Qingdao--Beijing Express. It was three weeks ago yesterday that I left Beijing on my way to Lanzhou. It has been a very eventful three weeks. One of the things I most wanted from this experience was to know experientially what God can and will do when we put our lives in his hands. Abraham tried it, and he discovered the blessing of God in far greater measure than he ever could have imagined.
I set out this summer not knowing where I was going, except that Gansu Province was somehow in my mind. I think the reason for that is that, when you live in China, Gansu Province is so often mentioned as a place where people are poor, and education is deficient. So, given my interest in rural education, I think Gansu Province was a logical choice. But that's what I think. Who can know the mind of God?
It's called "vision." A sense that one is supposed to move in a certain direction combined with a picture of what one expects to see develop as a result of that movement. I have, for many years, been obsessed with this question.
"Daddy, why do we need 'bishion?'" This is the question my daughter (Juliana) asked me when she was about 4 or 5 years old. She had obviously heard me praying for it many times, and wanted to know what the big deal was. So what is the big deal? Why do we need vision? I think the first reason is that we cannot see by ourselves. Bob Pierce, the man of faith who founded both World Vision and Samaritan's Purse, always said that you should never take on something that you can do without the help of God. If we would be used by God for something that will have eternal value, we must be willing to walk by faith. Without faith it is impossible to please God (Hebrews 11:6). And if we walk by faith, we must have vision--the ability to see things by faith that others cannot see. To call things that are not as though they were (Romans 4:17).
This year, it seemed that I was a bit slow in getting a vision for what I was going to do this summer. I think it is partly because of a plan (which never came about) to have a family reunion in Japan. I had kinda put everything on hold just in case that actually came about. When it became clear to me that the reunion was not going to happen, I began to think and pray about where I should go this summer. Gansu Province immediately came to my mind, for the reason that I mentioned earlier, and perhaps also because it is on the old Silk Road. About Christmas time, I was talking to Abe, and he told me I should go to Yunnan Province, so I started to think along those lines. But I mentioned this to Jean one time, and she said, "Eric, you can't listen to everyone else. You need to do what God tells you to do." I knew she was right. Because of my sensitivity to the great need, I was very sensitive to suggestions. But I was being too open minded. I really needed to pull back and hear from God. Sounds grandiose. Hear from God? But if I am a Christian, I must dare to believe that God does lead us when we ask Him.
I seriously considered making a permanent move to the countryside. At the present time, it doesn't seem to be the way God is leading me, mainly because I really have a desire to see Chinese Christians from cities like Beijing become involved in helping the poor people in the western part of China. If I go myself, I must give up that part of my vision. So many NGO's that have worked in China, have been non-profits from the West, bringing western money from Britain or America and using it to pursue an agenda developed by outsiders. I don't want to do that. I would much rather see the development of a Chinese non-profit funded and operated entirely within China by Chinese Christians. But the picture just isn't clear yet. It is still a bit fuzzy. Lots and lots of unanswered questions.
Reading a brief essay by F. B. Meyer in Streams in the Desert, a gift from my friends at Blessed Hope:
"When you are unsure which course to take, totally submit your own judgment to that of the Spirit of God, asking Him to shut every door except the right one. But meanwhile keep moving ahead and consider the absence of a direct indication from God to be the evidence of His will that you are on His path. And as you continue down the long road, you will find that He has gone before you, locking doors you otherwise would have been inclined to enter. Yet you can be sure that somewhere beyond the locked doors is one He has left unlocked. And when you open it and walk through, you will find yourself face to face with a turn in the river of opportunity--one that is broader and deeper than anything you ever dared to imagine, even in your wildest dreams. So set sail on it, because it flows to the open sea."
This is very interesting to me, because it does parallel my own experience relative to coming to China. It's strange, but I am fifty years old, now, and I still know very little about how to find the will of God. But I can point to specific times in my life when I was absolutely sure what I was supposed to do. The fall of 2000 is one if them. That is when I made the decision to go to China. Exactly how I came to that decision is hard to pin down. And I can't tell you a specific date when the decision was made. But somehow, during that period, there was a point where I made a definite decision to give up my life in America and go to China. I know the decision followed a process. But it's very hard for me to describe that process. But somehow, after the fall of 2000, I never had the slightest question about what I was supposed to do. I did not have a job lined up in China. I had no idea just how I was supposed to go to China. But I knew that I knew that I knew that this was what I was supposed to do, and I never questioned that for the smallest fraction of a second. During the months that followed that decision, God spoke to me through Revelation 3 verse 8:
"I have set before you an open door, and no man can shut it."
God spoke to me very clearly that I should not waste time pounding down closed doors, but look for the one that was open. In the past, I have not always employed this approach. For example, when I determined that I wanted to work at the University where I taught before I came to China, I put together a resume, submitted it, and then kept pestering them until they gave me an interview. But when it came to my move to China, God seemed to be guiding me toward a very different approach. I moved very slowly, always trying not to pursue an option once it was clear that the door was not open. I tried several doors which I would have walked through if they had opened. But they didn't. This is why I was struck this morning by F.B. Meyer's words. Again, one must not build a doctrine of how to be led by God, based on ones own subjective experience, but I can say with absolute conviction that God does lead. He has led me. So where do I go from here? I don't know. I will just wait, and keep looking for the next open door. I know it's there, I just can't see it right now.
It's hard to describe the scene last night as we docked at Badong just after the sun had slipped behind the mountains. Rich green vegetation along one side of the river. The city of Badong built into the hillside on the far bank. A large cable-stayed suspension bridge spanning the gorge. Pale blue mountain peaks waiting around the bend and a wispy, communion wafer moon pasted on a perfectly cloudless sky.
Reading again from John Wesley Powell after Captain Howland had decided to leave the party. He first tried to persuade Powell to abandon the mission. Powell spent the entire night pacing back and forth, but decided he must go on:
"The last thing before leaving, I write a letter to my wife, and give it to Howland. Sumner gives him his watch, directing that it be sent to his sister, should he not be heard from again. The records of the expedition have been kept in duplicate. One set of these is given to Howland, and now we are ready. For the last time, they entreat us not to go on, and tell us that it is madness to set out in this place; that we can never get safely through it; and further, that the river turns again to the south into the granite, and a few miles of such rapids and falls will exhaust our entire stock of rations, and then it will be too late to climb out. Some tears are shed; it is rather a solemn parting; each party thinks the other is taking the dangerous course."
What can you say about those who do not share your vision? Perhaps they have a different destiny. Perhaps? Obviously. At first glance, we might be inclined to say that Captain Howland had lost his vision. But the truth is that he never really had a vision for this mission. He was living on borrowed vision. While the challenges appeared manageable, he was able to keep going. But when it really started to look dangerous, and there was not a clear picture of how things were going to turn out, he lost heart. Perhaps Powell himself was partly to blame. A big part of leadership is the ability to encourage those who have consented to follow you, not because of their vision, or their confidence in their own ability, but because of their confidence in you as a leader. Perhaps Powell had let his own doubts show a little too much. I don't know. It's hard to say. In the end, it doesn't matter, I suppose, because no vision or purpose or goal that is of any value can ever be reached unless and until you are ready to pursue it alone if need be. Captain Howland's decision to leave the party was significant. But Powell's decision to go on without him was far more significant, and history is much the better for it.
We got off the ship this morning and headed up a tributary of the Yangtze. I really cannot do justice to the grandeur of this gorge, and the beautiful scenery along the tributary. One of the most interesting sights along this tributary was the presence of several hanging coffins high on the cliff above the water. These coffins are positioned on small platforms, or planks in small indentations in the cliff. It is mind boggling to contemplate how in the world they could have been placed there without the aid of a helicopter. The only thing I can figure is that they were lowered by ropes from above. One wonders how many people lost their lives trying to give another person a burial a little closer to heaven. I don't have a telephoto lens on my little pocket camera, so I didn't bother taking a picture. You will just have to take the cruise yourself and have a look. It's really weird. Nothing impressed me more than the futility of trying to improve a person's chances of going to heaven by taking such extraordinary risks.
After moving up the tributary on a ferry, we boarded some sampans and were towed up a small stream by some Tujia trackers. There was a guide for each sampan. Fortunately, Katie, the guide who was assigned to my sampan, was a native of one of the communities along the bank. As we headed upstream, she pointed out the community where she was born, and the house she grew up in, and where her parents still live. We were pulled upstream for awhile, then turned around and shot the rapids down the stream, got back on the ferry, and headed down the tributary, past the hanging coffins and monkeys scampering along the bank, toward the mighty Yangtze, where our ship was waiting.
