to you

"During the Great Proletariat Cultural Revolution (1966-76, implemented by Mao Zedong), all traditional religious were destroyed, and many Chinese became atheist. A requirement of joining the Chinese Communist Party is that members cannot be religious."

I'm studying for my Polsci 339 class "China's Evolution Under Communism" exam, and this makes me really sad. This reminds me of home--Shanghai, China. I grew up there under the care of my maternal grandparents. My grandpa used to be in a variety of local government positions and still proudly speaks at the occasional event; I see his pictures in the newspaper every time I visit. He rides his bike every morning to go out with his friends and comes home bringing random snacks for me and my cousin, who stays at my grandparents' during the summer. He really knows how to lead a family, how to speak for his people, how to discipline and how to give.

One thing I always remember about visiting is that my grandpa really likes to wear this blue dress shirt of his with a CCP badge hanging from it. He and my grandma are really proud to be part of the CCP. And my cousin, who is two years younger than me, was an aspiring youth member the last time I talked to her. You can see the love they have for their country and for the party, because it floods out of their enthusiasm with everything party-related they do. While I'm no socialist myself, I grew up under my grandparents' wings, and they have remained my biggest role models. Their love means truckloads to me. Their support is the greatest.

"A requirement of joining the Chinese Communist Party is that members cannot be religious."
"The CCP is the world's largest political party, with 80 million members."

But how can I minister to them? How can anyone minister to any of them?

God, I want to see your heart. All the room you made for your lost people. I want to see it filled.



We speak to nations, be open
We speak to nations, fall on your knees
We speak to nations, the kingdom is coming near to you.

pulse (1)

It was absolutely picture-perfect. The sun in her face was a blinding white that visibly allowed only the toothy smile on her face. It was a remarkably unoriginal effect, that undeniable smile hovering above a light summer dress. She was running slowly too--towards him, for the last time--the pollen floating in the air around her like dancing butterflies. It was all very romantic and sweet, with a backdrop of pretty classical music. Then the camera zoomed in, and that's when you could see, clear as day, the cuts on her arm.

Hannie stood up abruptly. The folding chair she had been sitting on squeaked loudly against the unpolished wood, and everyone looked up nervously in their seats. She ignored them all and swept her gaze across the small auditorium before allowing it to fall on her sister Georgie. Georgie didn't even move, pretending to brush something off her blouse. Hannie gave her the finger and stalked out of the room.

"Hey..hey! HEY!" someone called after her as she flung the bangs out of her face, trying to walk as elegantly as possible. "Come back here! Hey! What the f_ was that?!"
Hannie ignored him and flung the double doors open. The momentum seemed unstoppable. Before she knew it though, the sound of quick footsteps behind her melted into a grabbing of her shoulder, and she was nearly flung backwards.
"HEY!" she hollered back, turning to give the boy a death stare. He was almost a foot taller, however, and she ended up glaring at his collarbone. "Who the hell are you?" she said to it.
"You spoiled the scene!" he huffed at her, cupping her chin and bringing her face up towards his.
She slapped his hand away. "So what? That was a stupid scene. Not to mention an altogether stupid film."
"I'm the freaking writer! I demand an apology!"
Well, you're not getting it, Hannie wanted to say, knowing fully well how cliched this response was, gathered from the many movies and books she had poured over up to that moment. But her face was getting too hot, her vision blurring. She suddenly felt embarrassed. Students were passing by them, whispering and laughing. She didn't realize she had made such a scene.
"Bye," she said instead, quickly pushing the boy away and hightailing it to the nearest women's bathroom. It was only a few yards away, thank goodness. She pushed open the door, briskly glancing back with a fluttering heart, only to find that he had not followed.

She peered into the bathroom mirror. Her cheeks were indeed slightly rosy, and the mascara of one eye was smeared. She grabbed at her side, only to remember that she had forgotten to take her purse out of the auditorium with her.
"Idiot," she whispered to herself and reached into her pocket to pull out a small, pentagon-shaped white tablet. Cupping her hands for water from the sink, she swallowed it and sat on the floor, waiting until the world once again succumbed to peace.

* * *

before i leave

Just once I'd like to know you, with my head and not my heart.

Just once I'd like to hear you say that you are so much more than just this.

Because I don't want to walk away thinking, once again, every time the same thought, "This is all there was to it. This is all there ever will be."

the tank man

This well-known incident always comes up in my comparative politics classes: .

Of all my time learning about China and the 1989 Tiananmen Square massacre in middle and high school, our teachers never showed this. I wonder if it’s because this man’s actions were too radical for our young minds. I remember the first time I saw this only last year, I thought it was some crazy old man, and his family running to drag him away before he started doing crazier things. Later, I found out it was a university student. My age.

Talking publicly about the massacre is banned in China. When reporters try to get Chinese residents’ opinions about it, they immediately shake their heads and walk away out of fear. After all, a large protest for democracy is not the coolest thing to do in a repressive, conservative socialist government.

So as the government sent tanks loaded up with ammunition and scary violent equipment to take out these thousands of protestors, the majority being university students, I could never imagine that someone would take this kind of action. To walk out right in front of a loaded army tank and yell and wave your arms around and even climb on top of it…what the heck? Oh my gosh! I would die! This is the most courageous action I’ve ever seen, and to this day, no one has figured out who this guy even is. He must have really been possessed by something powerful. The men in that tank must have been equally bold not to have shot him.

To me, this is the most inspiring kind of human sacrifice. Not sacrificing consciously, so that you can publish your feats in a book later or tell them in a testimony. But courage as a crazy anonymous person, totally on fire for something greater than yourself.

self-righteous

When I was younger, I remember thinking I was always justified when I got bitter at other people. My moods have fluctuated like crazy ever since the depression I suffered years ago but I never blamed myself for them because I told myself I was right anyway. Everyone else was of fault, less good and less understanding.

Matthew 7:3-5
"Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye? How can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when all the time there is a plank in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother’s eye."

I love this passage, and for some reason, this is one of those that more often pops into my head and won't get out. That's how ridiculously self-righteous I am, that God has to remind me of those three verses constantly.

Jessica (my spiritual momma!) probed me today about my decision-making. Why do you always decide based on your emotions? Why do you always let your mood get in the way of obeying God? Don't just dismiss upsetting things as bad things. Lifting burdens from your heart doesn't equate to tossing them away. It means bringing those burdens to God.

She must have talked for about thirty minutes straight. Which breaks her twenty-minute record from fall semester that happened to have taken place at the very same restaurant.
"If only your prayers were that long," I joked after she had finished, and she laughed.
But honestly, I have no doubt her prayers are even longer. And secretly, I wish I could talk that passionately about seeking God, and I wish my prayers were even half as long.

Selfishness is something that I'll never be able to climb out of completely. "Consider the movie of life...From start to finish, this movie is obviously about God. He is the main character," Francis Chan wrote in Crazy Love. I think of it like, what good is it to be cast as an extra in a movie and instead of doing what you're told, you run around rebelling and complaining about the environment, the props, and your fellow extras? In the end, the director will just yell "cut!" and throw you out of his movie. Even though God loves you enough to give you second (and third and fourth) chances, Jessica pointed out: "why would you take advantage of His love (and keep rebelling)?"

But with this in mind, I know I still suck at playing even such a minute role in that movie of life. God, please discipline me in Your love!


(P.S.)


"But the goodness is something you don't have to chase 'cause it's following you."