was able to bring two individuals to Christ. Of course, we praised the Lord for this. Very bluntly, however, one of the members, speaking Cantonese, compared the feat to “picking up dead chickens.” The others laughed. I did not understand the expression. He explained to me that he used the expression often in sports: it describes the player who scores the goal but someone else had done the work to set up the goal. As bizarre as the expression was, I was humbled by the comparison.
He was right. Our team was only going to be there for ten days. We taught classes, spent our recreation time playing ultimate Frisbee, soccer, and baseball with the youths, and conversed with them during meals. Knowing that we had spent two days traveling all the way from Toronto to see them, knowing that we had spent thousands of dollars on airfare—the students were thankful and even baffled by our sacrifice. But could this compare to the sacrifice of the long-termers who were in China indefinitely? Who were away from their families? Who dedicated all their energies to the youths—caring for them, loving them, praying for them? Was not the conversion by these individuals a product of all their hard work?
“For it is God who works in you, both to will and to work for his good pleasure.” Philippians 2:13
God uses us in different ways, according to His timing—but we are all doing His work.
The long-termers became resonating reminders to me of what it meant to be good soldiers of Christ. Not only were they loving and hardworking, but they also had this impressive ability to be meticulously detailed and attentive. Prior to the trip, our team members had planned our lessons again and again, emailing and phoning them regarding the particulars. They taught us about the needs of the youths, the sensitivity of the teachers at the center. While we were in Zhaojue, they continually asked us what we wanted—alerted us of Internet access so that we could communicate with our family back home—instructed us on places to eat—took us out on the weekend—fed us well: they epitomized hospitality. Moreover, they prayed unceasingly. During Sunday worship, you witnessed their absolute thirst for the Lord, tears in their eyes upon hearing a sermon on Church unity. Most of all, they knew and had a heart for the Yi people. While visiting Sunshine Farm, one of the long-termers introduced us to her cat—which she had adopted not too long ago. The cat appeared emaciated, dirty, barely with any fur, perpetually letting out a shrill ‘meow.’ “If we take good care of their animals,” the long-termer said firmly, “how much more will the Yi people know we care for them.”
Prayer WalkThen there was the prayer walk. Our team split into two groups, walking the village, becoming watchful observers of the poverty surrounding us, as the long-termers informed us of its dire needs. “Clubs” invaded by officials. Alcohol and drug addictions (on several occasions, I witnessed drunken men staggering in the middle of the streets while cars and trucks dangerously zipped past them).
Uneducated children. Breakdown of the family. Violence between them. Primitive hospital facilities (the tuberculosis patient sharing the same room with the meningitis patient, nurses freely spitting on hospital grounds…). Animistic worship. Each person in my group took turns saying a prayer for the very place we were standing in. While uttering our prayer, we were instructed, however, to survey the grounds, to keep our eyes open, to not look conspicuous. But oh, how often, did we stop and were advised to pray.
Sunshine FarmI knew beforehand that there would be work on the farm. I purposely packed a pair of ragged jeans, which were stained with paint from past home improvement projects. It was amusing that in China, a number of people inquired about my jeans—“Is this the fashion?” they asked. I shook my head, grinning sheepishly, realizing how grungy I must have looked.
The reason why our team was assigned two days of farm work was because the curriculum at the Youth Center did not allow us to teach every day that we were there. A team member therefore requested that we be assigned alternative work on those days. Consequently, the long-termers gave us an overview of how they have been ministering to the Yi people on the farm (training them on farming techniques, animal health practices, biogas, sustainable land use, etc.).
On the farm, the guys and girls on our team were separated. Off the guys went to do intense labour. Pleased, the girls were off to prune zucchini plants. Dressed in our farm hats, gloves, and rubber boots, lathered in sun block, we marched to the patch and began trimming dead and old leaves. Little did we know that this task would be more challenging than the plants we would be pruning the very next day (tomato and chili).
I must say—although the sun was merciless during those arduous hours that we spent arched over the vegetable plants, and although every now and then you would find us startled or screaming every time an insect or frog leaped unexpectedly in front of our faces—I had a good time. When we met up with the guys later on, we girls could not resist teasing them. Our arms were all scratched up by the thorns on the zucchini plants—even the wet naps stung our skin upon cleaning. We pointed our fingers at the men—satisfied and proud that we could ridicule them for having done the “lesser” work, for they did not appear to have broken a sweat, nor did they have the “battle scars” that we had.
The next day at the farm, the men returned once again, with red marks on their arms. “This time, we worked really hard,” they said, showing us, in efforts to redeem themselves. “Did you see the blood on his hands? He’s in pain.” Concern was on the girls’ faces. “You have your tetanus shots?” I asked. Until the men finally admitted that they had been painting.
"Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice." Philippians 4:4This lighthearted exchange took place throughout the entire trip. We had all agreed, God couldn’t have put together a better team—yet He had called us individually, each of us with a different story of how we wound up in China. Everyone possessed a unique gift and character that contributed greatly to the mission—not only in the constructive and edifying sense, but also in bringing good cheer. From the older ones jacking up the actual price of a taxicab to “encourage” the younger ones to walk longer distances, to excessive indulgences in lychee snacking, to mimicking walruses by sticking chopsticks under our lips while waiting for our beef noodles at the restaurant, to one particular individual dressing in a Yi costume in the opposite gender and doing so quite convincingly, to playing charades—acting out ridiculous expressions—at the airport when we discovered our flight to Chengdu had been delayed by eight hours… Laughter filled each day.
And then there were those unforeseen moments—the girls engaging in spiritual conversation while doing work on the farm; my roommate asking me to braid her hair in the morning while offering to read 2 Timothy aloud as I did so; the in-betweens, whether during a walk in the forest or a ride on the bus, when one of us would seek out the deep inner thoughts of a fellow team member. For every one of these moments, I was thankful. Those precious hours spent with brothers and sisters in Christ!
"For where two or three are gathered in my name, there am I among them." Matthew 18:20FarewellsI am not much of a crier, and even less so in public. As the week pressed on, however, I could feel the emotions surging inside me.
On the second last day, after breakfast, one of the girls on our team felt compelled to hug the students, knowing that there was very little time left. It was then we discovered that hugging was not part of their culture. They appeared startled at first. Some of them responded, others walked quickly past her in efforts to avoid her open arms.
The night before our departure, the Youth Center had planned on having a campfire. Early in the evening, it began to pour. But God was good: right before seven o’clock, which was when the program was scheduled, the sky cleared up.
Our team taught the youths line dancing from the west, including the “Chicken Dance” and “Cowgirl Twist.” Then came the not-so-easy Yi dancing—all of us held hands, surrounding the fire, stepping to the Yi music that blasted through the stereo system. Warmth and celebration filled the air. Hours passed by, all of us not ready to leave, longing to savor every lingering minute with the youths. It was clear the youths felt the same way: when the teachers turned off the lights outside and it was pitch black, many of the youths were reluctant to leave, continuing to dance, pleading us to do the Cowgirl Twist again. And so we did… and while shaking my hips in the darkness, I relished in the pleasure on the youths’ faces, marveling and delighting in their sincere gladness in a simple night of dancing among friends.
On the last day, during breakfast, we all hoped for one final, heartfelt exchange with them. I sat with some girls, slowly eating my congee, thinking of innovative ways to express my affection for them. Once again, it was not necessary. One of the girls reached in her pocket and handed me a small bill that was folded into the shape of a heart. “Xie Xie,” I said. Then came more gifts. And then came the letters that the students had written collectively the night before.
But the most touching moment was when we were loading our luggage onto the bus. The girls helped us. I walked up to one of the team members and said, “We have to hug them before we leave.” She nodded in agreement. “We’ll start there, and go around.” None of the youths resisted this time. One by one, I held them tight in my arms, saying “I’ll miss you,” in English (I made sure I taught them this phrase during my English class). Many of them who surrounded the bus were facing the ground, crying. When I finally hugged all of them, I stepped onto the bus, studying their wet faces through the window, waving at them—and then the tears within me surfaced uncontrollably. Standing inside the bus with my team, I could see that others were feeling the same way. Would we ever see these youths again?
The bus rolled forward—in less than a minute, the youths were no longer visible.
Unlike the three-hour bus ride up the mountains, the bus ride down the mountains was quiet, most of us probably mulling over what had transpired in these short ten days. In ways that we could not articulate yet, and maybe not even at present, God was transforming us from within.
During a boat ride in Xichang, I had asked a girl on our team how this trip compared to her other ones to China. She had answered, “This is the most beautiful place I’ve visited—but also the poorest.”
Perhaps this is how each of us meets God face-to-face. Only in need. Only when we have been stripped bare of all worldliness. Only when we are on our knees, completely dependent on His provision. Thereupon his beauty emerges, like a bright light out of the darkness that we have somehow managed to forget we have been living in.
“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted. Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth…” Descending the mountains, my soul cried out as the lyrics came up on my MP3 player: “Better is one day in your courts… Better is one day in your house… Better is one day in your courts… than thousands elsewhere.” How true it was for me at that very moment—that the best place, the most joyful place, the most fulfilling place for you to be is where God wants you to be.
I tried my hardest to drink in the stunning mountainous landscape before it disappeared behind me. Three hours did not seem long enough. I had turned twenty-nine the day before I left for China: I was old enough to understand the frailty of memories—how easy it is to slip back into self-centered and prideful living.
God alone is able to pull us out of it.
Final ReflectionsI must confess—up until last fall, I had no intentions of going on a mission trip. I had no problems financing others on their mission trips, but I was resolved in staying put. I had believed that my ministry was teaching—that as long as I was serving in this regard, it was sufficient. One piercing statement spoken during one of my classes in seminary made me reconsider my position. During a lecture on Samuel Pearce, the missionary, the professor had said: “
Mission is an inevitable outgrowth of walking in the Spirit.” Hearing those words in that instant, I felt convicted. I loved God, I wanted to serve Him, I wanted to grow, I wanted to know Him more—did He want me to do more than what I was doing? If I truly loved Him, what was stopping me?
Having returned from China, my former reservations now seem like trivialities:
I am a homebody.
I take comfort in familiarity and routine.
New situations and new people stress me out.
I treasure the days that I can see my husband in the morning and at night—being able to hear his voice, hold his hand, share with him.
Clean washrooms are a big deal for me. I would prefer not to squat over a hole in the ground. I value the luxury of having a strong flushing system. (This item alone is equivalent to, if not more serious a concern, than the above item.)
Mosquitoes. Flies. Cockroaches.
What I ultimately learned is that when you go on a trip like this one, you go thinking that you’ve decided to make a sacrifice; because you’ve been called, you go trusting that God wants you to give something; you go believing that your service will help the needy—but, in reality, you wind up getting more out of it than anyone else.
You come back to the place you’ve been living, feeling refreshed, renewed. You hope to God, you pray hard that you don’t go back to where you once were.
It really doesn’t matter where God calls you to: because He is sovereign, because He is the sole Provider, because He is good—you need not worry. You hear it all the time in the testimonies of missionaries—but if you really want to taste just how real your faith is, you have to go and see it for yourself. You read in the Word all the time that God is faithful—but do you know just how faithful He really is?
“Be strong and courageous. Do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go." ~ Joshua 1:9 Again and again, I look at my twenty-nine years of living, with the blessing of being born in a Christian family, and I ask myself—why have I still wasted so much time? The words of Paul in Romans 10 become all the more gripping,
“But how are they to call on him in whom they have not believed? And how are they to believe in him of whom they have never heard? And how are they to hear without someone preaching?” And then in Romans 15,
“…and thus I make it my ambition to preach the gospel, not where Christ has already been named, lest I build on someone else's foundation, but as it is written, ‘Those who have never been told of him will see, and those who have never heard will understand.” This is why, since coming back, when people ask me, “How was your trip to China?” I don’t know how to answer them. “It was amazing…” I say… but how can I capture what I felt in China and convey it to them in a few words? How can I use words to compel a fellow Christian to seriously contemplate where they are in their walk with God and elicit change? How can I make them see that I, a sinner—weak, cowardly, and insecure—paid heed to an inkling within me to go on mission, went after it even amid self-doubt, prayed hard about whether my actions were truly part of God’s plan—and ultimately witnessed God show his incredible power, love, grace and mercy?
One team member shared in an email afterward that upon coming back, he has felt more tired than when he had been away. I suspect many of us feel the same way. I, for one, have. Amidst all of my responsibilities this past year, I did not realize how stressed and pressured I was feeling—until I was in China—when I was reminded of what it felt like to be at peace—I mean, completely at peace: untense muscles, clear mind, content spirit.
“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” Matthew 11:28 God has taught me once again what I must do to find Him.
You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. The question is—how do you sustain your faith and practice it even when you are at your most comfortable?
"Is not this the fast that I choose:
to loose the bonds of wickedness,
to undo the straps of the yoke,
to let the oppressed go free,
and to break every yoke?
Is it not to share your bread with the hungry
and bring the homeless poor into your house;
when you see the naked, to cover him,
and not to hide yourself from your own flesh?
Then shall your light break forth like the dawn,
and your healing shall spring up speedily;
your righteousness shall go before you;
the glory of the Lord shall be your rear guard.
Then you shall call, and the Lord will answer;
you shall cry, and he will say, 'Here I am.'
If you take away the yoke from your midst,
the pointing of the finger, and speaking wickedness,
if you pour yourself out for the hungry
and satisfy the desire of the afflicted,
then shall your light rise in the darkness
and your gloom be as the noonday.
And the Lord will guide you continually
and satisfy your desire in scorched places
and make your bones strong;
and you shall be like a watered garden,
like a spring of water,
whose waters do not fail.
~ Isaiah 58:6-11
