Train

“Let me tell you what He has done for me, He has done for you, He has done for us. Come and listen, come and listen to what He’s done.” – David Crowder

I am on a train. I am on a train, traveling at 307 km an hour. Naked trees and green fields wipe past the window, cold beneath a rabbit fur sky, and a woman in a blue suit is walking up and down the aisles selling popcorn and shouting in Chinese. It is here, I think—on this train—that I can see my life as it has wiped past with these trees and fields. Somehow the forward motion of the train reminds me of these past few months, always moving, always going, even when things are uncertain or unclear. Stable in its motion, strong enough to keep moving though I stop and think about things the window has already seen.

             To be honest, I knew China would change me. I knew it and welcomed it, but I didn’t know how or when or what or why. I came here a little girl studying the art of imagination, unable to imagine anything. My future was hidden the moment I stepped on the plane to come here. And yet, time has passed, just as it passes now, and finally I know the path that has brought me from that little girl to who I am now. A girl on a train, thinking about words.

            My life is made up of words. I taste them, I drink them, I run my fingers over them, and they hug me and define me. I see them wherever I go. On this train, for instance, I see words. Blue squares of carpet. Red suitcase. A bag of orange peels. Toilet paper sagging with wet. The words define the essence. In the same way, I have been sipping on three words that define the essence of my semester abroad.

            Bread. Marathon. Lightbearer.

BREAD

On this path and through these words I have discovered the daily Provision of God. Jesus is “the Bread of Life.” He taught His disciples to commune with the Father, praying “give us this day our daily bread.” In the Old Testament, God sent His people manna from Heaven. Consistently. Perfectly. Morning by morning. Provision. The Chinese, they get it. Bread is a staple food in every region: Nan, mian bao, steamed buns, sacks and sacks at every meal, bread necessary for survival. Before China, I ignored God’s provision in the present. I would daydream about some perfect future just around the corner, a future created from a different, better substance than that of the Now. I’m not sure why. I think perhaps it was because I was too comfortable in my current existence. I wasn’t living a life that required God, and I wasn’t accepting or noticing the manna at my feet.  I didn’t realize I was starving. And then I came to China. The foreign environment, the strangers surrounding me, the lack of chocolate milk—these things snagged my mind sleeves and pulled me out of the future and into Shanghai.  Suddenly I no longer felt comfortable. I did not know, nor did I feel known by the students in the Jia. I couldn’t see the sky, I couldn’t read Chinese menus, I couldn’t share my heart with anyone, so I averted my eyes.

And saw the manna.

And I understood: God has a beautiful life for us here, now, and He gives us the opportunity to join that beautiful life of relationship and redemption every morning for Breakfast. Honestly, God has been so good to me. He has been a shield for my heart and a Provider for my needs and desires. He has made me uncomfortable, and out of that discomfort I have discovered the best Bread I’ve ever tasted.

Marathon

Marathon training has become my microcosm, my world in miniature. God knows my love for story, and for metaphors, and for character development, and He has combined all three to give me a living, physical representation of His work in my spirit. I am running the race, pursuing the prize, discovering the true power of throwing off everything that hinders, and the sin that so easily entangles, perseverance in my soles. I run through the streets of Shanghai, experiencing my own small cartography lessons. I explore. I discover. I engage in myself, in Christ, in China. I chose to run this marathon in Shanghai because I desired to remain physically fit, to ensure thinking and alone time, and to understand my surroundings. I see strange things on runs. Chinese people clap, clap, clapping in rhythm to nothing and no one. A beggar playing his erhu in the subway. Women in white tights and fur boots. Chinese yoyos. Sculpture parks. Running Gu fills my pockets with flavors such as mandarin orange, mint chocolate, blackberry (my entire life I’ve underestimated the decadence of mint chocolate). As my runs grow longer and farther, I rely on the energy the Gu provides to propel me home. Each packet is a small, sticky sweet dollop of encouragement that reminds me of the finish line. Running is hard, and I am weary, and life is hard, and I am weary. But God is my daily Bread, my Provider, and through this semester He has filled me with little encouragements, little sticky sweet reminders that He is good, He is in control, He loves me, and He is here. He gave me Shanghai Community Fellowship, a beautiful church that strengthens and fortifies me on the weekends, provides Leadership Retreats and Celebration Dinners. He allowed me to meet a woman in a bathroom who has become both a mentor and a friend in times of desperation. He has stimulated blessed conversation after GirlTalk, our Tuesday discussion group on relationships. He has cleared away the clouds and provided blue skies on days when the clouds were in my heart. He has given me this train, leading me to Beijing and a weekend of rest and reflection. God has been good to me, and His daily Gu is oh so sweet.

LIGHTBEARER

The Daoist concept of Yin and Yang is not merely a concept in China. It is a winged creature, with blood and skin and sinew and a heart thumping, breathing on my neck’s nape in the subway and in the streets. I see the Light and Darkness everywhere; I see the duality in everything. In Tibet, gargantuan Buddhas crafted from gold and silver sit on thrones overlooking beggars with thin robes.  In Shanghai, employers encourage women to pursue education and then hire their secretaries and flight attendants for the folds of their eyelids.  Road laws are nonexistent, but Coldstone Creamery employees won’t substitute chocolate for dark chocolate when concocting Chocolate Devotion. Jing’An Temple is a shopping mall. Sidewalks are slippery with spit and airplanes serve Haagen Dazs instead of peanuts. China has no official religion and yet, the underground church is flourishing, and God is moving, and people are loving. I was lost on a run once, and a Chinese man gave me enough money to take a taxi home. Street sweepers smile at me while running, and salesclerks tell me I look piao liang when shopping for headbands. Light abounds in the darkness here, and in this duality I have become obsessed and mystified by the Light. I want to pursue Christ, and know Him, and dwell with Him, and spread His warmth candle by candle or bonfire by bonfire. And God is faithful.  He has given me a word to savor in light of my desires, a word that brings purpose to my life: Lightbearer. And I think He is calling me to this word, to be a Lightbearer in this Jia, to be all in, bearing the burden of His awesome Torch with strength and courage. To be brave, and solid, and positive when life is hard. To abide in the Light, as He is in the Light. I cannot do this alone, I cannot produce my own light.  But, by God’s grace, I can be captivated by His light, and tell others about it, that they might be captivated alongside me.

A Final Word

         Now the train is slowing and my first semester in China is drawing to an end.  And yet, as I zip up my jacket, stuff my books back in my bag, rummage for my train ticket in the pocket of my blue jeans, I know somehow the journey is only beginning. I have tasted my first pomegranate, and seen my first shooting star, and ridden my first camel. But there is so much more to taste and see and do. This place has changed me, yes, but there is more change to come. More words, more trains, more China. I welcome the challenge, knowing that God is good, God is in control, God loves me, and God is here. I look into the Light of the sun, and step out into the chill Beijing air.