The Heavenly Man

Today I'm going to wander away from my habit of telling stories about Dutch life and my life. Instead I'm actually going to write about something I've been thinking about often lately. If you don 't want to read normal thoughts, nobody is making you and you're free to quit now.

I've been reading a book called "The Heavenly Man; the remarkable true story of Chinese Christian Brother Yun." This book lays out in detail the way life as a Christian in China is. It's remarkable. In this book you are confronted with tortures, beatings, mental and physical abuse, prison, starvation, thirst, forced labor, and so much more, all experienced by a man because he's a Christian.

As I read this man's story I can't help but see the flaws in my own life, and mostly, the flaws in my own heart. So many of the things that I am used to were a scarcity in his life...reading material, contact with family, even things as normal as food and clothing. His kids walked around for years with holes in their shoes because they were Christians. His kids weren't allowed to go to school and were insulted because their father was an "anti-government criminal, a social disturbance."

I was saved when I was four years old. I went to church my whole life, but I didn't accept Jesus as the Savior of my sins until I was four. When I was five I decided that I wanted to be a missionary. You know how parents or adults are always asking kids in that silly, baby-ish voice, "...and what do you want to be when you grow up?" My answer was always missionary, even through-out my teenage years (even when I wasn't sure if I wanted to stick out like that amongst my peers). I went to Bible school and graduated in 2004. I graduated with a Missions major.

Over the last year or two I've had my most difficult times when it came to "being a missionary". My romanticized outlook on missions wore off the more that I read about it and the more that I learned about it. The older I got (granted, I'm not at all old!) the more I wanted to just one day settle down, get married, have a few kids, and have a "normal" life. Of course, over the last 12 months that desire has changed greatly. The more I think about living that "normal" life the more it scares me. I know that if I lived such a life that I'd find no satisfaction in it, even if I was working full-time in a church (I'm also not so sure on the 'few kids' idea...at least, not for a VERY long time...*chuckle*).

And so I find that I'm stuck. Living the life as a missionary...wow! That'd be the dream come true. But how does that dream come about? Hmmm...yet another frustrating point of view. Back in the old days they would just buy a boat ticket, get on, try to survive for the many months on the boat, and then live their days in the foreign land doing God's work. Somehow, in today's society with all of those ridiculous organizations and passports and visas and politics and credentials and qualifications it just seems as if it must be impossible!!

There's also one other small problem. I'd have to give up my greatest household desire if I ended up on the mission field. What is it? Bookshelves. I so greatly want to have a room that has wall-to-wall and floor-to-ceiling book shelves that are entirely filled with books!! I've wanted that for so long! My favorite houses ever have been the houses that have had bookshelves and a piano. Of course, I'd rather give up my greatest household desire than my biggest dream. And that biggest dream has always been being a missionary.

Honestly, there's only one thing that stands in my way. It's not the orgainizations, the visas, the politics, not even my parents' preferences. It's me. I have to give me up to God also, not just what I want. I literally have to give up myself wholeheartedly. I don't think I've yet done that.

Brother Yun survived all those years of prison and torture and persecution not because he was strong. He wasn't. It wasn't because he was knowledgable. He wasn't. It's not because he was a smooth talker. He REALLY wasn't that. It's because he didn't think about what he felt. He didn't look at what he looked like. He didn't say what he wanted to say. It's because what he did was what God wanted him to do. He saw, said, and felt what Jesus would have felt in the same postion. He loved the people that beat him, that abused him. As a result, they became Christians later on in life. They became his close brothers.

I get very angry at a four-year-old for peeing his pants all the time, instead of making it to the toilet. And he never even did anything to me. How dare I? Brother Yun loved the men that would urinate on him, never crying out anything harsh against them. He prayed for them. See what I mean? So much needs to change.