The best news in the world

Today, when I woke up, it felt like any other day. The alarm clock blared, the baby fussed, Cameron jumped into bed stealing my covers, and my bladder insisted I get out of bed or else...Just another normal day.

Until, I sat down to check my morning email. I gasped. There was an email from Bob.

I've not written much about my trip to the Far East. I suppose, I didn't know where to start. There were so many memories, details, lessons learned, emotions. But, with the arrival of Bob's email and the precious news contained within it, I guess it's time.

After 30 hours of mind-numbing travel, we had finally arrived at our destination--an airport of sorts on the outskirts of one of China's greatest industrial cities. Our mission was subtle. Make friends, build relationships, and then, share the gospel. I was a bit leary at first. How do you just drop into a country, that speaks a language of which I nor my teammates knew nothing, and buddy up? It was actually much easier than I would have ever imagined. We had two things working for us--we were American and we spoke English. Everybody, it turns out, in this buzzing city of dark-haired humanity, wants to know more about life in America and how to correctly pronounce their "v's".

Within two days of simply standing in the stairwells of the 30,000-student University and a few nerve-racking speaking engangements in packed-out classrooms, we had friends aplenty. People wanted us to name them American names. I exhausted all my favorite names and had to revert to doling out the names of aunts, uncles, and grandparents. Some asked us to name their siblings too. Some who had chosen odd names like Tree and WalMart we felt obligated to rename. As the days slipped by, a few friends began to nuzzle their way into our hearts. We spent hours half speaking, half signing with them in the parks, all of which reminded me of Gorky Park, in the amazing restaurants where eight people could eat well for $18, on the steps of their ancient temples, and in the streets as we walked from shop to shop.

At the end of the day, Kristie and I would retire to our efficient, little hotel rooms to wipe away the sand swept into our nostrils and ears by the ever-approaching Gobi desert. We would talk like school girls about the people we had met and how God was working in this person or that person. We were amazed by the "openess" and "eagerness" of those we encountered and we hoped that they would have ears to hear and that the Spirt of God would shape our words into arrows that pierced through the language barrier and into hearts. Everyday we awoke to a new adventure and the annoying clanging of the local junk collector beating on a garbage can lid.

There is so much more to tell. But, I better bring things back to Bob or I'll never quit. I met Bob about four days before we were scheduled to leave. His friend, a medical student, introduced us in the massive three-level cafeteria at the University. Over fried bean curd, we talked about America and my boys. Of his family and his grueling studies which only allowed for a few hours of sleep each night. He was from the south, near Shanghai. He asked my why I had come all the way from America to such a far-flung city. I told him I had brought good news with me, of a Kingdom without end, and a Savior who loved him so much He died for him. He responded that this Jesus of which I spoke was not for Easterners, only Westerners. I assured him nothing was further from the truth and reminded him that Jesus was born in Bethleham, in the Middle East, or better said--the middle of the world, where east and west meet. This made him exceedingly happy as did the entire gospel.

From that point on, we spent as much time together as his studies would allow. I came to see him as my little brother. Like so many in China, he was an only child. A sister is something he had always longed for and I was glad to step in, even if it was just temporary. As the days passed, he began to share more of his personal life. On our last day together, he shyly leaned across the table and whispered in my ear, "Did you know I like boys?" Yes, I knew but my heart sank all the same. I was glad he felt who could share his darkest struggle with me. But, I knew this would be a great stumbling block for him. The words of Jesus flashed through my mind, "If anyone wishes to come after Me, he must deny himself, take up his cross daily and follow Me." Would he be willing to crucify that sin, his most beloved on the cross? Or would he be like the rich young ruler and go away from the Source of Life grieving because the cost was just too high to count?

Our last day pounced on me like a lion. Where had ten days gone? How could I possibly leave this place and the people I had come to love? What would happen to Bob? We spent our final day picnicing with a legion of friends--30 or more. As we walked to our destination, another Gorky Park, we picked up food from the outdoor markets that lined the streets. In keeping with Chinese tradition we would buy enough to share and in that way, have a potluck of sorts once we got there. Some brought their insturments. They wanted to sing Christmas songs and Aaron, a North Korean, began to play Oh Susanna on his clarinet. It was all very sureal and I almost started crying right then and there. "Oh Sussana, don't you cry for me, I come from Alabama with a banjo on my knee." How did this boy, who grew up under the iron gaze of Communism learn Oh Susanna or Silent Night, for that matter? We sang along and then, slowly dispersed, exchanging hugs, emails, and promises to keep in touch. But a few special ones remained. Those who had been with us from the beginning. Saying good-bye to them would be much harder. They wanted to see us off at the train station, but our host family said it would only make it harder.

Already, I was a ship wreck and I still hadn't said my good-byes to Bob, who had to be in class during our going-away picnic. We would eat one last dinner together. Our waitress insisted that we hadn't ordered enough vegetables and wouldn't turn our order into the chef until we did. But even that, didn't make me laugh. I don't remember much about what was said that night. Instead I was keenly aware that time was slipping by and that I may never see my precious friends again. What would happen to Bob when I was gone. Would he keep reading the Chinese Bible I gave him, would he go to church like I told him to? Or would he be one of those seeds Jesus spoke of, choked away by the cares and riches of the world or burned by the scorching sun?

I cried big, wet, snot-inducing tears as we drove away. Kristie assured me, "Bob is in good hands." I wasn't ready to let go, but really I didn't have much of a choice. After-all, I did have a family at home who I loved dearly and needed me. And besides, Kristie was right. The Chinese church survived beautifully during the Cultural Revolution, without a single outsider. God didn't need me. He could have reached Bob in a million different ways, but He loved me so much that He allowed me to be part of His plan. I was, for a moment, his sacred vessel through which He poured out life-giving water to a thirsty soul.

Read on just a few more moments to see where we are in the story. I'd say it has a happy ending, but it's not an ending at all. It's really just the beginning...



Hi Sarah:
I’m with great happiness to write to you here--Harbin of China and I hope you can read this overdue letter. I have been longing for hearing from you, yet I didn’t try to connect with you about which I feel ashamed and I wish that it can offset our long time isolation.
It happened just like yesterday that we met in a party-like forum and become ocean spanning friends. What impressed me profoundly is not only your kindness face and warm heart but also your sayings about our great Father and the precious Holy Bible which you give me. It is you, Sarah, who grow the field in my heart with the great seed of God’s life. I really appreciate that a lot.
A great piece of news which I can’t wait to tell you is that I believe in God at last. In fact, I accept God as my Father in the end of last year when two very nice aunty send me the gospel and make me touched.
Things taken place afterward are plentiful and wonderful. I take part in meetings regularly with a great many siblings, all of whom are God’s offspring. Communication is momentous and I have been experiencing a lot in Father’s family. I began to introduce our Father to others who are still living in Satan’s world. Reading the Book of Books makes my holy life stronger and I believe that it sure will be strong enough to overcome Satan and live in God’s kingdom at last.
Sarah, I miss you and your lovely boys very much. Praying for all your families every single second and looking forward to your writing back soon!

P.S A few of my recent pictures and more later. Bob