Needing God

China is on my mind. More specifically, Chinese people who continue to amaze me and encourage me and be there for me, despite the distance. Which brings me to this reoccuring thought: what happens when you meet people who are living out the fruits of the Spirit far better than you (the Christian) ever has, and they don't profess to know Christ? How do you approach the Gospel to these people?

Obviously, the Gospel is about freedom and redemption and more than anything else, love. Love between God and people. Love between man and women. Love between children and parents. But isn't it moreso about making meaning in one's life? After all, if we sell the Gospel as something to simply "make you happier" or "make you more successful" or (God-forbid) "make you feel blessed all the time," then what happens when these things are not so after one trusts in Christ? What happens if these three things feel as if they fly out the window of people's hearts the moment they become disciples?

I don't know how to word this, or how to tell people who don't know God about this yet, but I want to try and play with this idea as my way of talking about the gospel from now on. I want to talk about how it's more about giving meaning to things, and less about feeling safe and happy and quaint. How it's about living in and on a certain kind of paradox. One that understands pain and suffering but does not delight in it; one that embraces mystery without embracing an ignorance on tough questions; and one that realizes life is really about loving people and loving God, no matter how many people choose to do the exact opposite. We live on the opposite ends of a spectrum, when really we should be living in the middle. Not the lukewarm middle, but the middle that teeters on balancing mercy and grace with justice and peace. The middle that does not believe in blind love or blind faith, but rather, faith that doesn't marginalize and love that doesn't compromise. I realize, this is the ideal...and we will never (ever) get there. But as I like to tell my students when a few of them have approached me and told me that hope, in the end, turns into hopelessness I say, "No, I don't think it does."

Maybe it turns into a smaller kind of hope...a shred of hope that seems so thin and fragile it appears to not be hopeful at all. But in truth, it is still called hope. And it is still worth clinging to (I think) no matter how many future wars come or how many Tsunamis hit or how many children in orphanages die believing no one loved them. Just because these things are so, doesn't give us right to live less. But it should give us reason to live more.

At least, I think that's what it's all about.

And The List Goes On...

Are there any must-see movies from 2005 that you think would make my top ten list?

Right now, I'm doing my pathetic end-of-the-year scurry to try and see all those films I've missed from this past year and it's overwhelming. From "King Kong" to to "Munich" to "North Country" to "The Constant Gardener" to "Brokeback Mountain," there just seems to be an awful lot that came out in the past 2 weeks that are already being talked about as potential Oscar favorites.

But then again, I guess that's how every year goes.

So far, the list of potential ten-best-films is as followed: Crash, Millions, Enron: The Smartest Guys In The Room, Me And You And Everyone We Know, Mysterious Skin, Walk The Line, and maybe (just maybe) Cinderella Man.

Oh, and "My Summer of Love" (although it won all sorts of international awards and critics' prizes) will not be on my top ten list. Although it was at times, an interesting look at love---with its disturbing portrayal of an older brother redeemed by Jesus juxtaposed over his younger sister, lost in a sea of girlhood fascination---the movie was at its best, only somewhat interesting. However, I do love how ambiguous the film played out to be. We need more of that in American movies today.

Behind the Times

Being in China for only 4 months does things to you.

First, for someone like me, it makes you way behind when it comes to movies. My knowledge of what's out there consists of Narnia, King Kong, and Harry Potter. I had no idea their was a sequel to Cheaper By The Dozen, another end of the year movie by director Ang Lee, nor did I ever even hear of Jim Carrey's latest "See Dick and Jane Run" or whatever it's called.

Second, which is related to the first, it makes me feel like I'm behind and there's no use even trying to catch up. It's not everyday that my sister Tiffany is talking on and on about all these indie films she saw in L.A. while I'm sitting there listening to her thinking "I've never even heard of that movie! But it sounds so good!" I can't remember the last time where she---or anyone in my family really---saw an indie, arsty-fartsy movie before me. It's disconcerting for someone who sees the last 6 or 7 years of their life through the lens and grid of what has happened in the world of cinema (i.e., 1999 was the year of "The Matrix," "Magnolia," "American Beauty," and my senior year of high school; and 2002 was the year of "About Schmidt" and "Punch-Drunk Love," and the best Fall semester I ever experienced at Taylor---you get the picture). And so now, it makes me feel like I have little to offer people now when it comes to movies.

Maybe I didn't realize how much my useless movie knowledge was the springboard for half of my conversations but I'm realizing this is true. And so, I've resorted to something else I feel I can talk on for hours---boring people to death---and that is China. So for those of you who haven't been around me in person lately...watch out. Because my "In China..." stories are shooting out of me like slippery watermelons.

What a pretty sight, huh?

Pudding and Alvin and Me

Today, I ate with the cutest Chinese student couple I've ever seen. They're both non-English majors, but through a series of weird and random encounters, I met up with them finally for lunch after my classes.

Their english names? Pudding and Alvin. And I'd like to add that Pudding is the boy and Alvin is the girl.

All afternoon, the three of us connected in ways and on levels that people who I can speak perfect English with never could. It is odd when you realize although someone does not understand your words exactly, they still understand your meaning. And yet, so many of my English-speaking American friends I have trouble with communicating with? Why? We both speak the language! Maybe we should both start speaking in the simplest of words? Maybe we should always dumb the language down until our friendship is worked up enough to withhold the burden and fickleness of weighty three-syllable+ words?

Whatever the reasons, I had a fun time explaining to Pudding and Alvin why their English names were so funny. Telling them that Alvin was a little boy cartoon chipmunk's name was hard, but eventually, it clicked inside both their heads. And that's when the light flickered on in Pudding's eyes!

"Oh! I know your mean! You think "why are our names a 'food' and an 'animal?'" Pudding said.

"Exactly," I said. "You understand me exactly!"

And in the freezing, brisk Linyi City air, we walked and laughed and talked and mumbled in our broken Chinglish knowing that no matter where the conversation turned, we could always count on bringing it back to smiles with me asking them two simple words: "food" and "animal???"

I've yet to see Chinese people laugh so hard.

Mary

Recently, I've been taken aback---at times, to almost tears---when thinking about the Christmas story this season. Being in China doesn't help, as the usual Sunday church-going experience is gone and the constant reminders of Joseph and Mary and Jesus are not scattered in manger scenes all over the city. But still, a song will play on random from my iTunes and it will send me swimming in a mixed bag of emotions---all concerning this teenage girl.

Most of the time, we miss the real Mary at Christmas time I think. We see her as this calm, ever-giving, ever-willing woman who's merely the passing point from the heavens to the Earth. But in reality, she wasn't this at all.

She was however, this very young girl who just happened to believe in the impossible. To believe the radical call to obey what some angel named Gabriel told her in a dream to believe in. And it wasn't some fairy tale bit-of-magic-sort-of-dream, but it was the ordinary and extraordinary dreams we humans have all the time. The ones that make us believe in something greater out there.

But lately, I've wondered about what kind of thoughts and emotions must have been running through her head and heart that night and the following morning. Obviously, we've all had times where we feel God has spoken to us---from the tiny moments through our conscience as a 6-year-old to the loud and outragous repeated calls to love He stirs up in us each and every day---but the rational part of us tends to always question this voice. And rightfully so! For how many crazies and loonies have there been out there who thought they heard the voice of God but really only heard themselves talking very quietly? Or more importantly, how often do we write off the crazies and loonies out there (Mary would be one in our day, no doubt, making every CNN and FOX news headline from China to Cairo to Chicago) as merely fools fooled by themselves?

I believe in the mystery of the Gospel, but what does this look like? Is it some ambiguous whirwind of supernatural phenomena, or is it simply the acts of love that often go unseen in the world today, everday?

I don't know, but right now, I'm humbled by the thought of anyone who behaves like Mary today.