Eric's Beijing Diary

8:35 am

Bus to Hezuo. Left Langmusi this morning at 6:30 in a heavy morning fog. The sun has burned off the fog, now, and we are able to make a little time.

"Good-bye," said Florence, the friendly Hakka, as she boarded the bus the other day. "See you somewhere in the world!"

Somewhere in the world. Yes, that's about it. Where do the folks you meet in Western China come from? Somewhere in the world. Where are they headed? Somewhere in the world. Why? Let's not get complicated.

Now it's my turn to leave. So, I bid farewell the canyon, the beautiful grassland, the red rock rim, Leisha's home cooking, and the housekeepers at the dormitory who always patted my stomach and asked for a piece of my watermelon.

Every life needs time for repose. Time to reflect. Time to think. Time to ponder. Why am I here? What is the meaning of life? And why do flowers bloom? And time to pray. The reason I pray is simple. I am a believer. I do not believe the world we see around us is a meaningless accident. If you are really paying attention, you will see purpose all around you. But how do we come to understand this purpose? And why do I even ask these questions, when so many people seem not to care about such things. That, I suppose is a bit strong. They may seem not to care, but hidden in every heart is a question about where we came from, and why we are here. After all, Langmusi has two very prominent lamaseries, and a Muslim mosque. Obviously, someone besides myself has asked these questions.

"Who hath ascended up into heaven, or descended? who hath gathered the wind in his fists? who hath bound the waters in a garment? who hath established all the ends of the earth? what is his name, and what is his son's name, if thou canst tell?" (Proverbs 30:4)

Actually, everybody asks those questions. Well, almost everybody. Dog's don't. That's because animals are not created in the image of God. The noted evolutionist, Richard Leakey (son of Louis and Mary Leakey) said it this way:
The termites are capable of constructing intricately structured mounds which create their own "air-conditioned" environment inside. But the termites cannot choose to build a cathedral instead. "
Well put. Humans are different. They ask questions about stuff that animals don't care about. And if some humans seem not to care about them, it is only because they have somehow pushed those thoughts out of their minds. But somewhere, deep in the heart of every man is the question, "What is His Name, and the Name of His Son?"

Tibetan Buddhism depresses me. I guess it's because it seems so futile. I see the faithful prostrating themselves seemingly endless numbers of times, and I find myself wanting to say, "No! God is not like that! He is more willing to listen than you are to speak!" Buddhists try hard. But Buddhism simply does not have the answers to the deepest questions of life. The other night, a young monk came to my bed in the dormitory and insisted that I change the direction I was sleeping. His bed was end to end with my bed, and the head of his bead touched the foot of mine. I showed him that there was no way my feet could touch his head (because of the bedstead), but he was adamant. He said I was showing disrespect for the Buddha by having feet so near the head of a holy man. I had no concern for Buddha's honor, but I didn't want to create a needless offense, so I complied. I don't know...maybe I'm too negative. The Koreans didn't argue with him. They bought him a birthday cake. Amazing people, those Koreans. "Hi! We're church people from Korea, and we have come to share God's love!" Can you imagine? Door-to-door evangelism in an American suburb, where everyone is at least sorta familiar with church is one thing. But in a Tibetan village with two monasteries and a mosque? Gutsy if you ask me. But over and over the people of the community thanked them for bring this news.

This brings me to the most puzzling question of all. What sovereign mercy has dictated that I should be chosen to live in the light of a hope so unknown by most of the world? Why? As many times as I have pondered that question, one would think I should be at least a little bit closer to an answer. But it escapes me. There are some things we just will not know this side of the veil.

One radiant morn the mists will all surrender,
And life's uncertain shadows pass away;
When light celestial breaks in dazzling splendor
To lead my step into eternal day.

One radiant morn the mysteries I ponder,
But leave unsolved on all my quests abroad,
Shall be construed for me in fullness yonder
When I awake to sense the ways of God.

One radiant morn, when hearts bowed down in sorrow
Are comforted and reconciled above,
All pain and tears I here in anguish borrow
Shall be dissolved in fountain-rays of love.

One radiant morn, with eyes unveiled before Him,
I'll see the One my faith and hope embrace;
Within the holy realms I'll praise, adore Him,
And kneel to thank my Savior face to face.

One radiant morn, when sinless souls assemble
Where each desire is born in purity,
No more the thought of wrong shall make me tremble,
But, ransomed, I shall life forever free.

One radiant morn, in halls of home supernal,
I'll meet again the friend I here esteem,
In glory speak with him of life eternal,
And of the life that vanished like a dream.

O Jesus, stir within my heart of sadness
This vision fair when e'er I grieve forlorn,
That it may turn all bitter tears to gladness,
And lead my spirit to that radiant morn.