2012/12/24

Festival of Light (i.e. Not the End of the World)

Friday night (i.e. the end of the world) I decided to celebrate December 21, 2012 by attending the Festival of Light in Southorn Stadium, Wan Chai.  It was coordinated by Authentic Worship (run by Pastor Laszlo Kincs), and leaders of other local churches.  I appreciated being gathered with churches from around Hong Kong for this.

This is a pic near the end (i.e. of the event--not of the world :)  Most of my friends at the gathering were in the huge choir behind the stage.

Dancers, and artists, and singers! Oh my!

The communion bread and cups were passed out near midnight.  When I drank from the cup, a little bit spilled onto my wrist.  I couldn't help but be reminded of the communion we share with our brothers and sisters who suffer for their faith.

A little reminder to me...both of what Christ suffered in my place, and of the persecution that many still suffer.

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Fast forward to this morning, when I finally got to visit EHOP (Ebenezer House of Prayer).  Not only do I love their location in the New Territories...it's also in sight of mainland China! It really is a beautiful area (sorry I forgot to take pictures--next time!)

The first hour was worship--Mandarin and Cantonese, and a little English. It really helps that I know a lot of the songs, and a lot of the Chinese characters.


The English translation is nice, but doesn't really help pronounce the tougher Chinese characters.

The second hour was prayer for various nations, and for the persecuted Church.  The focus of our prayers was Hebrews 13:1-3.

Let brotherly love continue...Remember those who are in prison, as though in prison with them, and those who are mistreated, since you also are in the body.

This weekend has been a time of remembering the persecuted Church.  And, Christmas is a prime time for officials in some nations to crack down on underground church activity.  Here is one concrete example of how people can "remember their chains". ("Leave a Christmas Place Setting for Pastor Saeed")

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Even if the idea of "the end of the world" is bogus, we are living for another age.  Let's keep waiting patiently for that age...and loving each other in the meantime.

For we know that if the earthly tent we live in is destroyed, we have a building from God, an eternal house in heaven, not built by human hands. (2 Cor 5:1)

2012/12/22

Even more radical...

I want to share this email from a friend, whose radicality stirs me up.

Oh, how my heart remains so burdened for [country].  Lord willing and providing, I'll be back there.
My youngest daughter, Eva, said this week:  "Come on Dad!  Why don't we just sell all our junk and move [there] to smuggle Bibles?"
She gets it.
Jimmy (my 15-year-old) had a super mission trip to Guatemala.  He gets it.
The Underground Church we attended last Sunday all hugged and cried over my oldest daughter, Corrie.  They all got really attached when she spent 6 months there helping them start their Christian school.   Corrie gets it.
We plan to head back to Mississippi next month for pro-life ministry.  The one surgical abortuary left in the State is operating illegally, with protection from a federal judge.  We'll be meeting with the Governor Jan. 9, and are considering another Rescue (sit-in).   Yes, I'll be looking at 6 months in a federal penn.   My 16-year-old son, David, said, "Let's go do it, Dad."     He gets it, too.

God is doing great things all over the world...and your geographic location is not as important as where your heart is.  Don't forget: Wherever the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom to live radically!

2012/12/15

Radical

I just finished David Platt's book, Radical.  I have to admit, it was challenging.  I'm able to maintain a fairly comfortable status quo as long as I'm not confronted with the Gospel's contradiction of it.  This book, in that regard, was quite confrontational.

I won't give a review here (I'm sure you can find one at Amazon).  I'll just give an excerpt from the last couple pages.

As Elisabeth Elliot points out, not even dying a martyr's death is classified as extraordinary obedience when you are following a Savior who died on a cross.  Suddenly a martyr's death seems like normal obedience.
So what happens when radical obedience to Christ becomes the new normal?

Some missionary friends gave me this book, and told me how great it was.  Immediately afterwards, another friend saw it--someone whose life is given to spreading the Gospel and rescuing the oppressed in extraordinary ways.  His response to the book was, essentially, "Yeah, it's good!  But the title should be Average.  Or, Normal Christianity."

I'll end with this quote, which Elisabeth Elliot wrote about her husband, who was martyred by the Auca Indians he spent his life to reach:

He and the other men with whom he died were hailed as heroes, "martyrs."  I do not approve.  Nor would they have approved.
Is the distinction between living for Christ and dying for Him, after all, so great?  Is not the second the logical conclusion of the first?  Furthermore, to live for God is to die, "daily," as the apostle Paul put it.  It is to lose everything that we may gain Christ.

McDonald's in Hong Kong

I want to write a blog update, and, in looking over my recent blog posts, I think it's time for an entry that's a little more light-hearted.  Which means that I'm going to write about...McDonald's.

One of the 232 McDonald's in Hong Kong.

I think I've visited McDonald's more during the six months that I've spent in Hong Kong than in the previous six years.  Please understand.  I don't go every day, or even every week.  But, if I'm going to eat out, then I'm more likely to stop at McDonald's than at a Chinese restaurant.  Unlike in mainland China, where it's possible to buy a quick breakfast for under $1 USD, and a hearty supper for under $3 USD, Hong Kong's high food prices put McDonald's at the forefront of economic meals.

Also, I'm sad to say that Hong Kong cuisine is...really, just not healthy.  In fact, I would go so far as to say that grabbing a Big Mac may be less unhealthy than the standard fare at a given Hong Kong dai pai dong or other eatery.

So, partly due to economic necessity, and partly due to its being on the same nutritional playing field as other Hong Kong fast food, I've learned to let go of prejudices I had against McDonald's.  I can't point to one specific event, but as a whole, recent experiences have changed my attitude towards McDonald's.

Of course, the core menu still has all the artery-clogging items that have addicted people for decades.  But, the McCafe has done a lot to change their image. Not only can I eat food at McDonald's that doesn't make me feel gross afterwards; it also has cafe items that beat Starbucks' prices with a stick.  Grilled Chicken Salad for $26 HKD?  Score.  Latte and Roasted Vegetable Panini for $30 HKD?  Yes, please!  And then there's the espresso, which has been a life-saver on rough days.

Also, Hong Kong has a McDonald's approximately every two blocks (I'm not kidding).  So, even when there are better options around, there is something magnetic about McDonald's, and what McDonald's means: cheap, predictable, and fast.  You pay, you eat, you leave.  (And, unlike in the U.S., there are staff who throw away your trash for you.)

Another draw is that, even amidst Hong Kong lunch crowds (where, for lack of space, strangers commonly share the same table), there is usually a place to sit.  And, even more importantly, there's usually a restroom.

McDonald's--place of grace.

Clearly, Hong Kong has shifted my attitude towards McDonald's.  A few provisos are in order, though.

Is McDonald's good for us?
Nope. It's not. Not even the McCafe.  (But, maybe the Grilled Chicken Salad--this is the one fast food item I can order in Hong Kong that sort of makes me feel healthy.)

Would the world be better off without McDonald's?
Ummm...quite probably.

Okay, but, regardless...has McDonald's been a place where I've experienced goodness, happiness, and grace?
Why, yes! Emphatically, yes.

2012/12/11

My "Face" for Human Trafficking

I was asked to share a story related to human trafficking.  Several years ago, I witnessed a young woman in the process of being kidnapped, and was unable to do anything to help her.

It's pretty intense, but I don't want her story to be forgotten.  Please leave a comment (or email me) if you want to share info about how human trafficking is being dealt with in your city.

These are the notes from the talk I prepared.

(Taken from www.tipshelp.com)

I think everyone has their own story about why they’re involved in this work.  Perhaps it’s a personal encounter with a trafficking victim, or a heart-rending story or documentary, or the terrifying statistics.  I was asked to share my story, as a reminder of why we’re doing this.

I’ve read the stories, and seen the data, and been to some talks about trafficking that goes on in different countries.  And you gasp, and you put your name down for the email list.  (And that’s important.  Public education and awareness is crucial in this effort.)  But what do you do?

What if trafficking hits close to home?  Maybe that will make a difference in how we respond.  But, maybe not.

In August, I moved to Sheung Shui, in the New Territories.  There are very few foreigners there—just Hong Kong residents and Chinese tourists. But occasionally, I see a very beautiful mainland Chinese or Korean or other Asian girl, who looks out of place here.  Some friends came by my place recently, and told me that my particular neighborhood is basically the center of prostitution for the New Territories area of Hong Kong.

I was shocked, and I honestly have felt a burden about this.  But, I don't see them on the street corners.  And I'm not interested in walking up into the places where they work.  So, even though it has hit close to home--it's on my street!--this isn't compelling enough for me to care enough to change things.  Because, I know that these places operate under legal loopholes.  And even when they do break the law, the local police refuse to acknowledge the problem.  Again...what do you do?

Something else had to happen to make this real for me.  Real enough to really care.  More than another story, I want to share with you my face for human trafficking.




(Taken from www.releaseglobal.org)

In 2005-06, I was living in Wenzhou, China, teaching English.  I lived there for nearly a year, and had a pretty positive experience of the area.  I felt safe, and sensed no danger walking anywhere, day or night.  Honestly, it's a rather nice, peaceful place.

Early in the spring of 2006, on a day off from work, I was going across the river to go downtown (I think to go to McDonald’s.)  I went to the ferry dock, paid for my ticket, and got on the speedboat ferry.

As I got in the boat, I heard yelling behind me.  A young woman, early to mid-twenties, was with two men.  They were half dragging, half carrying her to the speedboat.  She was yelling, and fighting, and trying to get away.  And everybody in the ferry and outside the ferry heard and saw everything that was happening.  And shortly after they walked onto the ferry, right beside me (the girl still fighting and screaming), the ferry took off.  I didn’t know enough Chinese to try to intervene or ask someone what was going on.  And the ferry crew members didn’t do anything.  I think they just told us to get off the deck and go inside and sit down.

I sat in the seat right in front of the two men.  This girl was still yelling, and being treated roughly by the men.  Nobody else was looking at them.  And I sat there, totally at a loss what to do. At this point, I still knew almost no Chinese.  So, I just stared at them, and asked (with one of the few Chinese phrases I knew), “你们在干什么?” (“What are you doing?!”) One man had his arm around her, with his hand over her mouth, and said that he was her boyfriend.  And I looked at the people sitting around me, and just said, “喂?你们好!喂? Hey! Hello?! Please look here!”. I knew nobody wanted to help, and that what I was doing was annoying, and possibly dangerous. But I was desperate to point people's attention to the situation right behind their backs.  I figured that eventually, if I kept urging people to do something, somebody would have to do something. Right?

Nobody did anything.  Or said anything.  Or even looked.

Finally, while I was just sitting there, outraged at everyone's silence, the girl looked at me in the eyes.  Her face was less than two feet from mine, as she said, very loudly: “Help me! Call the police!!”

I tried to keep my cool, and took out my phone.  The kidnappers saw me dial “119”, which I thought was the generic emergency number.  In China, 119 is for the fire department.  The two men just laughed.  And the girl looked…I can’t describe it.  Nobody else cared enough to do anything.  And the one person who did care was ignorant about how to help.

We were in the boat for a full five minutes before arriving at the other side of the river.  As soon as we docked, the “boyfriend” pulled the girl out, and other passengers exited, while the stronger man stayed back, physically blocking me to keep me inside the boat.  He reached into his pocket, and it looked like he had some weapon.  Maybe it was a bluff, but maybe it was a gun or an electric prod.  There was no way to know.

I didn’t fight them.  And I didn’t see any police, or anybody else to ask for help.  But everybody saw the “boyfriend” carrying the screaming girl over his shoulder, as he walked through the crowd—all the way to the main street.  He hailed a taxi.  He put her into the taxi.  He waited for his accomplice to get in.  And the frightened cab driver drove away.

And I tried to figure out how to contact the police.  But, I didn’t see the taxi’s license plate number.  And, I thought that it was probably too late to do anything.  And that, they probably wouldn’t care, either.

Of course, I couldn’t do anything else that afternoon.  I just went back home, totally broken, and I wept.  And I re-played the scenario in my mind so many times…what could I have done differently, to make a difference, to stop these men from kidnapping this girl?  Should I have fought them? And why did no one do anything?  And I thought about why she was kidnapped…was she being trafficked as a mail-order bride, or a prostitute?  Would they maim her and turn her into a beggar?

And, I couldn’t get her face out of my memory.  Her big, horrified eyes, just 18 inches away, and her loud pleading: “Help me! Call the police!!”

(taken from a Public Service Announcement in Mexico and Central America, warning people of trafficking)


I don’t know why this happened to her. I know that it should not have happened.  And I can only hope and pray that she will be rescued, and that because of the loss she experienced, many others will be rescued.  And I know I don’t want to miss another opportunity to save innocent victims, just because I’m uninformed or unprepared.

So, if I ever need to remind myself why I’m engaging in the fight against human trafficking, for me, it’s easy.  I just remember her face, right in front of mine: her eyes, her pleading, and her screams.

As you engage in the fight against human trafficking, amidst all the legal research and discussion, don’t lose sight of the “face” of the people we want to rescue.

2012/12/03

Blessing Bus Drivers



So, I woke up Saturday morning, and had to hurry to go meet some friends (a father and son), who needed help moving boxes.  I walked to the bus stop outside my apartment, and realized that I'd forgotten a key I needed.  So, I ran back, and got back to my bus just as it was pulling away.  I was desperate to get on this bus, because it comes only every half hour, and I couldn't be late. And the idea of paying $4 (USD) for a 10-minute taxi was unthinkable.

Here's what happened.  I walked up to the bus door, and asked the driver (through the closed door) to let me on.  He shooed me away.  I asked repeatedly, and desperately.  This went on for 30 seconds, until I was begging. On my knees.  (Okay, maybe I should have left that last part out. But like I said, I was desperate at the moment).

There was traffic in front of him, so he couldn't move forward.  But he still wouldn't let me on.  And he tried to look professional.  But in the end, he just laughed. A lot.

And he drove off, without me.

I finally stood up, dumbfounded that my desperate puppy-dog face hadn't moved the heart of the bus driver.  I went across the street and got a taxi (praise God he understood what I said in Cantonese, because not even I understood what I'd said in Cantonese).  I arrived at the place, met up with my friends earlier than planned, and went with them to their apartment.

And as soon as I arrived at their place, there was an old friend, whom I hadn't seen in 3 years.  I was ecstatic!  He is only in Hong Kong for a few days, and he's quite busy with work, but we got to catch up for a bit before he left for a business trip to Shenzhen.

And if I'd taken the bus, I don't know if I would have caught up with my friend (which was an incredibly encouraging encounter).

God bless bus drivers...all of them!