Eric's Beijing Diary

Last night I was talking with the guy who owns the hotel I am staying in. He is Tibetan, and I was hoping to get the straight scoop from him regarding the "war" that is going on between two Tibetan villages over a herd of yaks. I had just come from the restaurant, where the proprietors son had said that he had to pay a ransom of 1000 RMB because he refused to take part in the battle. The owner of the hotel ridiculed this idea. He speculated that it might be something the Hui Muslims (the restaurant is run by Hui Muslims, which constitute a small minority in Langmusi) had cooked up because they wanted to do their part to support the community. I asked him if he had been to the battle. He said their was no battle, just negotiation, which he had just returned from.

You know how these things go. You can't believe everything you hear, but you kinda know that something is going on, and it is hard to tell who really has the best information. Suffice it to say that village life in western China is quite definitely tribal, and a conflict between two individuals can quite quickly become a conflict between communities.

DAY TEN

Sichuan Canyon, 8:30 am......

"Behold, I go forward, but he is not there; and backward, but I cannot perceive him: On the left hand, where he doth work, but I cannot behold him: he hideth himself on the right hand, that I cannot see him: But he knoweth the way that I take: when he hath tried me, I shall come forth as gold." (Job 23:8-10)

My last day in the canyon. Something in me just doesn't want to leave. But it's time to go home. Tomorrow I board the bus to Hezuo. The past ten days have been good. I don't know that I have a lot of answers, but the time for reflection has helped me to clarify the questions.

There is something healing about the beauty of nature. But after we have been to the mountain top, we must return to the valley. I like mountains. The other night, I climbed to the red rock rim on the Gansu side of town. But you know, I don't climb mountains to look at mountains. I climb mountains to put the valley in perspective. Perspective. A pretty priceless commodity, if it can be called a commodity. But once you have gained it, it's time to return to the valley. You know, I love this place, but it would be hard to live here. Mountains are stressful. It took two or three days to get acclimated to the altitude. Didn't seem to take quite so long last year. I think that's because last year I didn't know a soul in Gansu Province, so I went to Northwest Normal University and hung around for a couple days hoping to meet a school teacher from the countryside. That, of course, is how I met Jessica's cousin, who told me about her summer school. This year, I flew to Lanzhou, then took a bus to the village the next day, and to Hezuo the following day. So I got here to Langmusi three days after leaving Beijing. This altitude does things to you. This place is very beautiful, but you have to be careful not to exert yourself too much.

So anyway, I must return to the valley. The place for living. What does the future hold for China? I don't know. What is God's direction for me in the weeks and months ahead? I don't know. You know the feeling you have when you sense a change of direction around the corner, but you can't quite see clearly? What can be done about the enormous income disparity in this country. Tough problem. Do I have a role to play in the problem of rural education in China? Not sure how that would play out. What is my part in the work that God is doing in this country? These and many other questions remain. Sometimes questions cannot be answered in an instant. But conundrums that confront us somehow seem smaller when viewed from the heights. I remember years ago when I was teaching in a country school in North Dakota. Every morning before school, I would climb a hill behind the schoolhouse. Everybody thought I was doing it for the exercise, and I guess that was part of it. But my main purpose was perspective. As I stood on that hill every morning southeast of the city and looked to the Northwest, I would often ponder what lay beyond the horizon. I didn't know it then, but I was looking at China.

"Father, I don't know what the future holds. But I know that you hold the future. I pray that you would keep my heart sensitive to your voice. As I wonder my way through the problems and questions this life presents, help me to remember that you have the whole wide world in your hands. You who must personally approve the fall of every sparrow, will certainly not allow anything to come my way that would not work for my good. As I return to the busyness of the valley, help me to keep this fleeting, vaporous existence in perspective."