Showing posts with label missionary life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label missionary life. Show all posts

Friday, April 30, 2021

The Coin and the Dome Light - Two Happy Stories from Taiwan

Over the past couple of years I have typically written longer/heavier posts and have several drafts of that sort which may eventually see the light of publishment. But on this warm Spring evening after a very long posting hiatus, I'm writing about a couple of incidents recently which reminded me how life is more pleasant when we look out for each other.


A high speed train rolling into sunny Hsinchu

The Necessary Coin

The first incident took place after a long day of productive meetings, a few weeks ago as I write this. Our baby isn't the worst sleeper I've heard of, but by somewhere around one month my wife and I had been experiencing all sorts of different flavors of sleep-deprivation, which added a bit of spice to my responsibility of chairing this particular meeting for the first time and also taking all the minutes. The trip up to the big city had been smooth, and I'd arrived at the high speed rail station in time to snag a Japanese-style pork and shredded cabbage sandwich to eat on the train along with a cup of coffee. 

All the meetings went well, but after a sequence of "traveling to the capital-morning meeting-lunch meeting-afternoon meeting" I was tired in that late afternoon way, and looking forward to heading home. The train back down the coast was peaceful and sunny, and I could let my thoughts wander for a bit. After arriving at the high speed rail station north of our city and taking a few pictures outside in the good light, I needed to retrieve my car from the big north lot by the station's local railway link. Some parking lots here are automated with cameras, others give you parking tokens, but either way it's typically a smooth process, except for one particular cursed parking garage which I may share about in a future post someday. 

As I neared the payment kiosk for this particular lot--located under loftily elevated tracks so that occasionally a high speed train thundered far overhead on its way up or down the coast--I noticed a long queue of people. Never a good sign. Of the twin machines inside the kiosk, only one was functioning, and I took up my position in line beside the other. The line moved quickly, but as we waited a young man mostly dressed in black behind me said something loudly. After removing my headphones to make sure he wasn't addressing me, I realized he had a bluetooth phone and was talking to someone on the other end while staring into space in my direction, a thing which happens less frequently here than in the U.S.

Then it was my turn to pay, and to my consternation the ample pocket of change I was carrying turned out to be a little too exactly right; I was down to 5 'pennies' (Small copper-colored coins worth 1 NT, short for New Taiwan Dollar, about 3.6 cents apiece in U.S. currency). This was precisely the right amount remaining to pay, but the machine only took 5NT coins or larger. After verifying I had no more coins in my backpack, I had two options; hike to the car on the other side of the parking lot and back while everyone else waited for me, or see if anyone would swap me 5 "pennies" for a "nickel." 

I turned around to face the line that was slowly but inevitably lengthening behind me, and noticed to my surprise that the man in black was already holding out a 5NT coin in his hand. He must have seen the balance on the screen as I was digging around in my backpack. However he couldn't see that I had found the five smaller coins, and thus was simply going to offer me the 5NT so that I could pay and the line could move on. 

I thanked him repeatedly in Mandarin and dumped the five 1 NT coins into his hand as I took the 5 NT coin, and his face showed surprise as he counted the coins, not expecting for the gift to suddenly be a trade. Not everyone would have done that, but Taiwan is the sort of place where it can happen.


A corner fruit market, on an evening of much-needed rain


The Observant Guard

That previous incident came at the beginning of a long busy stretch, which has really more or less continued until the time of this writing. One day earlier this week, I found myself down in our community's underground parking garage. It has room for maybe 80-100 cars, and in one complicatedly-musty-smelling corner are the recycling pails for sorting out the various kinds of plastics, glass, paper, etc. In a more straightforwardly-foul-smelling room, foulness depending on the day of the week, are the big garbage bins and smaller set of "kitchen scrap" tubs which ostensibly get collected and converted into hog feed for pig farmers. 

I was down there on this occasion neither to carry small, pungent bags of things like papaya peelings, onion skins, and egg shells to the scrap tubs, nor large, translucent-pink plastic sacks jostling with fish bones, old face masks, seaweed-almond snack wrappers and way too many baby diapers to the garbage bins, nor even oil-stained, stiff paper lunch takeout boxes, rinsed-out yogurt tubs, gingerly clinking glass oil and soy sauce jars, or humble styrofoam fruit nets to their appropriate recycling pails, but because I was looking around in my car for a printed-out insurance bill. I felt I had already paid it, but wanted to make sure before the end of the month. Having searched the car to no avail, and my sleep-deprived brain filled with other hypothetical places it could be, I accidentally left the dome light on as I left. 

Fast forward to a blessedly rainy evening the next day. I pronounce it blessed because we are in a very serious drought in Taiwan, as all the typhoons missed us last year, and the big reservoirs thus didn't get filled with the vast flood of rainwater those storms drop over Taiwan each summer as they crash into its high mountain ranges and begin to break up. Even all the rain on that day across the big island only served to get back 1 day of national water needs, but with Taiwan's second largest city already cutting water off for 2 days every week, a day's worth of water was very welcome.

I have a habit of reading to my wife and baby before we sleep, which we did through the pregnancy as well, something we credit for the baby seeming to instantly recognize my voice once she was born.  Having worked our way through literary continents like the entire LotR trilogy, we are currently reading the very innocuous Willows in Winter, a heartfelt, many-decades-later sequel to the Wind in the Willows. As I elaborated on the regress of Mr. Toad into the self-aggrandizing schemes he had seemed to renounce at the end of Wind of the Willows and our daughter drifted into a comfortable, milk-drunk daze, I suddenly got a message on my phone and also received a phone call. The message was my landlord telling me the building guard had noticed the vehicle in his unit's parking spot (my car) had an inside light on and contacted him, and the call was from the apartment community front desk, phoning me to make sure I knew to go turn it off. (They had my number because they needed it for my car tag registration for the community lot)

The light had been on for more than 24 hours by that point; I hadn't been back to the car since then as some of my work is done online from home and most errands can be accomplished by walking, the more so as public parking spots are a pain to find. I was grateful, however, to find the light only a little dimmer than before, and the car started right up. After driving a short circuit around our community area just in case, I picked up some cashews and a pork floss* pastry on the way back and returned to our apartment through the night rain, which had by now diminished to a mist. Please pray we'll get more soon.

(*- Pork floss is finely-shredded pork which looks almost exactly like the wood shavings you dump out of an old-fashioned pencil sharpener, and on my first visit to Taiwan I pronounced it based on the appearance and taste to be exactly that, but it's grown on me in the years since, as have many things here.) 

Life and ministry in Taiwan, while sometimes tiring and stressful for reasons beyond our control, is always interesting and often inspiring. I hope these two brief anecdotes give a glimpse into our day-to-day life in which we encounter God's blessings in many small ways. Taiwan is a good place to live, and if traveling had not become a complicated proposition in these troubled days, I would encourage all of you to visit soon. I hope you may yet do so in the future.

Monday, April 22, 2019

An INTP on the Mission Field - Wormtongue or Elrond?

Returning to the INTP series...

Back when I set out on my journey to the mission field, I noticed that there were not many people of my personality among my fellow travelers. To be sure, not all were extroverts, and my seminary was known for attracting former engineers. To be an INTP is not merely to be an introvert, however, but to be very interested in certain things few other people find compelling, and find real challenges in certain tasks most people find routine. That's true of every personality in one area or another, but for INTPs that tends to play out in ways that don't mesh naturally with the missionary lifestyle. It doesn't mean incessant navel-gazing or a robotic inability to empathize with others, but it does mean social energy is a resource that must be conserved wisely, and some time away to ponder the theory of everything (preferably in a high-altitude spot with a good view but also shade) is necessary every so often.

While I have written in the past about the specific struggles of being an INTP or my own experiences of working on the mission field as an INTP, today I want to challenge INTPs in a certain way which certainly doesn't only apply to INTPs. (Even you Enneagram people will get something out of it) To do that, we're going to first look at two well-known characters from the Lord of the Rings:

Grima Wormtongue: The Deceitful Hoarder


In the Rohan plotline of the Lord of the Rings hexalogy, we meet the subversive character of Grima Wormtongue. He is a servant of Saruman who is sabotaging Rohan from within while Saruman's forces ravage it from without. Grima is portrayed in a compelling way by Brad Dourrif in the Peter Jackson trilogy, although he's more Tim-Burtonesque than what I saw in my mind's eye reading the books. He wouldn't be a very effective tool of evil if his appearance and wardrobe screamed "tool of evil", and to some extent we've all been falsely trained by Hollywood to think evil looks like that in real life. Here the words of Lewis in his preface to Screwtape ring true:

The greatest evil is not now done in those sordid "dens of crime" that Dickens loved to paint. It is not done even in concentration camps and labour camps. In those we see its final result. But it is conceived and ordered (moved, seconded, carried, and minuted) in clean, carpeted, warmed and well-lighted offices, by quiet men with white collars and cut fingernails and smooth-shaven cheeks who do not need to raise their voices.

Whatever his appearance, Grima is a subtle and dangerous opponent, as Gandalf observes. After Gandalf arrives at Edoras and breaks Saruman's spell over Theoden, Grima is (somewhat surprisingly, in the context of the story at that point) spared and given a horse to leave. Even at that point, the soldiers of Rohan seem to view him more with contempt than fear, not comprehending how much damage he has done. Theoden does not order him executed but gives him the option to show loyalty or be exiled. In the end he spits on that offer and runs off to join Saruman.

Grima Wormtongue's story has many interesting parallels to Smeagol/Gollum:
- Both are characters who serve the cause of evil individually for their own reasons, and both are bound to their masters by means other than force (Gollum due to his enslavement to the ring Frodo bears, Grima due to fear and guilt).
- Both also "lose" precious magical artifacts: Gollum literally loses his precious, Sauron's ring of power, and Grima loses a palantir (magical seeing-stone) for Saruman by hurling it out of Orthanc at the protagonists assembled below. 
- Both were originally good or at least neutral, and in choosing evil consistently became twisted into something unlike their original selves. (Gandalf says to Theoden about Grima: "once it was a man, and did you service in its fashion.") 
- In the end, both characters are spared when they could have been executed, and eventually attack their master for more or less the very reason they've been serving them. (Gollum when ring-lust overcomes him, and Grima when his fearful hatred finally tips to the side of hatred). 
- In another odd connection, Grima is actually killed by roused-up Hobbits who are taking the Shire back after he snaps and kills Saruman with a knife. (In the movie version which dispenses with this part of the story and moves Saruman's death to a much earlier scene, Grima is shot by Legolas)

Also similar to Smeagol/Gollum, Grima is a thief (who likes to accuse others to hide his own guilt): His crimes are not only limited to spying for Saruman and functioning as a sort of proxy by which Saruman's corroding influence on Theoden can be locally amplified (whether very obviously in the films, or more subtly in the books); he is actively working for the downfall of Rohan in whatever ways he can, and this extends to pilfering and thieving as well.

Grima apparently acted partly out of greed; Saruman had promised him spoils after what he assumed was his inevitable victory, which possibly included Eowyn as well (I may not be alone in thinking in that case victory would have ended Grima faster than defeat did). Apparently he had begun this spoil-taking preemptively: When Grima is forced to retrieve Theoden's sword, it is remarked that "many things men have missed" are found in the trunk where he had stashed the sword away. This is purposefully not elaborated upon by Tolkien, but one assumes that the various other things are items of real or symbolic strength which have been stolen away by Grima. Ahead of Saruman's assumed victory, he couldn't keep his hands off of the most valuable things he could find when the opportunity to steal them away and hoard them presented itself. 

Elrond of Imladris: The Wise Giver


Let us now consider an extremely different character in LotR: Elrond the Half-elven, Lord of Rivendell (called Imladris by the elves)

It wouldn't be helpful here to spend lots of time on Elrond's backstory, so let's summarize by saying Elrond and his brother Elros were born back in the Elder days, the children of a rare and specific High Elf/Historically Important Human marriage. They were given the option to choose their fate, whether to be Elven or Human (in Tolkien's world the afterlife works differently for the two groups, so being "mixed" wasn't an option), and Elrond chose to be of the elven kind, later becoming Lord of Rivendell, important to the plot of both the Hobbit and LotR, and holding one of the three Elven great rings. (His brother chose to be human and founded Numinor, of which Aragorn is the last descendant of the line of kings.) 

Rivendell/Imladris is an interesting place; in the Hobbit it is treated a bit more lightly, with elves singing in trees and Elrond the sage leader of a "homely house" at the edge of wilderland, who primarily helps the Dwarves figure out a map. In the Lord of the Rings and connected works it is described further as one of the three major strongholds of the Elves in Middle Earth, alongside the Shipyards which protect the elves access to the journey west across the Sundering Seas to the Undying Lands, and Galadriel's woodland stronghold of Lothlorien. Rivendell is important enough that it is mentioned in Tolkien's additional writings that Sauron had been hoping to mobilize Smaug and the goblin armies of the north against it, had Smaug not been taken out by Bard in the events of The Hobbit and Dale subsequently re-established as a stronghold that eventually limited Sauron's northern campaign.

Rivendell is described by Bilbo, who ends up living there long term after his departure from the Shire, as "a perfect house, whether you like food or sleep or story-telling or singing, or just sitting and thinking best, or a pleasant mixture of them all." It is the only place Aragorn could call home, the place where the shards of Narsil were preserved as revealed in dreams to Boromir and Faramir, along with many other things not to be found anywhere else in Middle Earth.

As the Lord of Rivendell, Elrond is wise and conservative (somewhat unlike the Jackson films' take on his character), but willing to generously provide precious gifts and important advice from the accumulated bounty of his house as appropriate.

Matthew 13:52


Having looked at those two characters, let's take a look at the truth of scripture. Specifically Matthew 13:52, which reads as follows: 

"And [Jesus] said to them, "Therefore every scribe who has been trained for the kingdom of heaven is like a master of a house, who brings out of his treasure what is new and what is old."

Jesus says this in the literary context of a string of parables, including some of the most famous and quickly recognized parables in the gospels (the sower and the seed, the wheat and tares, the mustard seed, etc.). After the disciples ask about the meaning of the wheat and the tares parable, they claim to understand the next three parables Jesus tells (treasure in the field, pearl of great price, fish in the net). At that point Jesus gives the statement above.
He uses an unusual expression here: "The scribe who has been trained for the kingdom of heaven." In Jesus' day, the profession of scribe doubtless had attracted some INTPs; the job was to record and accumulate information. (Though the legal and administrative responsibilities that came with the task might have scared them off again) In the gospels we typically see the scribes at odds with Jesus, but here he speaks of scribes who are trained for the Kingdom.

There is much wisdom densely packed into this statement. The scribe needs to be trained in order to be like the master with treasures to offer. The training needs to be kingdom training, not merely scribal training. Yet a scribe is already trained to handle religious law carefully and correctly. When someone trained to handle important information carefully is then trained for the kingdom, truly he will have old things and new things to offer, from the redeemed "palace of his mind" of which he will be the master if he learns to take every thought captive for Christ.  


Two Paths for an INTP:


The Matthew verse has always reminded me of Elrond, Master of the House of Rivendell, with great treasures from which he brings forth new(er) and old gifts to aid the cause of Good. And his gifts are not always material, but also good counsel and wisdom, like the scribe above can offer. The opposite of Grima, he does not steal from others to hoard away, but accumulates good things to provide help and succor to others. He does not infiltrate and manipulate, he establishes and maintains.

Elrond himself doesn't take the front lines (not by the timeline of Lord of the Rings, except as part of the White Council). His main role is to be master of Rivendell and to maintain that strong place, described in the Silmarillion as a "refuge for the weary and the oppressed, and a treasury of good counsel and wise lore."

Similarly, an INTP is usually not going to be charging into the front lines full of battle fury, and that's not necessarily where you want an INTP. An INTP is not likely to show up with an army behind him either; the gifts of charisma and natural magnetism and strong-willed leadership that's not afraid to break a few eggs to make an omelet or chew out a subordinate when they need it are not the forte of an INTP. (Though it's quite likely this hypothetical leader's strategic war council has an INTP or three)

On the mission field, however, those who charge in furiously are likely to burn out just as furiously, sometimes leaving a mess that longer-term workers must labor to clean up. And those leaders who can inspire natural loyalty and dominate their subordinates may fail at the servant leadership and humility which seeks not to create a personal empire but to serve and build up the local church, to watch less qualified and gifted leaders struggle and encourage them rather than taking charge. 

By contrast, an INTP will be seeking to impose structure on disorder, to accumulate knowledge and wisdom, to determine what is most valuable and focus their limited energy on obtaining that. Above all, to understand, in a cohesive and articulate sense, what is real and true, to further grasp reality through this, and then to pass on this knowledge to others in useful ways. 

So in terms of leadership, an INTP rarely leads by jumping to the front and rallying others to their standard (I'd love to hear real-life examples of what happened in those situations), but they will seek positions of influence and adequate resources to have at their disposal instead, so that their knowledge and understanding and strategic thinking can be seen as strengths.

Having arrived in this kind of situation, the INTP has two paths to take; we'll call them the Wormtongue path and the Rivendell path:

On the Wormtongue path, the INTP is a loner who seeks influence and resources selfishly or anxiously. Protection and influence can be found by joining a strong leader, and resources can be obtained by wit and stratagem at the expense of others if necessary. Grima seemingly had no allies or "team" in Rohan; as an individual he had already attached himself to a strong leader (Theoden) then betrayed him in favor of a more powerful one with more resources (Saruman). It was an intelligent and strategic choice in terms of personal benefit, but it was an alliance with evil. Underestimated by the strength-and-honor warrior culture around him, Grima had an eye for what was most valuable and had already begun to accumulate it for his own purposes. Doubtless he felt pride in strategically steering Rohan to its ruin, in being the unseen puppeteer, a temptation which many INTPs may especially feel, to use their intelligence and strategic thinking skills to manipulate events for their own security and a desirable outcome. In the end, however, forces beyond his control brought all his careful schemes to ruin.

On the Rivendell path, by contrast, the INTP seeks influence and resources as part of a coalition which seeks to bless and build up: not subversive but superversive. Rivendell didn't build itself, and Elrond did not move to Gondor and slowly take over, like Sauron in Numinor, though he could probably have done so in a similar fashion. Elrond did start with resources few others had, but he used those to build up a strong house (both a location, but also a company of people) which was a blessing to any who stayed there or who passed through. Simply by dedicating himself to being the master of that house as a sort of locus for what was good and true, maintaining "the old that was strong and did not wither," yet recognizing a new age was at hand, Elrond was a major influence for the powers of Good in Middle Earth. 

Seek for the Sword that was broken: In Imladris it dwells;
There shall be counsels taken, stronger than Morgul-spells.
There shall be shown a token, that Doom is near at hand;
for Isildur's Bane shall waken, and the Halfling forth shall stand.


The Last Homely House East of the Sea


And Rivendell was not merely a stronghold and refuge, it also stood for something greater than itself. It was not only called a "Homely House," but "The Last Homely House East of the Sea." This meant it was not only a place of refuge, a place of peace and light and truth, but it pointed to the origin of those things, and the place to which they would return: The True West, in Tolkien's mythos, the Undying Lands, where the servants of God lived, and where the elves desired to return. White shores, and a far green country, under a swift sunrise. The world as it ought to be. Aslan's country, beyond the farthest waves that grow sweet. What people got in Rivendell, then, was not merely rest and refuge, and perhaps wise advice, possibly precious gifts, but also a glimmer of that eternal light beyond the Sundering Seas. What they felt there was a taste of heaven on earth.

The world needs Homely Houses. It will need them more in the coming days. Whether an actual home or establishment, a group of like-minded people, or even few close friends who have accumulated resources and wisdom with the desire to bless and give refuge to others, these small strongholds of light will stand against the turmoil of the world as they have done since the beginning. These places of peace where a little taste of heaven on earth can be experienced stand like burning beacons in the dark for peoples who have chosen to forget the legacy of the gospel they once received, or who have never known it. 

I wish that every church could be a Homely House, which points to and communicates the reality of an Undying World beyond the Sundering Seas not only via the truth kept there, and hopefully shared faithfully there, but as fellowships of light and wisdom and richness and refuge and peace which give those who visit a taste of God’s country. Sadly, many are not like that at all. Sadly, some have this appearance (like one ancient and famous example whose strong stone vault endured a devastating fire last week and protected what was within) but the truth itself may be but little heard inside. But by God’s grace the two are not mutually exclusive, and need not remain so.

And while INTPs have their unique struggles, if they are trained for the kingdom, building up a house (a space, and a fellowship) from which may be brought out treasures old and new for the blessing of the saints and advancement of the kingdom is a task for which they are indeed well-equipped. If God has not yet presented a more specific path to you, I believe it's worth pursuing. Be trained in the kingdom, and build up a house. The path must be chosen daily, and the road will be long, but He goes with us, and before us, and follows after.

Tuesday, January 8, 2019

5 Years in Taiwan: 5 Personal Lessons Learned

(This is the second post in a 2-part series. The first was primarily about the missions side of things, and this one is more focused on personal lessons that have come with my time on the field)

In today's post I'd like to explore 5 personal lessons I have learned or have been in the process of learning over these past 5 years. Some of these are deeply personal struggles, and I share them not to talk about myself, though self-expression is always part of a personal blog, and not as a form of emotional catharsis, but in hopes that other people can identify with and possibly be helped by some of it.


1. The Effectiveness of Simple Endurance through Time


When we are struggling through challenging times in our lives, one of the fastest ways to succumb to temptation is to start believing the thought "this is never going to end." The preemptive despair that comes with this way of thinking encourages us that current decisions don't matter when weighed against the overwhelming suffering of our mental or emotional anguish continued forward in an erroneous hypothetical straight line for the foreseeable future, like a hockey stick climate graph.

It it sometimes true that grievous or painful situations aren't going to undo themselves. Some tragedies are permanent, at least in this mortal life. However, when we say "this" is never going to end, a big part of that "this" is our mental state at the time. There's the false implication that I'll always feel about this situation the way I do now. But being time-bound creatures, that's not usually true.

It's not true that time heals all wounds. Some wounds fester with time. But when facing pain with an attitude of faithful endurance, even if all the future brings is as inadequate a solution as learning to avoid that painful spot in one's memories, that is still a very different place than the pain being fresh and comprehensive and the mistaken conviction that it's a permanent state of affairs.

Being someone who spends a bit too much time in my own head, mental anguish is particularly hard to deal with, especially being an INTP who tries to "solve" the anguish by thinking it through, leading to unhelpful rumination sometimes punctuated by the painful emotions breaking through regardless.

But one thing that can really only be learned by experience is that as time passes, things change. Although there are certainly more and less healthy ways of dealing with something by letting time pass (it takes wisdom to know when to let change happen passively and when to be proactive), if one can simply endure the storm, taking refuge in God's promises, even the biggest personal typhoons blow past eventually.




2. Internalizing a Mentality of Antifragility


If you've read many of my past posts, I am a fan of Taleb's concept of fragility vs. resilience vs. antifragility. One application of the idea can be seen in comparing glass, rubber, and living bone. A hard shock shatters fragile glass, while rubber simply bounces back and is unaffected. But broken bones can heal back with a denser structure than before at the fracture point; in response to damage the bone didn't simply return to normal, but grew stronger there.

For an even simpler example, consider the dandelion above. If a strong gale blew through a piece of land, a stiff but fragile elm tree might lose a limb or even fall over entirely, while a tough and resilient willow could bend with the wind and come out unharmed. However a patch of dandelions would actually prosper greatly by having their seeds blown across the entire countryside. (Yet a spritz of weedkiller could end them, while not greatly affecting the large trees. Everything is fragile to something)

Things to which the adjective antifragile can be applied, actually need shocks and damage to grow healthier and stronger, and peace and protection aren't helpful for growth, just as dead calm days don't help the dandelions to spread their seeds, and periods of peace and affluence can be dangerous for the Church. (I have written in the past how the Church is an antifragile institution)

There are lots of ways this mentality can be applied (Taleb was initially focused on the stock market). But living on the mission field certainly provides ample opportunities. Consider church planting; a "fragile" ministry approach would be borrowing a lot of money to buy a large and beautiful building for a growing church to meet in. Any damage to that building is your achille's heel, and you are in a financially tenuous position. Our little church plant is more resilient, partly through its small size and relational focus; if the community center we meet in closed, we could meet in my coworker's home, or pack into my smaller apartment if necessary. Some people drop off the radar temporarily, but holiday events or special activities bring them back and can be a chance to reconnect. An antifragile model of church-planting is harder to envision in the strategic sense, though I'm working on it. (Persecution can function in that way, but I believe persecution as a church-planting model is best left to God in His infinite wisdom.)

Antifragility is also a very helpful mentality for a person doing cross-cultural ministry. Every mistake I make in the language that anyone points out is a chance to improve, for example, while no mistakes being pointed out doesn't help me even though it feels good. Likewise, every ministry approach we try and see little to no success in is a learning opportunity. Note that this is not just the ministry equivalent of seeing the silver lining or the opposite of eating bitter grapes: It's not a method of self-consolation, it drives you to try out new ways of saying things and try new ways of doing ministry so that stagnation can be avoided and growth obtained through temporary failures and setbacks.

One example of internalizing that mentality comes in is how to deal with the minor failures. If I act embarrassed or offended whenever Chinese mistakes are pointed out, that's discouraging my friends and others from pointing them out. I may save a little face, but I don't learn or grow. Instead I try to maintain and convey the opposite attitude, of a learner who appreciates being corrected. So instead of a "silver lining" approach where at least through making mistakes I learn something, I want and welcome those corrections.

The same is true for ministry work. If I focus on results and how well the church plant or a particular ministry is going, I may get discouraged and feel I'm not a good enough church planter when things don't go according to plan, spiritual fruit seems scanty, or attendance is low. If on the other hand I remember that I'm learning how to plant a whole new church in Taiwan, a difficult task that a fairly small number of people currently alive have experience in, then it's clear that trial and error is absolutely necessary to grow.

In that context, things that don't work well, or even unpleasant surprises, are helpful in ways that things which go smoothly can't be. Recently I've been increasingly able to recognize when setbacks are not just the way life/ministry goes, but are actually helpful progress or even blessings that I would have missed if I'd not changed my mentality in this way.

3. Progress in the Battle against Procrastination


My list of life achievements reads well, but I've missed out on a lot of potentially fun opportunities and experiences along the way. This is partly because I'm an introvert (and that fun weekend trip sounds great but I have a stack of books and some hot tea on standby to recharge my batteries), but probably more so because I have often been plagued by procrastination. I could always get the important things done, for example an important paper in seminary, but by not arranging my time well early on, and waiting too late to start, it wouldn't be a good representation of my paper writing capabilities because I didn't give myself enough time.

Or so I thought. Actually it was an excellent representation of my paper writing capabilities, because being able to start the writing in a timely fashion counts as part of those capabilities. This is a huge realization I've had in the past few years; there is no hypothetical talent. Thinking that someone who is great at writing but never applies themselves is a tragic waste is only somewhat true; if they can't make themselves write they're not great at writing. Or perhaps one could more accurately say they are great at writing snippets and bits of things, but that's a pretty common talent, actually. Whatever wherewithal great writers possessed to actually get lots of words on paper wasn't the "final step" in their talent but a crucial component of it.

At some point I realized my procrastination, when it kicked in automatically, was largely due to a kind of reflexive perfectionism. I don't want to reply to that work email yet, I want to think about precisely how to craft my response. I don't want to message that person and see about meeting tonight, I didn't sleep well last night and don't want to come across as frazzled or my Chinese to be subpar because my brain is too tired.

It took a combination of patiently using logic with myself and some life experience to recognize that other people's expectations aren't that high. They don't want a precisely phrased email in which I have communicated exactly what I want to say including the right connotations, they just want a basic reply to their query and may not spend any time analyzing it enough to notice the connotations at all (They don't have INTP velociraptors that chew on whatever ideas other people bring up). The way I come across when tired isn't all that different from how I normally come across, and most people don't care that much either way. Etc. Etc.

I also realized that trying to be perfectionistic about certain things meant they consumed time that should be allotted for higher priority tasks, and it also kept certain processes stuck and delayed that I could have been benefiting from all along had I settled for an "adequate" step B and continued on to C and beyond.

I'm still fighting this battle, but this past year especially I've made a lot of progress. Writing this section feels a little vulnerable and is certainly humbling (it seems silly to be like this compared to many other people who just do things and get on with their lives) but I hope it may be helpful to other people who struggle with similar tendencies.

4. Improving Goal-focus with Goal-awareness


Despite dealing with the issues described above, I am a very goal-oriented person and this has helped me do some things that required long-term focus and determination. I have also found along the way that while big, long-term goals tend to stay out in front of us, it's easy to lose focus of smaller goals in the process of daily life.

To use a humorous but perhaps very relevant example, I have always had trouble remembering people's names. I might meet several people at a party or event and come away remembering small details about our conversations and things they mentioned about themselves, but only remembering the names of 2 or 3 of them.

There are lots of tips floating around for getting better at this, and my problem isn't a bad memory. It's that I don't set a little goal of remembering the person's name ahead of time. Whatever little mental prompt that ought to be there doesn't happen automatically. All it takes is a brief self-reminder to register each person's name when they say it, then confirm it at some point later. If I can remember to do that, the names are not a big problem.

This can be true in our spiritual life too. When temptation beckons, or when we're tempted to skip a Bible reading or have a bad attitude about something, sometimes all we need is a moment of awareness--is this my goal? In the story of my life, is this how I'm choosing today's page to read?




5. Stepping through Anxiety into Faith


Being a very goal-oriented person as mentioned above, I have frequently struggled with anxiety. I have found that anxiety has an almost purely physical component which I'm susceptible to (gut health issues, etc. Though that's kind of a chicken-egg problem) but is also connected with the process of setting and reaching difficult future goals.

Anxiety arises in that distance between your good goal or destination and your lack of certainty about your ability to reach it. It's as if stepping from one stone to another across a fast-moving river (with a waterfall immediately downstream), you can only do it in slow motion, and the stone your foot is descending toward keeps wavering in and out of existence.

In that kind of situation, with the anxiety gathering like storm clouds full of electrical potential, any incident, thought, or situation can act like the tall tree or building which brings down the lightning of panicky thoughts and in more serious cases can even activate the fight-or-flight reflex.

For me, setting a big and long-term goal like "I'm going to be a long-term missionary in Taiwan" is easier than it is for some other people. I can take a goal like that and break it down into a strategy for getting there, and feel confident that each step along the way that relies on me can either be accomplished straightforwardly, or I can learn how to. (Having been homeschooled does help with that mentality, I think--I know I can teach myself what I need to know as long as the information is available)

But that very determination to reach a far-off and worthy goal means saying, to that part of you that wants to be tired, that wants to change to a more comfortable or easier goal, that isn't sure you're cut out to live so consistently outside your comfort zone, that wants to remind you of all the things outside your control that could happen to ruin your goal, that it needs to either cooperate or keep silent. It means thrusting down doubts or nervousness and moving forward step by step. But those doubts and nervousness and exhaustion don't always really go away. Sometimes they sink down into your unconscious, and take revenge later in the form of irrational anxiety.

I have learned, then, for someone who struggles with anxiety, your gut is not always to be listened to. That deep feeling of certainty, correctness, or warning, that any intuitively-minded person is familiar with, can be hijacked by anxiety and turn into a false alarm beacon warning that something is deeply wrong when nothing is more wrong than usual. The more you try to use logic and rational thinking to calm yourself down, the more that haywire intuition insists that you wouldn't need to be doing that if something wasn't already wrong.

But your gut is another form of intelligence too. Even for people with strong anxiety, it's not a good rule of thumb to simply always do the opposite of what your gut is saying. Thus there is another kind of wisdom one must cultivate; to know when your gut's alarm bells are giving you an important warning, and when it's just burnt popcorn.

That wisdom can grow, put down roots, and produce fruit, under the bright light of faith. Some people facing anxiety and uncertainty try to have faith "in the universe," that on the whole there's a kind of big goodness out there, or a sort of automatic karma calculator, which will help things work out for you as often as not, especially if you can keep a positive attitude. (New Age thinking, but it's so prevalent now that the adjective is outdated.)

But the universe doesn't have its own consciousness, and it's not your friend. Indeed, an argument often used against Christianity is the painful and seemingly nihilistic experiences many humans endure during their short (and often foreshortened) lives. You can't swerve from this to immediately claiming faith can have "the goodness of humanity" or "the positivity of the universe" as its object.

The perplexing nature of our world that can contain such beauty and such pain simultaneously is one reason I am a Christian. While the Bible does not explain many things we are curious about, it does explain exactly how the world arrived at this paradoxical state of interposed pleasure and suffering, beauty and ugliness, hope and despair. Anxiety comes from living in this kind of world, while maintaining worthy goals you strive to achieve despite uncertainty and recognizing many events are beyond your control.

Anxiety is not necessarily a lack of faith, then, although increasing faith is a good remedy for it. It can sometimes just be an overcharged recognition that the world is not okay, and it doesn't actually have any safety rails, only well-worn tracks and wilder cliffs that are no sure guarantee of security or danger. Yet, we still have to live in it, and with some amount of courage we can live with joy too.

Anxiety-prone people don't really have the choice to suddenly become that kind of person whose happiness partly stems from not contemplating possibilities, though as I mentioned there are physical aspects which can be improved. Perhaps more accurately, I don't want to shift "sideways" from being something who overthinks things, to someone who has figured out how not to think about things as much. I want to progress on, in faith, to being someone who can use overthinking for God's glory, but has the trust and courage to not suffer the side effects of anxiety, etc. These years God has given me some valuable puzzle pieces, which have helped me see the bigger picture, and step out of the back-and-forth struggle of trying to solve anxiety by thinking my way through it.

One step on the path to overcoming anxiety for me was thus a sort of Molon Labe*; yes my life could be uprooted and my goals undone at any point by events beyond my control, but I choose to wait until that happens and let it be a nasty shock that I deservedly experience grief and anger over, and not live in that anxiety ahead of time, as if that will somehow lessen the pain if the shock ever comes.
(* The famous Spartan response to the Persian Emperor's demand to surrender their weapons -- "Take them, if you can succeed in coming to do so")

Do people cling to anxiety for that reason, believing it's somehow paying down the deposit of future pain? I don't know, though at times I felt that was the unspoken lie I was being told. But I do know we can choose instead to climb out of our foxholes and run forward, even though life is like a battlefield where many soldiers don't survive based on their skill at arms but on where the enemy arrows or mortar shells shot into the sky randomly come down or don't. Because God is there, and all shall be well, even if an arrow strikes down into the middle of your goals, or health, or even life.

I am still making my way across that river, and on the mission field the stepping stones are not always clear. Sometimes it feels more like you have to wait for a log to float down the stream to make any forward progress. But each step is a step away from ignorance about the painful reality of life on this earth, not into despair or into comfortable apathy, but toward the firm foundation of faith that "whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say, it is well, it is well with my soul."

It is well.

Tuesday, January 1, 2019

5 Years in Taiwan: 5 Missionary Lessons Learned


(This is the first post in a 2-part series. This one is focused on missions, and the second post is more focused on personal lessons and realizations that have come with my time on the field)

A couple weeks ago marked the 5th anniversary of my arrival in Taiwan for long-term service. I was so busy I almost forgot about it altogether, and didn't do anything special to celebrate the occasion, but it's still a noteworthy date for me. Each of the 5 years here has been quite different, and come with its share of surprises, disappointments, and small successes. In this entry I'd like to share some things I've learned as a missionary over those years.

1. People in other metacultures think differently from you (in different ways than you think they do)

I spent a lot of time reading and researching the culture of Taiwan before I came to do full-time ministry here. I also had lots of short-term experience, probably quite a bit more than the average missionary coming into a culture long term. All that was only very partial preparation for understanding the different worldviews and ways of thinking that are prevalent in Taiwan, however.

What I found was that understanding a metacultural (metacultures like "Western" "Islamic" "East Asian" overly greatly diverse individual cultures to be sure, yet there are also meta-level commonalities and core values, and deeper differences from each other) level difference in thought is much more complicated than simply taking the way you would think about something and substituting a different cultural priority or core value. That's because the differences are not always parallel. People don't think as you think, just with different habits and priorities; you may run into people of greatly different cultures that you "click" with very naturally due to similarities in the way you think, and you may encounter people whose entire way of thinking seems to be a mystifying black box, with what comes out not seeming to be connected to what goes in.

My girlfriend and I have coined a useful term (useful for us, at least) in Mandarin for this idea, 想法法. (The way of your way of thinking) This differs between different personality types too, which is an added layer of complication beyond cultural differences. Using the Myers-Briggs types, for example, there are scenarios where a German or Korean ISTJ would react in very similar ways and "get" each other's way of thinking, where befriending the Korean ISTJ or a Korean ENFP early on in one's move to Korea might result in wildly different ideas about "how Korean people think."

So it's not as simple as saying "In this situation, I would be prioritizing clear communication to solve the problem but a Chinese businessman might be prioritizing indirect communication to save face." That's not wrong, but it doesn't go deep enough, because you are thinking of it as prioritizing clear communication to solve the problem, but the Chinese businessman, while probably aware of his own desire to save face, does not necessarily think of it as prioritizing indirect communication, just talking as one does in these situations. Furthermore he has his own personality, and in the complicated interaction of cultural worldviews and communication styles with individual personality and past experiences, it's hard to say which is the "head" and which is the "neck."

All that is to say, it's wise to understand cultural core values, and also wise to understand they're just one important piece of the puzzle. You want a fuller picture to navigate by, when at all possible.

2. Sometimes what we call culture fatigue is really environmental fatigue (and sometimes it's just fatigue)


More or less all long-term missionaries go through a stage called culture fatigue, which isn't the "shock" of early arrival but when those troublesome bits of the culture that are especially tiring or problematic for you or in your particular ministry context start to wear you down over time.

I've noticed, though, that the parts of "life here" that I find especially tiring are generally only partially related to the culture. For example, as I write this, New Year's Eve (Dec 31) was last night. There were some scattered fireworks and firecrackers, but the rain mostly kept things down. But if Chinese New Year's Eve this February falls on a good clear night, it will be firecracker armageddon. That one night of noise is cultural, and sleep is more or less impossible before 2 or 3AM.

But that's only the one night. Getting to sleep any night at my old apartment could be tough, because of the cars or motorcycles accelerating over the bridge near my apartment. In the U.S. there might be some rules about mufflers and things which would make a slight difference in noise levels, but not much. Essentially it's not a cultural problem at all, it's because my ministry area is near the edge of a metropolis of 7 million people. Living near a main road in a major U.S. city wouldn't be that different.

Many things we put down to culture shock are like that. It's not the culture, it's that as missionaries we have mostly chosen to live in a different environment than the ones we grew up in, or would choose to live in as adults. There are aspects of that environment that are rewarding and fascinating, and some that are inconvenient or exhausting.

Beyond that, I've noticed that when I'm exhausted, I'm in good company here. It's not as if everyone here has things good and I'm the outsider forced to struggle. Life is hard for many people, and Taipei is full of people working long hours for never-rising wages. The rampant insomnia, seasonal pollution, sometimes overcrowded metro stations, and capriciously steamy hot or clammy cold weather are all things we face together. It is true that I gave up a comparatively comfortable and less exhausting life in the States to live here and do what I do, but I knew that would be the case, and my life here is full of conveniences and comfort unknown to missionaries here decades ago, or in many other parts of the world.

So now when I'm exhausted, I don't think "I need a break from Taiwan," because it's not really about what's different about life here, and everyone else is tired too. What I really enjoy is a break in Taiwan, to do those things that made me fall in love with the place to begin with.

3. The Church may be part of the problem, but it's also the point (and the only lasting progress)


The Church is an easy target sometimes. With 2000 years of history and immeasurable impact on the world, the power and influence that accumulates in the earthly shadow cast by the kingdom of God has attracted many sinful people who did terrible things in the name of Christ, let alone the fact that believers with careers that place them in the public eye often come under heavy spiritual attack and commit grievous sins.

All this is fodder for those who want to commit the genetic fallacy and tar the Church with the sins of her individual saints (plus pretenders and wolves in sheep's clothing), as if middle-schoolers failing or cheating on their math tests should cast some kind of doubt on the legitimacy of number theory.

That being said, the Church in any locale has her problems and dysfunctions, and local churches can abound with them. Taiwanese churches have their share as well, both systemic problems sometimes accidentally introduced by missionaries doing the best they knew to do years ago, and problems in individual churches where people ought to do better, but have other priorities, just like sinful but redeemed people in any part of the world. (If I can name two examples of problems I see in churches here, one is a reliance on materials or programs from outside of Taiwan; plenty of both are available from Korean and Western churches, and little to none of it was developed in Taiwan for the needs of Taiwan. Simply translating it to Chinese doesn't make it locally effective. Another problem is that there are too many very small churches with a pastor or minister who can barely keep things going, and a congregation--often grandparents plus a few dutiful children or grandchildren--that expects all spiritual work to be done by the pastor, while most young people flock to a few large churches with better resources and an effective student ministry. Neither of these problems are anyone's "fault," but they both contribute to gridlock in effective church growth here)

When attempting to make any plan work smoothly, it's typically best to involve as few people as possible. When attempting to make any plan work smoothly when working cross-culturally with churches and church leadership, well, just don't expect that. If it didn't develop organically in the churches themselves, it probably means trying to change church culture and habits. It's not impossible, and there are wonderful success stories, but it can be tough and messy at the best of times. I've even see cultural insiders with good reputations trying to pitch ideas and completely failing because they didn't understand the culture and leadership attitude of that particular group of churches.

Due to all this, there are times when missions organizations find it easiest to work outside the domain of the local church, doing their own thing and answering to their own leadership, and interacting with churches when it's part of the strategy, or when conditions are favorable. Sometimes this happens automatically with apostolic-type church planting, in new areas where there are few or no churches to cooperate with. Perhaps too frequently, church planting is done apostolic-style because of the churches nearby.

While it's true that some churches simply aren't ready, willing, or able to cooperate effectively, we must never lose sight of the fact that the local church is the Body of Christ, incarnated in a particular area. When missionaries leave, whether to another field, retirement, or to permanently cast off the perishable, the local church, however it is, remains. One of our top priorities should be figuring out the best way to leave it healthier than we found it, yet not in ways that introduce dependency on outside resources.

4. Church planting is less about the plan (and more about the planters)


As we've tried different outreaches and activities for evangelism and to grow this little neighborhood church, two things that have become apparent is that 1) there wasn't a strong plan at the outset on how to plant the church, but also 2) that it wouldn't have mattered much because in our context, so much is based on factors we can't control. What rapidly also became apparent is that church planting is a holistic spiritual challenge that requires experience and discipline in a variety of areas. Neither my local coworker nor I had participated in a church plant before, and the past few years have been... highly instructive.

What became glaringly obvious in hindsight, after some experience, was that our team wasn't diverse enough to tackle evangelizing our neighborhood ad hoc. If you're planning an outreach aimed at families (recognizing that that mainly means moms and kids here, with the occasional dad making an appearance), you need female coworkers who can follow up with the moms that show up, and who have at least some spiritual gifting and preferably a little experience in doing so. As a youngish unmarried man, but also a foreigner here, the people I'm able to follow up with are a more selective group, and not one that typically showed up for the kinds of events and outreach strategies we used.

Temporary additions of short term workers have filled in some of the gaps in our "potential discipleship coverage", but their return home generally saw the people they attracted disperse. With a good impression of our ministry and Christians in general, to be sure, but still absent. As my Taiwanese coworker once sagely remarked, "guanxi doesn't transfer": the relationships you build with people over time can't be transferred to a coworker when it's time to leave just because you were working for a common goal.

Some basic lessons for any new community-based evangelistic ministry emerge:

1. The team should look roughly like who you're trying to reach

(Compatibility for follow-up and future discipleship should be built in, not a happy accident that requires special acts of grace to see)

2. The team should be stable, or have a stable supply of shorter term help

(And have a plan for how their period of service fits into the long term ministry goals)

3. There should be ties to the local church, however local that needs to be

(If your church is the local church, it's still a good idea to reach out to others when applicable)

4. The team should determine which things can be experimented with, and which can't be redone

(Example: Your first outreach event in a neighborhood will leave a lasting impression. People who meet you will talk to other people. Those times and events need more planning to make sure they are in line with important ministry goals, or you'll be making things tougher for yourselves at the start.)

5. We can do this (better)


When I went to seminary, I had the sort of idea that after 2000 years of perusing the same scriptures from every possible angle, what theology could be humanly known had been pretty much worked out (with, of course, various schools of thought on certain doctrines and the meaning of certain scripture passages) and we were going to learn it. What I learned instead was that while the dogmas and central doctrines of the faith have been established since the councils, there is in fact much work to be done. For example, efforts are ongoing to find period manuscripts to help decipher the hapax legomena, the words only mentioned once, to bolster our interpretations of them. The internet has provided a way for people to easily access exegetical tools and communicate biblical knowledge (enabling the promulgation of weird and apocryphal ideas to be sure, but also exposing isolated church communities to basic sound doctrine), and furthermore the task of rightly dividing the Word of God is always a new adventure, since new generations with fresh worldviews and priorities are always being born to learn of and experience God and His unchanging truth for the first time.

I had wondered if missions was not similar; if over hundreds of years of taking the gospel into different cultures, and often over a hundred years of experience in different mission boards and sending agencies, some basic effective gospel strategies and organizational wisdom had been accumulated, and the main difficulty would be the doing of it, the on-the-ground work of learning the language, building the relationships, etc.

Not so. What I found instead is that each wave/generation of missionaries comes with their own backgrounds and preconceptions, and the cultures they go to reach are sometimes changing faster even than their home cultures. (Taiwan is one example. The societal change over 3 generations here has been more like the change over 5 generations in the U.S.) What "worked so well" (I don't use quotation marks to question the truth of the statement) when some missionaries arrived seems bafflingly unfruitful when new missionaries arrive decades later, because it's a new generation witnessing to a new generation. The wine needs to be transferred to new wineskins, at times and frequencies and in ways that only wisdom, experience, and careful observation can determine well, and those things don't often line up in the joyful and stressful confusion of cross-cultural life and work. Sometimes highly motivated missionaries do great work for the kingdom, then retire, leaving a hole which cannot really be filled (and too often there was no plan or attempt to do so).

These things can't really be changed, not to mention that much kingdom fruit can only be seen when the Spirit begins to do the work we can't; so many "successful strategies" are merely a case of a mighty wind filling all sails faithfully raised, not that that particular design of sail is the one that should be used everywhere. There is a very frustrating lack of reproducibility for anyone with a business or technical background. It seems common to revert to that mentality, and seek shelter in those kinds of strategies and ministries where results can be reliably obtained through human effort.

But on the other hand, many changes in the world and society are not detrimental to the missionary task, yet missionaries have not yet, or only just, begun to make use of them. To keep up our theme of this post, here are 5 examples:

A. Use the powerful language learning tools that exist


The days of landing in a new country daunted by the prospect of a new language and enduring a stressful and possibly tearful ordeal acquiring the new language, "like drinking from a fire hose" as many vividly describe the process, in many cases can and ought to be over.

I met many exchange students from China while in seminary in Dallas (many of whom found Christ and joined churches while there, praise God). I was surprised at how good some of their English was; it wasn't just a large memorized vocabulary, but they had a strong and natural command of conversational English. I asked them how their English had gotten so good before they came to the U.S., and a few replied matter-of-factly that they'd done video chat classes with teachers in the U.S. for a while before leaving China.

So many tools are now available for widely-spoken languages that once missionaries are officially in the preparation phase for their mission, there's not really any reason not to start learning the languages then. In a new environment and culture, there are so many other challenges to face and lessons to learn that letting the full brunt of new language acquisition hit at that time is best avoided if possible. These days it can be possible.

I recognize there are two major exceptions to this: 1) When you are transferring from one field to another. Learning a language at the outset when highly motivated is one thing; adding another language on top of that one while transitioning from one busy ministry field to a less familiar one is another. 2) When you need to learn a local language, not a global one. That still doesn't stop you from video chatting with locals months before you leave, but it means fewer materials are available, and preparation for distance learning needs to be set up ahead of time.

However what I'm arguing for is more a change in attitude. Build language learning into the process of Going, and decrease its status as a barrier to people wanting to serve. I have been told that, being at least somewhat gifted with languages, I'm underestimating the stress and challenge it is for others. I understand that it's not the same for everyone, since for example as a naturally reserved introvert making new friends cross-culturally is fairly challenging for me, where it's easy for some others. But that just underlines my point; if learning languages doesn't come naturally for many people, why not make full use of the wide range of tools modern technology places at our disposal?

B. A Culture of "discipling Your replacements"


One way to reduce the impact of experienced missionaries leaving big gaps in their wake, would be if a Timothy or a bunch of them were already there when it was time for Paul to go. This is certainly no easy task, and would require a massive time and energy investment. I also know that some missionaries serve in capacities that would make this difficult. However we see both Jesus and Paul using a strategy not of "taking time away from their own ministry to disciple others", but of taking people with them to do what they do.

If a culture of discipling and mentoring (a loaded word, there's probably a better one) as an essential component of ministry was built into our missions mentality, we wouldn't view it as "taking time away from our primary ministry responsibilities" to disciple, but would always be seeking friends to minister alongside us, and discipleship would happen through that, not in spite of or apart from it. 

I believe 5 years in is not too early to be thinking about this, and it's something I want to work on in 2019. If I had to leave in 5 more years, who would step in to continue the work? Or would I simply leave, taking not only the accumulated knowledge and experience of those years with me, but leaving an empty hole in the midst of the relationships I'd invested in during those years?

What if instead I had already been inviting both newer missionaries and younger people to work alongside me for years already, who can build those relationships as I do (and perhaps faster than I do), and step in to lead those ministries when I'm not available? (And be ready to lead their own) It seems worthwhile to make this a priority to a far greater degree than I've personally seen on the field, both in and out of church.

C. Millennials are natural missionaries, but need leadership


My generation, especially its younger cohort, is continually decried as fragile and unmotivated. They have left the Church in droves, and seem to have an inexplicable lack of interest in avidly pursuing the American dream. What does motivate them, to a large degree, are causes they perceive to be worth investing one's time and energy in. It grieves me that the Church missed this. At a time when an idealistic generation was growing up with the connectivity of the internet ingrained in their psyche and a peak of post-WWII resources behind them, the Church said something along the lines of: "Sit tight, we've pretty much got this Church thing figured out smoothly. Just keep showing up for the sake of showing up and some day (very far in the future), all this can be yours."

Meanwhile the World said: "Hey, young, inexperienced idealists who want to make your mark on the world. Have you noticed how unfair the world is? Let's fight injustice together!" Secular ideology provided a cause that seemed worth fighting for. The Church at first reflexively avoided this thrown-down gauntlet, and nowadays seems to be belatedly trying to gain credibility by jumping on the social justice bandwagon. (It's like much of the Church lives in a bubble 5-10 years thick. But I digress.) But it nearly lost a generation in the process, at least for now. (Only time will tell what older millennials will decide to do)

What many Millennials seem quite willing to do at any time, is reject American dream-style materialism in favor of joining causes that seem more important, on becoming the change they want to see. That's one component of a missionary spirit, but so much of it got wasted on whatever internet cause de jour or social marxist movement took the place of the soul-transforming calling that Christ has laid upon every believer. There is no power that can make the world a better place than regenerated souls on their way to another world while focused on His kingdom. Why were we not led by mature believers into that perilously joyful adventure? Is it too late to start now? (I don't think so)

D. Try more field-based recruitment


Missionaries tend to have some pretty good stories. We can also explain exactly what we're up to and how we need help, in ways that are tough for sending organizations or churches to do secondhand. Why leave most of the work of recruiting up to them? I know different organizations have different structures and procedures, but it seems natural for those who have Gone to invite others to join them in the good work that's going on.

A culture of fields or ministry focus areas keeping in better touch with their supporting churches and reaching out to others not merely to meet support requirements, but with the faithful expectation that God will lead some people who hear to come get involved with the work, might change the picture of shrinking numbers of missionaries in many fields.

Some fields in my organization have done this with success, but it took a concentrated effort and it also takes a certain number of missionaries involved to become "self-sustaining" in that sense. I believe in the Church of the 2020's, this will be an increasingly effective strategy, as it's likely that the culture in the West will continue changing in ways that make sending agency's work (and perhaps survival) harder, not easier.

E. Make it less... dramatic (?) at the outset


I am definitely speaking as a computer engineer-turned-missionary at this point, but I feel it's important to point out that the nature of long-work missionary work has a pragmatic quality to it. Yes, we seek to be all things to all people to win some, in cultures very different from our birth cultures, and it's a work only the Spirit can do in the hearts of those we seek to reach. Yes, I was "called" to Taiwan in that traditional sense that I wouldn't say is necessary to come serve God cross-culturally but definitely makes it easier in certain ways. (On the spectrum of "anxiously figuring out if you're heading in the right direction" vs. "gritting your teeth and enduring when it's tough" it pushes things much further toward the latter)

However, while a calling from God or deep conviction that inspires us to service can both push people out of the comfortable ruts of their normal lives and provide motivation when times are tough, emphasizing it so strongly and hyping up (for lack of a more respectful term) that decision to forsake everything and go to the ends of the earth, also throws up a huge barrier, one that may have been more appropriate for ages when missions agencies were focused on weeding out the unqualified from among their many applicants, not trying hard to connect with enough willing hearts and get them on the field to keep whole mission field areas from having to close up shop from lack of missionaries to continue the good work.

My own journey to the mission field certainly involved those moments of deep conviction to make the tough decisions to get here, but it was also partly inspired by visiting Taiwan and hearing missionaries share about very accomplishable tasks and needs, getting a more concrete idea of what actually needed to be done. My thinking before visiting any missionaries abroad was that I wasn't spiritual enough (or extroverted enough) to be a missionary. After visiting Taiwan and learning more, it became more a question of "Oh, there's a lot of good work for God's kingdom that needs to be done over there. It sounds like something I could learn to do... if I dare." The daring part is where some dramatic stories of God's leading and providence come in.

The World we live in provides a variety of well-defined life path options. Maximizing the comfort of your life, achieving noteworthy success, becoming the head of a happy and prosperous family, etc. As with so many things in the Church, it would be much more effective if instead of merely pointing at what the world offers/promotes and saying "missions means sacrificing all that," we actually cast a positive vision too, of what is gained and how deeply meaningful missionary life can be.

Missionary life is almost impossibly difficult at times, but life is like that anyway, even sometimes for people who spend most of their lives trying to avoid those kinds of difficulties. What better way to spend one's transient mortal life than in full-time service to your Creator, taking light into dark places, and sharing the beautiful truths of His word and watching lives be transformed by it?

The only things you can take with you to heaven are the friends God reached through you. If that's not a rational reason to jump in and get started in kingdom work, I don't know what is.

Tuesday, May 16, 2017

Taiwan Life: Two Stories

Life in Taiwan is not always full of excitement once you are used to living here (ministry can easily fall into routines, and comfort zones have to be even more actively avoided overseas where it's so easy to retreat to them), but interesting things do happen on a regular basis. Here are two stories from a couple of years ago, which illustrate the kinds of situations I often find myself in.

Story #1: McDonalds Atheist

McDonalds in Taiwan: Typically faster and a bit cleaner than a McDonalds in the States,
and with different food options, though not as nice as the renovated/re-styled ones.
(This particular McDonalds is the least nice one around here, I don't go to them very often these days)

Spring in Taiwan seems to bring insomnia to many. Winter can be rainy and humid, but the air doesn't have the heavy, supersaturated feeling that makes the days oppressive and the nights restless for those more sensitive to atmospheric changes. A couple of years ago I went through a period of insomnia around this time, and with the stress of some unexpected challenges I was dealing with at that time, often went out for a night walk to decompress.

There is a day market near where I used to live in this neighborhood, near an open grey/waste water canal. The mix of the tainted smell of waste water and fresh meat/organs on sale can be oppressive when there is no breeze to move the air, but the market is colorful, the atmosphere is relaxed but energetic, and the mostly car-free street provides an area for families to relax and children to play (you don't see kids freely playing outside here much except at parks with play areas). The area feels comparatively bustling for this wider community, which empties out during the day as people go off to work and school, or to lock down a place to sit somewhere with air-conditioning.

The market consists of fruit and vegetable stalls (and early in the day, fresh cuts of meat and organs) and temporary stands under umbrellas strung down the road which runs alongside the waste-water drainage canal. Continuing for a couple of minutes, the street becomes a covered thoroughfare under an assortment of metal and plastic roofing sheets, with a maze of stalls constructed from old or scrap wood. This is the covered portion of the traditional market, and while fish and some other things are sold inside, there are also various dry goods and small items. It's smaller than a real Chinese nightmarket and less lively and with less variety than a Middle Eastern souk, but seems to have been there for longer than the building around it have stood. (Some Taiwanese friends I have shown around our community expressed surprise that Taipei still has this kind of area; it's a holdout from an earlier era of the city)

At night, the temporary stands along the road are either left there or wheeled into little niches, and the covered area of the market becomes a dark and silent maze of a few alleys, full of the musty smell of old wood and dust that got very hot during the day and are now cooling off. I call it the haunted market for fun, as it does have that vibe at night, though the only ghosts I've seen are cats sneaking stealthily through the roofs and rafters, hunting large rats, and sometimes creepily staring down at you silently with eyes reflecting whatever light may or may not be present.

One late evening, as most of the city had gone to bed, I restlessly made my way down to a McDonalds I knew would still be open. The quickest way was through the "haunted market." I know those streets well, and emerging from a narrow opening onto the main road, my destination was directly ahead. The weight of my introversion was upon me, and I didn't want any social engagements, just to eat something satisfyingly unhealthy and read on my phone for a while. (Yes, missionaries have those times too)

As I sat reading and listening to music, a conversation beside me began to filter through. My Chinese had just reached a level where it was possible to "overhear" things people were saying, versus needing to actively focus and listen to catch anything. I heard certain Christianese phrases which indicated the people talking were Christians, and began to feel like I needed to at least say hello to them.

I turned and politely asked what church they were from. They were very surprised that a white foreigner had randomly done this, and I explained that I was a Christian who had moved to Taiwan to help the Taiwanese church. (I sometimes don't use the term 'missionary' as it's ambiguous and people don't ever inquire further) They were happy to hear it and invited me to join their conversation. They were speaking with a guy who had come to their church for a while and counted as part of their social group but who wasn't a believer, and was actually an atheist; skeptical that God existed at all. They asked if I could help them convince him that God was real.

It's rare in Taiwan to not believe in the supernatural or the divine. The significant majority of Taiwanese view the existence of an unseen, supernatural world as a matter of course; in Taiwan you are never living far from it, and many people's lives are entangled with it. (One need only visit some of the creepier temples to be well aware of it.) To deny it would be rather like stubbornly disbelieving the existence of unseen information being passed around in the air via wifi because you can't see or feel it.

I know some excellent arguments for the existence of God, solid enough that only those skilled and having experience in this area of debate would know how to talk their way out of them. However, this approach is all but useless in Taiwan, because religion is not a matter of logic here. People frequently follow multiple, mutually-exclusive belief systems simultaneously. This is not paradoxical for them because it is not considered reasonable for humans to presume to know which of the countless explanations of the divine are true, if that even means anything; for the majority of Taiwanese, a human's job is merely to be respectful and sincere in our approach to "the divine," and not disrespect anyone by saying their particular understanding is wrong, unless it leads to obviously bad behavior and societal disharmony. (or polluting the environment; mass burning of paper money on important lunar days has been targeted lately as contributing to the bad air quality here)

So although I recall mentioning perhaps one or two of these, I didn't dwell on them. My Chinese was also not quite up to explaining how the point of maximum potential energy in the universe could neither have eternally existed nor could an eternal universe gradually gotten there; something must have triggered it and/or supplied the energy itself.

Instead the very present circumstances suggested the most powerful approach: I informed the man that God had sent me, a foreign Christian, from the other side of the world, to Taiwan, to this McDonalds at midnight where I just happened to overhear their conversation, to tell him that God was indeed real. His eyes widened a bit at that, but I pressed the point home. What are the chances of this conversation even happening? His friends were excited. "It's an angel!" they said, not meaning a ministering spirit from heaven but in the sense Taiwanese Christians use, that person you need, sent by God at the right moment.  The guy dithered a little, saying he wanted God to give him some kind of evidence. I waved my hand. "Hello, I am your evidence. I'm hear from several thousand miles away in this McDonalds at midnight, sent by God to tell you that He is real." He looked scared. (As is nearly always the case, the problem wasn't lack of evidence; the problem was that he didn't want to believe.)

We talked for a while after that, and eventually it got very late and we all needed to head home. A few months later I moved to the other side of the neighborhood (and stopped eating junk food at midnight) and very rarely went to that McDonalds, and I didn't see that group of people again. But certainly God arranged that meeting. I hope the man took it to heart. In the midst of a challenging time in my adjustment process here, it was certainly encouraging to me.

Story #2: Accidentally Stumping the TCM Doctor

A packet of Chinese medicine, herbal powder to mix with water and drink.

Not long after that, I came down with a pretty bad flu. It took me nearly a week to get past it, yet while my body stopped aching and I could function again, I didn't really feel "better." I mentioned this to one of the men who attended my English class at the community center. "I'm going to see the Chinese medicine doctor in a couple of days," he said, "do you want to come?" I had not tried Chinese medicine yet, but I was willing to give it a shot.

Traditional Chinese medicine (TCM) is focused less on curing your illness or suppressing your symptoms and more on figuring out why you're getting sick in the first place, and fixing that. If you don't want to invest time and effort into becoming more healthy, you just want a pill to make you feel better, then Chinese medicine is not for you. Even in Taiwan many people are skeptical of it (you can take expensive herbal supplements and avoid certain foods for a long time and not notice any real change), but many people have experienced its effectiveness for certain problems. (Even in the West, acupuncture has made a name for itself by resolving certain problems in an almost magical way. It seems there are signal paths in the body that ought to be the focus of more research) Since Chinese medicine usually has less impact on the body than western medicine (even if various methods for increasing blood circulation to the surface of the skin look intimidating), people often view it as a better first resort, feeling that popping pills will damage their liver and possibly other things and that more natural methods put less strain on the body and encourage it to heal.

Knowing this, I was more interested to go for the experience than from necessarily thinking I was going to feel better quickly. Meeting the man early in the morning (there would be a line out the door, he explained), we walked across the neighborhood to where the clinic was located. As he predicted, even before the metal outer door was rolled up, there were a few elderly people waiting around outside. We decided to grab breakfast first, and by the time we returned, the doctor was seeing patients. My friend taking me to the clinic was a Buddhist (in a more strict sense than most people in Taiwan; he didn't believe in Chinese folk religion, and only followed Buddha, though he wasn't strict enough to be a vegetarian), and as we waited we began discussing religion.

He explained that a saying of Buddha compared religion to a river that various boats could get you across. We found that a difference in the teaching of Jesus and Buddha lay in their attitude toward their own teaching: "Heaven and Earth shall pass away but My words shall not pass away," said Jesus. But the man said that Buddha had predicted there would come a point when no one remembered the way or his teachings. (Anyone reading this who can confirm or refute that is welcome to comment, I couldn't find the reference myself)

Using another analogy, my friend insisted all religions, if not equally helpful, were at least equally valid. "Like us here," he explained. "We're all here to see the doctor, and we all want to be healthy. But the medicine he gives each of us might be different." I nodded. "We are, but using that analogy, we would need to make sure our definition of "healthy" is the same." At that moment, an assistant announced it was our turn to see the doctor. As we walked in, the man addressed the doctor breezily. "Doctor," he said, "we were just having a conversation you might be able to help us with." The doctor turned inquiringly. "What is the definition of health?" my friend asked.

The doctor's eyebrows went up, then he paused with a brief look of panic. One could almost hear him thinking "Oh no, I am supposed to have a good answer for this." He blinked. "Uh, let's... let's see what's wrong with you first." We acquiesced, and my friend continued. "Yes, perhaps health is as simple as the absence of sickness." I disagreed that it could be defined in purely negative terms. As the doctor examined us by carefully feeling our pulse at the wrist, however, he recovered his presence of mind and ended up giving a decently good definition of health by the end.

After taking my pulse he explained gravely that the instability he could feel in my pulse demonstrated that my body had too much "heat" (in Chinese medical theory it doesn't mean your body temperature is too high in a way that would show up on a thermometer), and was also too "humid." He gave me some medicine for my persistent lingering symptoms from the flu, and said as long as I had the excessive heat-humidity condition then summer in Taiwan would be feel even more hot and uncomfortable than usual, but to fix it would take some herbal therapy and dietary adjustments over the long term.

Leaving, we got our medicine in little packets, and I got a page listing all the foods I should avoid that would aggravate the heat-humidity condition. Noticing that it was pretty much everything I enjoyed eating. (from chocolate to curry to mangoes to coffee), I immediately resolved that it was entirely possible my diet was causing this problem, and that I was also not at all willing to correct it.

I would, however, take my medicine. I am used to taking a certain kind of fiber supplement that tastes like tree bark, so the slightly medicinal and bitter taste of the Chinese medicine powder was not a problem. My Taiwanese coworker was one of those people skeptical about Chinese medicine, and expected I wouldn't notice much of anything. However, the medicine had an unexpected effect on me. The packets didn't say what herbs or other ingredients had been mixed together into the powder, but after taking the first one I decided one ingredient must be guarana or powdered caffeine. Not only did my cold symptoms flee, but I found myself humming with energy and unable to sit down. I hadn't expected this at all, but took advantage of the burst of energy to straighten up my apartment.

After that I took a few of the remaining packets as instructed, but slowed down and used the rest as pick me ups for when I was feeling sluggish (easy to happen during Taiwan's rainy spring season, especially during bad allergy days). I still don't know what was in there, but it worked better than any energy drink I've tried.

So that's two pretty normal stories of life here. Want to hear more, or learn more about certain aspects of life here? Leave a comment and let me know!

Tuesday, February 21, 2017

2 Complicated Things I Miss from America

Been doing some hiking recently. Taiwan is full of mountains waiting to be climbed!

As I move into my 4th consecutive year in Taiwan, getting into medium to early-long-term territory, the things that I miss from the US become more abstract, and sometimes more complicated. As an INTP (i.e. a very analytical personality), serving in the well-developed East Asian nation of Taiwan, I don't really care about this or that particular thing from the States (food, etc), or anything I could acquire by hopping on an airplane tomorrow. If I really missed them enough, I could get access to them one way or another, and I know awesome people who would send all sorts of things to me if I asked nicely.

As you will note below, what I miss at this point are not really specific tangible things, or places. It's almost misleading to say they are things I miss "from America," as they aren't particular to that nation per se but related to my life there before coming out to the mission field.

What I miss are certain aspects of life which are absent or changed when one's career is that of full-time cross-cultural missionary service, and which I know are not available to me so long as I follow this path. It's simply the way mission work goes, much of the time, but I have found that aside from helping people see some natural challenges of missionary life, thinking through these kinds of things often brings forth ideas of how to adapt more helpfully to this way of life. Also, there's that slight chance that someone else is in the same situation, and will be encouraged by the sharing.

So, here is a bit of unpacking of two complicated things I've found I miss over the longer-term.

1. The Feeling of Productivity

I have long felt that most people don't like being productive so much as feeling productive. Most people don't particularly like having to wake up on Monday and go to work, for example, but the morning ritual of dragging one's self out of bed, with the shower, the coffee, enduring morning traffic with morning news or talk radio or music or whatever, which plays itself out over years for millions of middle class Americans, has become a sort of de facto rite of passage. You know you are an adult because you wake up early like an adult, dress like an adult, get annoyed at traffic like an adult, and go to the office to do grown-up things. (This is more or less what many younger millennials only half-jokingly call "adulting.")

As more of a task-focused type than a people-person, in my time on the field I have realized that this feeling of productivity, of boxes checked and specific things accomplished, of doing what the world expects from a responsible adult, is more important to me than I'd realized. Though I'm an INTP who prefers to work via flow vs. a rigid schedule, and requires adequate time for contemplation/processing to stay mentally healthy, as an adult man with a fairly serious case of oldest-child syndrome, I feel responsible for everything I'm involved in and need that sense of accomplishment to not feel that I've wasted a day.

The question of whether a day has been productive or wasted in terms of ministry can be complicated, but in general our sense of ongoing productivity tends to come through "xiao chenggong", the "little successes." Small accomplishments and specific tasks done well which give one a sense of progressing towards a goal. (or better yet, measurable progress towards an impressively big yet humanly achievable goal)

It's tough to get that feeling on a church plant. There's no "going in to the office," as I do gospel-centric activities scattered across a Taiwanese city district (a room in the local community center this morning, the lobby of a local business HQ after lunch, my coworker's home in the evening, etc). It's a job for which sitting at a computer is often necessary, planning lessons, putting together presentations, etc, but there is never any clocking in or clocking out. Missions is a 24/7 job, not defined by specific locations or hours. You are never off the clock, there is no time divided between "work" and "my free time." Meeting with a non-believing friend to chat over coffee, spending the same amount of time in a missions school board meeting or leading a Bible study, are all part of the gospel work, and there is simply no system or scale by which one can rate them in terms of "kingdomliness."

So there is a sense in which I am unable to gauge how much I've accomplished in a day, because there isn't anything to compare against. Just having a class or activity go well doesn't mean much. It's good, but it's impossible to exactly what extent I've advanced the cause of the gospel here, or to what extent we've drawn closer to planting a church, when we can only do that when people respond to the gospel message, which is something we can't control. My passion is that Christ be glorified in Taiwan, whereas most people are either literally bowing to statues, have a sort of vague TED-Talk religion of personal goals and giving back to the world, or are simply focused on personal success and comfort. But we can't change hearts, only the Spirit can do that, so we're putting years of time and effort into something we're intrinsically incapable of accomplishing alone. If God doesn't move, we don't see any fruit from our efforts. As an incoming missionary, I thought this meant He definitely would move, but I have discovered in the past couple of years that God does not alter His pace to cater to a human need for a sense of progress. (He may or may not move, and where God moves one usually finds His servants hard at work, but there is no contract where He agrees to move in proportion to how hard we work.)

Breaking new ground for the gospel doesn't always look impressive, then, and sometimes its fruits are only seen in the harvesting that follows at some point much later, sometimes one or multiple generations later. It's like a business in which nearly all the profit is continually invested back into the business itself. Everything may be proceeding according to the business plan, and there may come a day of tearfully glorious success, when it is revealed to have all been worth it all along, but workers may or may not be willing to keep investing in the future profit when it can't be seen now. (Sadly, many missionaries have left Taiwan when fruit seemed too slow in coming, or simply nonexistent. It's a constant struggle to balance the idea that one will see God working visibly when one is in His will, with the fact that He yet often calls us to continue in faith when we can't see the visible signs we feel should be there, all in tension with the knowledge that He works according to His own timing. As Lewis reminds us in the last Narnia book, He's not a tame lion.)

We say we walk by faith, not by sight, but it's quite a challenge to work by faith, not by sight. I am committed to learning how to live and work in this way, and Lord willing, can disciple others to do the same. Humanly speaking, however, some days I do still wish I could clock out after a hard day's work accomplishing measurable goals of one kind or another, and feel that I'd earned some leisure time.


2. Resource-based Solutions

A. When hardware is lacking
America is almost ridiculously blessed with resources. You can throw "stuff" at a problem, equipment, money, etc. and accomplish huge tasks with efficient use of manpower. It's seriously great to live in an economy and society where you can have your own shed, garage, workshop, etc. filled with your own tools, not to mention owning the space necessary to store them. If people weren't burdened under national debt and quasi-socialist tax burdens, and enslaved by entertainment media, the American economy would be incomprehensibly strong. A lot of people could do what they do at their job in half the time, spend some of their pay to buy capital goods, and spend the other half actually producing things of value at their home.

In Taiwan, and pretty much anywhere else in the world I've visited, these kinds of personal resources are scarce. The society isn't wealthy enough for lots of random individual people to acquire and maintain a whole supply of tools in support of their individual interests. Instead those resources are possessed by the wider family or community, sometimes in a less satisfactory way. You don't have the wrench, but Uncle Chen works at a shop which has one you can borrow next week. In Taiwan, the average person in a city doesn't have much living space to spare for tools or anything else, let alone the extra money to put into time-consuming hobbies. (America is wealthy in ways it's hard to recognize unless one has lived abroad in various parts of the world, though that's beginning to change as the middle-class is systematically destroyed and all the extra money siphoned out of society.)

So that's the first half of the problem. Much of the world simply doesn't have the impressive hardware and resources widely available to Americans, so there isn't the option to simply swoop in with the right tools to get the job done quickly and move on to the next one. Specific example: Our summer campground is a very old facility that requires continual maintenance as things break. We can fix them, but it requires time spent away from ministry to do so, and people who actually know how to do the work decently well, who are few and far between and typically otherwise employed. It would be a fun task for many American men, who have a pickup-truck-load of tools just waiting for the right chance to be used, and pride themselves on knowing how to use them to good effect. As an engineer by trade, there are times when I really miss problems which can be solved simply by acquiring the right tools and possessing the know-how.

B. When Physical Resources Can't Help Much Anyway
More to the point, however, in the case of missions and really anywhere one can passionately demonstrate a worthwhile need, there are good, generous people who would love to provide those resources. They will give sacrificially, they will go to considerable lengths to make sure the work of the gospel (or of charity, etc) is not hampered by the relatively straightforward problem of a lack of funds, or resources which can be acquired by said funds.

But there is not really any hardware which can be thrown at the challenge of building gospel relationships in the dense concrete jungle of a Taiwanese urban community, where there is no open field to raise a tent or park some cars, barely even space for a cluster of people to stand outside and avoid cars and scooters passing by; where whatever is done is done in your home or someone else's or a restaurant, to which people must accept an invitation. (Our community center is by far the best public area for events in our vicinity, and there is lots of competition for booking rooms)

There is a sense in which a trip to construct an entire new church building from the foundation up is vanishingly simple compared to the task of trying to disciple a single local believer. I've run cranes and tied rebar and welded steel columns and poured concrete foundations and laid tile and run pipe and done all manner of things necessary for constructing new homes or churches. It's hard work, but at the end of the day, it's done, and you have something to look at and feel that great sense of satisfaction.

But working with people is an entirely different challenge, and one which simply can't be solved with a bunch of physical labor, hardware tools, and enough funds to cover the project. You need to speak the local language well, you need people to be willing to connect with you, you need time in your and their schedule to meet, you need them to be spiritually open, and to slowly build trust with people somewhat suspicious that you're being nice to them while appearing to get nothing out of it yourself, etc.

So when people ask "how can I help," it can be a little frustrating that I don't have a lot of answers. I would love to have some specific request ready like "we need funds for our well-digging project" or "we need help building an addition on our orphanage," etc, but none of those apply in our context. We don't "need" anything in the sense of physical resources, and even more funds don't necessarily translate into being able to do more, since we already lack the manpower to comprehensively follow up on the community outreach we're involved with now. A few very specific things could enhance our work, especially Chinese-language teaching aids with traditional characters (much of what is available is in simplified Chinese, what China uses).

But the majority of what must be done is a long, slow process of building bridges with people and establishing trust, to let them experience God's love and joy, and sustain a long-term burden for them, praying that they too can enter the kingdom and know Christ as we have come to know Him. We need more people to do more follow-up, to meet new people in our community and make friends and build relationships for the sake of the gospel, to open new doors and be a living witness shining in a still-dark place.

Basically, what we need is neither funds nor stuff, what we need is you--to come help in the work of being fishers of men.