epiphany

WHY?!?!?

Why is it that when I need to use the bathroom at school, the cleaning ladies always have it closed off for cleaning? And why do they feel the need to close off the one on the second floor at the same time? Why can't they clean the men's AND women's room on the first floor while leaving the second floor restrooms open and THEN clean the second floor once the first floor is open?

And how in the world can I suggest that to them in Chinese? "Qing ni dasao yige weishengjian. Bu dasao liangge weishengjian ba. Wo xuyao cesuo!" ("Please, you clean one bathroom. Should not clean two bathrooms. I need toilet!")

;-)

Honestly, it is an annoying problem. The next closest bathroom is in another building!

Croaking and Cracking

After another semi-rough night with my newest cold and six hours of teaching today, my voice seems to be on its way out. Since my Senior year of high school, I've tended to lose my voice once each Spring after aquiring some sort of ear and throat malady. Looks like moving to the other side of the planet hasn't helped me break the pattern.

And I'm supposed to give a lecture on movies to the English Corner this Thursday! I've sent a note to my partner warning him that I may not be able to speak. But despite the stress of preparation and talking, I'd kind of like to give this speech. It should be fun.

"Home, no more home to me . . ."

They've done it. They've torn down my favorite restaurants. No more market. No more Roast Place. No more Jiaozi Place. No more Noodle Joint. No more Muslim. No more Wo Ai Wo Jia ("I Love My Home"): aka Noodle Bar, my source of large and inexpensive meals.

Today, more than half of the building itself was gone. And those who've lived here for a while told me that it was only two years old.

Where's a body to eat? The other restaurants take me (gasp) 7-10 minutes to walk to, and now they're really full because of the loss of the closer restaurants.

Decent Sleep; Decent Idea

I slept much better last night--went to sleep around 9:30 and woke up between 5:30 and 6:00. I still have the cold, but it didn't wake me up too often or keep me awake for very long. I can talk fine, which is helpful for teaching.

This week's lesson topic is on Matchmaking. The book talks about modern computer services, but I'm going to have groups of students make a play about an ancient village matchmaker. That should fill a good amount of time and keep me from talking too much. I never would have gotten the idea had I not attended the Beijing Opera on Saturday.

For Sunday

And I heard a great voice out of heaven saying, "Behold, the tabernacle of God is with men, and he will dwell with them, and they shall be his people, and God himself shall be with them, and be their God. And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away." And he that sat upon the throne said, "Behold, I make all things new."

Revelation 21:3-5

Ugh.

I was really sick with a cold last night. I woke up around 1:30 in the midst of fever dreams and have rarely felt as miserable. It reminded me of the night after my surgery last November. I thought there would be no way I could get up this morning, but I'm doing ok now. My ear is still a bit clogged, and I don't feel great. But I'm thankful that the really nasty stuff seems to be past.

The Taming of the Day

Today was supposed to be incredibly full and rather expensive. I was to go to an English bookstore with a friend this morning, to the Beijing Opera this afternoon and to The Return of the King tonight. Well, my schedule (and expenses) thinned out nicely.

I did go to the bookstore this morning. My friend had a student call wanting an English lesson, so he just showed me where the store was. He calls it "the Crypt" because the ceilings are incredibly low. I could probably have touched the fluorescent lighting with the top of my head had I stood on tiptoes. The shop (of sorts) is full of thousands of used American textbooks along with a sampling of fiction. Everything costs twelve yuan or less (eight yuan equal one American dollar). I picked up six books that would have cost somewhere around $15 each for a total of 50 yuan.

At noon I headed downtown with two friends to catch the Beijing Opera performance, which is only given twice a month. From what I'd seen of Beijing Opera on TV, I wasn't really looking forward to it, but I thought I should go because it would be a good cultural experience and a nice time with friends. How often do you get invited to an opera? Of course, this isn't quite like opera as we Westerners know it. The people are heavily made up and costumed. Most of the characters (and players) are men. And many of the men sing in screechy mock-castrato voices. Imagine a cat fight to someone scratching their fingers across a blackboard. Then make it loud. That was my TV experience of Beijing Opera.

The real thing, I'm glad to say, was quite enjoyable. The Chinese girl who invited us said that she thought today's show was geared toward a foreign audience, but it was still fun. Or maybe that's why it was fun. Anyway, we saw three plays, only one and a half of which had singing (which was about as bad as on television, only louder!). There was a good amount of talking, but all the characters are so broadly charactured that it wasn't too hard to follow what was going on. I actually understood some of what they were saying.

In the first play, a large man dressed in black with a black and white face and long beard apparently told a servant to go kill his young princely master. The servant (who was quite comical) went at night and broke into the guy's house. The lighting didn't change at all, but it wasn't hard to tell that it was night. The two characters groped around in the dark and had an elaborate sword and kung-fu fight, continually missing each other because they couldn't see. Only if a sword, fist or face came within inches of the other person's eyes could he see it. It was really cool. At the end the big black man joined in, so there were three people fighting although each person thought there was only one opponent. Everything got straightened out once the servant went for a candle. I'm not sure why they all seemed to be friends in the end.

The second play had a lot of singing and dialogue and was a love story. It was a little bit harder to follow (Lena, the Chinese girl, corrected us on several points afterward). The girl was tidying up her place and herding (?) chickens when the boy came to call. He started singing to her in the high screechy voice, and she answered in something of an extended squeal. He gave her a jade bracelet, which she tenderly and lovingly howled about. In the meanwhile, the village matchmaker (who we all thought was her mother and who was played by a man--at least I hope it was a man) was watching in the background. After the boy left the matchmaker came to visit the girl and tried to get the girl to show her the bracelet and tell her who it was from. Eventually she let on that she had seen the whole thing, and the girl was embarrassed but still coy. It was really funny. Especially the singing. I had to bite my hand to keep from guffawing.

The third play was an episode from the life of the Monkey King, the ultimate simean superhero of Chinese folklore. The Monkey King is very clever and magically powerful, so the other gods continually get jealous of him or angry with his hyjinks and try to put him in his place. The Monkey King almost always wins in the end, and today was no disappointment for him. He took on a variety of gods, sometimes four or more at a time, in a series of epic and acrobatic kung-fu battles. You really had to see it to believe all the tricks they pulled off on stage: sword fights, sword juggling among four people (one of whom, the Monkey King, was catching and tossing them using a staff instead of his hands), catching swords and spinning them in mid-air around the staff, tossing a sword into the air and catching it in its sheath, not to mention the actual fighting/ballet moves. It was breathtaking, a grand introduction to Beijing Opera. I'd gladly go again.

As for The Return of the King, when Tim went to the theater to buy the tickets this morning, they told him there wasn't any English showing today, even though on Thursday they had said that there would be (though they couldn't tell him the time of the Saturday showing when he called Thursday). While I wouldn't mind seeing the movie again on the big screen, I'm not exactly disappointed that the day isn't quite as full as it was supposed to be. My throat and ears are feeling a little sick, so it's probably good that I won't need to be out late.

So how was your day?

Knowing Charlie

There's a seven-year-old boy who comes to my sanda class. He plays the violin. His English is terrific. And his name is Charlie. Charlie has decided to become my friend.

His first night of sanda was my third night. Since I'm the tall white guy, I naturally draw a little attention. I was practicing my punching (the only thing I knew how to do at the time), and Charlie came over to copy what I was doing. Suddenly he asked me, "Where are you from?" with very little accent. I told him I was from America. Then he asked, "Where are you from in America?" I was shocked. Never do you get a follow up question, at least in English. I told him that my home was near Chicago. That evening I would ask him questions in Chinese, and he would answer in English. He has better conversational skill and command of vocabulary than most of my grad students. He's also quite willing to help me with Chinese words and some grammar.

Charlie has a game that we play occasionally. If he walks past me to get some water or a snack, he'll throw a fake punch or kick, and I react appropriately. Sometimes I dodge it and "hit" him back. He'll act dizzy or swing his head like he just got smacked. Last night he acted out his teeth falling out, "like the cartoon cat and mouse," Tom and Jerry.

At the end of last night's grueling session (I was learning a new kick combination. My legs hurt in places that I didn't know had either muscles or nerves), the teacher made some of us lie on our stomachs while other guys stepped on our legs, butt or back to vibrate them and loosen them back up. It sounds weird, but it felt great: my legs were horribly tight. Charlie lay down facing me, and we chatted.

I asked what he was going to do on Saturday, and he said that he has a computer class (Chinese kids go to school nearly every day of the week in hopes of getting ahead and getting a good job someday). I told him that I was planning to meet a friend from England in the morning, see a Beijing Opera performance in the afternoon and watch The Return of the King with some friends in the evening. I told him the movie name in Chinese, and he was quite excited. I told him that it was good but pretty scary.

He asked me if I like Harry Potter, and I told him yes. He said that he really likes Harry Potter, but "when I watch the movie, I cry because it's scary." I love how straightforward he is. It's easy to forget that he's just a little kid when you're talking to him.

Leaving Me, Loving You

I saw my first full-length Chinese movie in a theater last night, "Leaving Me, Loving You" (unless that should be translated "Leaving Me Loving You"). I was duped into going by some friends who said they were going to "The Return of the King" (which is actually showing in English and whose Chinese title is "King of the Ring: The King Comes Back/Will Come"). When we arrived at the theater, the two girls who had gone ahead to buy tickets said, "Oh, we didn't think the choice was settled, and since we've already seen RotK, we thought we'd watch a Chinese girly flick" (not their exact words).

Now, if I spoke Chinese even remotely well, I imagine that the movie would have been somewhat good. Not speaking Chinese and thereby missing all of the main plot, I didn't have the best of times.

Chinese theaters are interesting. Your seat is assigned and relatively immovable (the usher was most distressed that I was sitting in seat 4 of my row while one of my friends was sitting in seat 7, the one listed on my ticket). There are no trailers: the movie starts at the exact time listed on the ticket. People talk on their cell phones or with their friends throughout the showing, some fairly hushed, some not. People bring their suppers with them.

The music seemed to be lifted from other movies or classical pieces. I don't think I had ever heard as many arrangements of "Moon River" as I did in the course of the one movie. Some woman also sang "All I wanna do is make love to you" after the guy hung a door for the girl and left. There were two Chinese songs as well.

The movie itself was something like a Tom Hanks/Meg Ryan movie, I think. There was a pretty, young lady whose job had something to do with event management who broke up with the leading man sometime prior to the story's opening, from what I could tell. The guy really liked her, found where she'd moved to in Shanghai, and moved in across the street. I think the guy's grandfather died during the movie, but I'm not certain. At the end, the couple is finally and inexplicably (from a visual standpoint) reunited for a kiss as fireworks erupt over the city.

Music, Sex and God

Over the brief years of my conscious life, my views on music have altered drastically. I've pretty much always loved classical music (including movie scores). I enjoy kiddie songs and various ethnic folk music forms. And I've come to find some real gems among modern music, including rock.

Yes, for those of you who haven't seen or talked to me in a couple of years, I have found some redeeming qualities to modern popular music.

I'm not saying I love all the music that's out there. I tend to be pretty picky. Like most things, you have to know where to look to find the good stuff. Most classical music is not really terrific, which is why it doesn't survive despite various record labels attempting to lure niche market audiences for obscure composers. Many songs in our hymnals are not that good, and there were undoubtedly significantly more of them that mercifully faded from human memory over the years. ("There's a demon in the cup/Dash it down/Dash it down . . .")

Like many things, people often argue about music more in the realm of opinion and personal preference than through genuine understanding/philosophy or (in the case of Christians) Biblical theology. I have heard numerous sermons on the evils of various kinds of modern popular music. I know of several influential books on the matter. I realize that most people have their minds made up one way or the other and are actually unwilling (and therefore unable) to change their position, sometimes for legitimate reasons or misunderstandings, sometimes simply because each of us is proud and dislikes admitting error. I know that's true of me.

Where I Was

For many years, I was a staunch opponent of modern popular musics (which I'll just call "rock" for the sake of simplicity, even though that label is actually more limited than my meaning and could be misleading), Christian or non. I was actually more opposed to rock used by Christians than the rock of non-believers.

The way my mind works, I need to have a strong logical foundation for what I think and believe, and I knew that the sermons and reasoning I had heard against rock were seriously deficient. The primary arguments used against it in Fundamentalist circles (the church group with which I am most familiar) are that it is 1) of a lesser quality than classical music; 2) associated with rebellion and sexuality; and 3) violates the "new song principle" (Psalm 40:3).

I knew that #1 was a matter of technical judgment, which I was not able or prepared to handle at the time. I could see that #3 was actually a gross misinterpretation of Scripture. The Psalm says that "he put a new song in my mouth, even praise to our God." The Bible does not tell us what the sound was like, simply that the psalmist had gone from what must have been a lack of praise to praise. Judging from Scripture alone, the new song is praising God, not necessarily a particular style or fashion of praising God.

#2 is where I took my stand. As I began to study music, I could indeed find sexual aspects to it. I wrote quite a long e-mail (of which I no longer have a copy) to a group of friends about the sexuality of music--rock in particular--and its subsequent impropriety and evil when used in the worship of God. Sex was used in the worship of pagan deities, not the true God. The interesting thing was that I could find all of the same "sexual" sounds and functions even in highly conservative modern church music. The primary difference between conservative music and CCM was that CCM used a drum. The rhythms, dissonance structures and functions, and--most importantly for my ears, since they are the source of the tension/release pattern of music--harmonic rhythms were all similar to rock. So I rejected even conservative modern church music as usable in the worship of God (or in the life of a believer, since it was an expression of sexuality).

I still believe that this is the only viable argument against the music itself.

However, in the name of honesty, I will admit that I was struggling fiercely with many sexual troubles at that time. Sex was a primary enemy in my mind, and I felt that all expressions of sexuality were genuinely evil, apart from married procreation, of which I still disliked the idea and questioned God's wisdom. I was blinded and biased by my own sin and heard evil in everything that I did not like or that made me recognize my body. I can now recall and verify the accuracy of the Bible: "Unto the pure, all things are pure: but unto them that are defiled and unbelieving, nothing is pure; but even their mind and conscience is defiled" (Titus 1:15). Because of the evil in my own heart, I saw (and heard) evil in everything around me.

However, after admitting my need, finding some help and receiving a better understanding of the Gospel, I began to see some of the errors in various areas of my life, including my understanding of music. I'm guessing that some of my friends still have difficulties in these areas, which is why I'm trying to lay down a reasonable and I hope Biblical explanation for my openness to different kinds of music.

Music Is a Tool

Music is a tool. Like any tool, it can be used for good or evil. I can use a shovel to dig a well, or I can use it to hit someone on the head. The tool is not the moral thing: the shovel does not become good or evil because of the way I use it. The way I use the tool reveals what is in my heart, in this case, either constructive work or murder. As a tool, music, like a shovel, can be used for good or evil.

However, music is definitely more complex a tool than a shovel. Music is a communicative art. It does carry a message in some ways, something which a normal tool does not do. The main component, perhaps the only component, of the message carried in music itself is emotion. Music suggests to us how to feel about something. Apart from the addition of lyrics, music cannot communicate specifically. It simply gives a general impression. It may communicate martial feelings, seriousness or danger, sexual feelings or simple childish comedy, among many possibilities. The composer and performer express the message. It is up to the audience to receive and respond to the message.

This is one place where Titus 1:15 comes into play. Since the message of music is vague at best, being strictly emotional, various people will receive the message in different ways. Some, like me several years ago, will hear evil intent in it. Some will hear nothing much but another song or tune. Some will hear beauty or truth and will thank God. The listener responds with what is in his or her heart (Matthew 15:15-20).

So music is a communicative tool, but it is largely up to the listener to determine or interpret the message of the music. In my own music, I hear a lot of struggle and pain. I intentionally write it that way. But other people have told me that my music always sounds joyous to them. Obviously, we are hearing different things. They are taking a message from the music that is suitable to their own desires and experience of life. What we hear depends on who we are inside.

Now if the message is made explicit through lyrics, we have another level of communication to deal with, and a much easier one. As believers, we simply have to judge the text according to our understanding of Scripture. Is it true or lovely or pure, etc.? The text doesn't necessarily have to meet all the criteria (truth is not always lovely), but it should be a sound message. It does not have to be an explicitly Christian message (see The Song of Solomon). Different people may be conscience-bound at different places on this issue, but that need not divide us if all are truly desiring to walk in faith.

Godly Sexuality

Sex and sexuality are very serious issues in the church today. We in the Body of Christ have ignored our bodies for too long, maintaining the overly protective Victorian (Puritan is not necessarily a correct description, though some would prefer it) veil far longer than the rest of society. As a result our people are succumbing to the increasing openness of our culture regarding sexuality by falling into perversion.

Like the shovel, like music, sex and sexuality--the body itself--are tools, God-given tools. They may be used for his glory and our benefit or for evil and our own destruction. As believers, we should definitely maintain a sense and practice of modesty. However, we need not fear our bodies or our sexuality. Rather, we should use it as God apparently intended, as a reflection of his own goodness. Masturbation, fornication, adultery, homosexuality--all are a twisting of God's gift. Men and women were made in the image of God, and all things about us should reflect his goodness. The nature of God is to give, not to take. Therefore, true sex ought to be a committed giving of oneself. Society treats sex as a fulfillment of one's desires, a simple animal pleasure and instinct. While sex is certainly pleasurable, personal pleasure is not the exclusive or primary goal.

I am not saying that sex is merely procreative. It is also for pleasure, but that pleasure is not only physical but also spiritual/emotional. It is the complete, unreserved giving of oneself, not for what we can get from the other person, but because there is nothing more that we can truly offer to him or her. Sexual perversions are sinful because they are not a true giving, not a seeking of the other person's good. Sex for the fulfillment of physical desire alone is a taking, not a giving, an abuse of another person made in God's image. If we engage in sex simply to satisfy our own desires, we do indeed reduce it to animal nature and instinct. But since God has given us both the minds capable of controlling ourselves and the gifts of emotion and love, we may offer ourselves in sex, not merely steal pleasure from the other person. The only true way to offer oneself wholly is a permanent commitment, normally called marriage (though marriage itself has suffered much abuse and is generally no longer viewed as permanent). And a committed giving of oneself in sex would also involve a taking of responsibility by both parties for the natural potential result of the activity, that of childbearing and -rearing. For love is responsible.

But what does this have to do with music? The point is that our bodies are not evil, and a bodily response is not necessarily evil, either. If music makes me tap my feet or dance, that physical action is not a revelation of evil in the music. It is a revelation of who I am inside. How I respond comes from who I am inside.

Some people believe that dancing is evil. The reason most often given is that dancing is sensual (meaning sexual) or leads to (extramarital) sex. I believe that this idea comes from an improper understanding of sexuality and our bodies.

The Goodness of the Body

Many of our people seem to have an unspoken belief that the body is evil or in some way inferior to the spirit. We often speak of "inhabiting" our bodies for a while and "training" our bodies as though the body is separate from the person. It is difficult to avoid such language. But due to how we are made--and God described man as "very good" at creation--we cannot truly separate the body from the spirit without losing the person. A body without a spirit is a corpse, not a person. A spirit without a body is a non-entity as far as physical senses are concerned. To be whole and truly and fully human, one must have both a body and a spirit. They function together to create a person. My spirit without my body is no more "me" than my dead body is a full expression of who I am.

Some may object that the Bible speaks of "putting off this body" and of Scripture "dividing between soul and spirit, joints and marrow." Paul also speaks of making his body submit to his mind. I do not deny those passages. But for practical life, for the everyday reality of who I am, it is useless to divide the body and spirit. God made us as a unity of spiritual and physical realities. We are unique in creation this way. Animals, as far as we know, do not have an eternal spirit. Angels are spirits and do not appear to have physical bodies most of the time. God is a spirit and does not have a body like man (apart from Jesus).

Also, we must consider that fact that the Bible promises believers a "new body." When discussing our future in heaven, Paul describes our present life as a seed. When it comes to fruition, when we are fully awake to God in the next life, our seed will have grown into something new. Just like an oak tree looks nothing like an acorn, our new bodies may be nothing like our present ones. But the fact remains that they will indeed be bodies, and it appears that we will continue to have bodies for all of eternity. A body is not evil or somehow "below" or subordinate to who we are. The actions we do with our bodies reflect and reveal who we are.

That said, a physical response to music is not inherently sexual or sinful. Humanity is wired to respond to sound. That is the purpose of our ears and the various nerves that carry the signals to our brains. Our brains interpret the sound as something dangerous, neutral or positive, and we as individuals respond accordingly. If we hear a loud noise, we instinctively turn to see the source of the sound in order to avoid potential danger. If we listen to someone speak, we may nod in agreement with their words. If we hear music, we may respond with movement that fits the sounds.

No one fears the tapping of feet to a march or the waving of arms like a conductor to the sounds of a symphony. We recognize these things as natural (and neutral) responses. But when we involve more of the body, we begin to fear ourselves. We fear that we will lose control of who we are, meaning that we fear to lose control of who we want others to think we are. Whether or not we respond outwardly does not alter who we are inwardly. But if we are truly in Christ and seeking to follow and enjoy him and his gifts, we do not need to fear our response, even our bodily response, for our response will be truly Christian. David danced when he brought the Ark of the Covenant back to Israel, and none of the priests or prophets condemned him; only his wife did. Miriam and the women of Israel danced after the Egyptian army drowned, and neither Moses nor God called judgment upon them or even rebuked them. Jesus gave a parable condemning the apathetic, giving the example of children playing music to which their friends refuse to dance.

We need not fear to dance unless we fear our response. If we are committedly following Christ, we need not fear our response.

A Question of Rebellion

Having considered sexuality, the body and our responses, I find little to fear in an intelligent and Christian exploration of rock music. Some may ask, "But what about its openly avowed expression of rebellion?" That is a good question.

First, let me point again to the individual interpretation inherent in the message of music. Because music is a vague communicator, we do not always hear the message that the composer or performer intends to convey in his music. Additionally, the hearer must have rebellion in his or her heart in order to respond with an attitude of rebellion. The music could have been intended for evil but ended up being heard as something good in the heart of the believer.

Second, when "rebellion" becomes the prominent movement, it is no longer truly rebellion but simply an expression of dissatisfaction (who is it rebelling against? Rock in the broad sense of the term has become the musical Establishment). It is like the Levi's jeans commercials of the early 1990's: "be an individual: wear Levi's jeans just like all the other individuals around you." Individuality through sameness; rebellion through establishment forms. It has become a normal mode of expression and therefore does not carry a strong message that a small and different group may convey.

Third, not all rebellion is sinful. There are times in the Old Testament when the Israelites rebelled against their oppressors, and God honored and helped them. When there is a legitimate problem, constructive rebellion, that is, rebellion that seeks and is motivated by a desire for positive change, may be a good thing. And depending on which side of the problem you are on, you may not see yourself as rebelling! Those who oppose change often declare change-inducers to be rebels even when those labeled "rebels" have no evil intent.

Where That Leaves Me

(I have not addressed the quality argument because I believe it is a straw man: I have heard many technically and theoretically excellent rock pieces, both Christian and non. And I know of technically poor classical pieces and hymns.)

If the body and sexuality, used correctly, are not evil and auditory rebellion is somewhat or even largely subjective, the main arguments against rock fall apart. The real issue becomes not the external thing, the rock music, but my response to that music. And this is truly where the problems and preaching should have pointed over the past few decades of argument and strife.

In some ways, we have both created and perpetuated a problem. By maintaining a strict (and unbiblical) separation from rock, we have in some measure prevented positive influences in and limited the creation of constructive communication via this medium. Additionally, we have created "rebellion" where none may have existed by placing something legitimate off-limits. I have heard Christians say that people who become involved in rock inevitably continue down the road into heavier and Biblically-defined sins. But in that case, could it not be that the unbiblical prohibition caused the individual to begin a path into sin when the first step was not actually sin? Perhaps the prohibition injured or seared a weak conscience. Another way we could look at it is that we perpetuate the rebellious association of rock within the Christian community by making it an easy or obvious way for individuals to express their rebellion: people call this music rebellious; therefore, I will demonstrate my rebellion by listening to this music. This example once again demonstrates that the music itself is not rebellious; the listener's heart is. The music has become a means, a tool, to reveal a negative attitude.

But what can we do when the listener doesn't have an evil intent? What if his heart is purified in Christ and hears only good aspects of the music? And how can we determine that? The truth is, we cannot know another person's heart apart from his actions. And we usually cannot know the truth of another's actions without an extended period of observation. Therefore, we are forced to allow openness within the Body in this issue. When the person's actions violate clear and genuine Scriptural commands, other believers may get involved. Until that occurs, however, we ought to assume the best in an attitude of love and respect for the child of God.

Rock and the Church

Some will say that rock (in one form or another) is acceptable for the believer in private but not in a church setting. Each church must determine what is acceptable for itself and walk in accordance and continual self-examination just as individual believers ought to do. However, I do not believe that a blanket rejection of rock in each church is necessarily good, wise or safe.

People often divide their lives between who they are at church and who they are at home, another outworking of our mistaken practice of dividing the body and spirit. However, in Christ our lives are united. Who we are in public is the same as who we are in private. Who we are at home ought to be identical to the person we are at church. We cannot rightly divide our private practices and opinions from our public selves without the risk of splintering our persons and causing inner turmoil. A Christian is a Christian all the time, regardless of his or her location or environment. All that we do, whether expressly for the Church or God or for our friends or ourselves, is in Jesus and through him. He is the one who receives the glory or bears the shame.

If that is true, then what we listen to in private is just as much a worship and living of Christ as what we listen to at church. If we cannot listen to or participate in rock in the public worship of God, how can it be acceptable in private? Or if we find it acceptable in private, how can we completely reject its use in public? (I'm neither advocating an abandoning of older songs and hymns nor promoting the performance of any and all kinds of rock in church, simply arguing for what I believe to be an acceptable diversity.) Jesus is the lord and Saviour of the common man, not just the intellectually astute or cultural elite. God speaks to his people through both the creation around them and their common language (hence the Hebrew, Aramaic and street Greek of the Bible). Cannot he speak through their common musical language? And why must we assume a different, more learned language simply because of our location?

It is true God and deserves our utmost respect and honor, but he is also our Father who allows us freely into his presence (and would seem to prefer that we remain there). We need to look at how much of our practice is truly honor and respect and how much is simply tradition. Does our practice actually divide God from our daily lives? Are we continuing or encouraging the division of the believer's church persona and private persona?

In Conclusion

I realize this is a lot of material to think about and consider. I have been thinking about it for a long time, some of it for years. Perhaps some arguments one way or another come quickly to your mind. Perhaps you can find some faults in my reasoning or application of Scripture. That's fine, and while it may initially hurt, I would appreciate knowing the problems with my thinking.

I am not attempting to force anyone or any organization to change. But I would encourage you to think about what I have said and see how it applies to your own life. The main point is that external things do not corrupt you. They simply help to reveal who you are. How do you respond to external things? Is your response truly Christian, or does it possibly reveal sin or weak spots in your own growth in Christ? Each of us needs to examine our own lives and then, as believers, turn again to Jesus trusting for faith, forgiveness and renewal.

For Sunday

I'd just like to say that Mars Hill is the best church ever. I've been listening to their series on I Timothy and am continually reminded of how thankful I am for the positive influence the people have had on my life. In lieu of my normal Bible passage for the day, I thought I'd share the lyrics of one of my favorite MH songs:

The Glory of God

What can I give to you, my Lord,
For you are of infinite worth.
The sum of my songs, the cry of my heart,
The breath that descends to earth.

The deepest parts of the universe
Are not strangers to your hand.
The highest mountains, the furthest of seas,
The forgotten and untold lands.

There's a song that is sung
By the saints who have come and have gone
From under the sun.
Those that are present before your thone
Sing endlessly
The glory of God!

Praise and glory and wisdom and thanks
And honor and power and strength
Be to our God forever and ever and ever, Amen.

What can I give unto you, my Lord,
For you are of infinite worth?
The sum of my songs, the cry of my heart
The breath that descends to earth.

What cry can the deepest of sorrow bring
That you do not well understand?
What laugh can the outburst of joy not sing
Of the providence wrought by your hand?

There's a song that is sung
By the saints who have come and have gone
From under the sun.
Those that are present before your thone
Sing endlessly
The glory of God!

Praise and glory and wisdom and thanks
And honor and power and strength
Be to our God forever and ever and ever, Amen.

--Joe Day, (O)

Beautiful Day

After some really cold weather earlier this week, today has been absolutely beautiful. The wind is a bit cool, but wind is hard to escape in Dalian. Some green is peeking through the charred front lawns. And I saw my first butterfly of the season late this morning! Spring must actually be on its way.

Tonight My Sleep Will Be Restless

I've had a lot of odd dreams lately, dreams that I can remember. Part of that is undoubtly because I haven't been sleeping very well. But a lot of them are just plain strange.

Quite a few of my dreams over the last two weeks have had a similar ending. I hear myself saying or thinking, "Wait until Dad hears about this. He'll love it!" Shortly after that I think, "Oh wait. He's dead." Then I wake up.

Some of the dreams have been fairly comic, knowingly surreal yet entirely believable while I'm in them. For instance, on Wednesday evening I dreamed that I was back at BJU helping the school get ready for an artist series featuring U2. I was taking some photos for them and basically shadowing Bono, who was trying his best to keep his language under control, knowing that he would be performing for a rather conservative audience. I couldn't figure out why in the world the school brought in U2, but I was looking forward to the concert. I remember thinking that quite a few of my friends would probably say they were "grieved" by the performance, especially since they hadn't particularly appreciated the Three Irish Tenors, which was a concert I had missed. In real life, I hadn't actually listened to any U2 songs for a while, so I broke out a DVD and watched part of a concert on Wednesday evening.

Last night I dreamed that I had taken several of my friends from China to my house in Seattle. Apparently it was Thanksgiving. I was really excited to see everyone and felt like I do when I watch Fellowship of the Ring when Frodo finds his friends and Bilbo in Rivendell. I've been imagining that's what heaven will be like: amazing reunions with people long gone, like you're waking up from a bad dream. It was great. Drew and Lisa were there along with the rest of the community group. They were showing me changes to the place, and I was showing my friends where my room was and different things we used to do together. We went upstairs to see Graham and Merideth and then out back onto the much expanded upper deck where they had a huge number of people (who said they were relatives) seated for supper. It felt awfully summer-y for Thanksgiving, but that's all I could figure out for an event of that size. Strange thing was, I never actually saw Graham and Merideth. I saw people that looked like them, but I didn't find them. I think they were about to come out to the deck when I woke up.

How to Stomp Your Own Head

or "SanDa: Lesson 5"

Wednesdays are very tiring for me. I have a Chinese lesson on Tuesday afternoons and another one on Wednesday mornings. The classes are exhausting as we've begun having more and more of the time in Chinese only. Basically, brain-fry puts me into a mildly cranky mood, and I don't want to do much else the rest of the day.

But I figured that going to sanda would probably help me out.

I arrived around 5:00, and a few of the other students were there. They're beginning to speak to me (or at least to try). Some of them are brave enough to attempt English, which always helps me a lot. We didn't start running until 5:20 or so, so I used some of the exercise machines while I waited.

Once we finished running and the various marching-punching drills, I assumed my normal place in front of the mirror and began punching. Being tired and a little cranky, I didn't feel much like spending an hour practicing my two punches. The teacher came by and corrected the people all around me and left to teach the advanced students something. He came back and corrected the others yet again. I was getting bored and asked God to please let me learn something new. Shortly after that, the teacher came back, corrected the others, and then told me that my punching was very good. It was time to start kicking.

He tried to show me what to do, but I didn't do it very well. He then stomped on the ground and indicated that that was the idea of this particular kick. I had a lot of trouble getting my leg high enough, but he said it was ok. After I had practiced in front of the mirror for a while, the teacher came back and said I wasn't doing it right. He took me aside and told me to punch him. I did the standard punch, and he gently kicked me. Basically, this kick allows you to lean back just out of punching range and hit your opponent while his arms aren't guarding his stomach. Depending on how high you can get your leg and how well you aim, you could attack your opponent's chest, stomach or groin. He then held up a boxing glove and had me kick it. Once I had that right, I spent the rest of the class marching back and forth across the mat doing the kick.

After a short but exhausting while of marching and kicking, I noticed two more mirrors on either end of the mat where I was marching. I decided that the best way for me to practice getting my leg high enough (remember, I'm not exactly flexible) would be to try to stomp the reflection of my head. I think it helped a lot, and the teacher seemed pleased with my progress.

I slept fairly well last night and had only a little soreness this morning. This afternoon, however, I noticed that it's become increasingly difficult to climb the stairs. My legs don't really hurt, but they're a bit mutinous when it comes to moving right now. Tomorrow should be really interesting.

Happy St. Patrick's Day

Green is definitely lacking over here today. The hill is brown. The dust is brown. The lawns are black or brown (depending on if the workers have burned your yard yet). The buildings are gray and brown. The construction scaffolds are orange or brown. And the tree wraps are--you guessed it--red, white and blue.

You'd think the Chinese would have a little more respect for the man who brought Christianity to Ireland. ;-)

Being Protestant, I wanted to wear an orange shirt along with my green pants today (being ecuminical isn't always bad). However, Siberia decided to howl back into town overnight. Since I don't have a sweater to match my orange shirt, I figured I'd just have to run the risk of offending my Free Pres friends. So today I'm wearing my long-sleeve, dark green polo shirt along with khaki pants. And my big green winter coat. And carrying a green plastic bottle that used to hold green tea (but now holds water). For those who care to know, neither my socks nor my underwear are green today. I guess my shoes are kind of orange.

Last week several of the teachers were talking about going bungee jumping at the biggest city park in celebration of the day. How diving from a way-too-tall platform with a stretchy cord wrapped around your ankles reflects the character of the day is beyond me. Maybe it has to do with faith. And based on what I've seen of the construction and safety standards throughout the city, you'd need a lot of faith to go bungee jumping in China.

While part of my character is to unexpectedly do things that seem out of character for me, I've pretty firmly decided that bungee jumping is a little to extreme. (So no worries, Mom.)

Of course, if it warms up and the wind dies down that might be another story.

Fishing for Suggestions

Since my main camera lens broke, I've been considering buying a digital camera. We can get pretty much any brand over here, but I don't know which models are good and which ones rot.

Does anyone have any favorites or suggestions?

The Burnin' o' the Green

If you stopped by my school right now, you would undoubtedly be impressed by the thick black lawn out front. Yes, that's right. It's black. Well, black with flecks of brown. But I'm sure they'll fix that brown stuff shortly.

Apparently the way that the Chinese deal with their lawns after winter is to burn them. Everywhere you go right now in Dalian, you'll see workers out burning lawns. Parks, private property--it doesn't matter. If it's brown and grassy-looking, they'll burn it (watch out all you dish-water blondes)!

And we complain about polution in Western countries. Imagine what would happen if Chicago, Atlanta or Seattle tried to burn their lawns. Of course, there are a lot more private lawns in American cities than over here.

In other news, the weather's been a bit warmer. Technically, today was supposed to be the last day with heat, but there's still quite a pile of coal at the heating plant next door. Hopefully with the weather change and remaining fuel it won't be too cold from here out. I haven't had to use my wall heater in the mornings lately, so that's been nice.

For Sunday

"As I looked,

Thrones were set in place,
and the Ancient of Days took his seat.
His clothing was as white as snow;
the hair of his head was white like wool.
His throne was flaming with fire,
and its wheels were all ablaze.
A river of fire was flowing,
coming out from before him.
Thousands upon thousands attended him;
ten thousand times ten thousand stood before him.
The court was seated,
and the books were opened."

"In my vision at night I looked, and there before me was one like a son of man, coming with the clouds of heaven. He approached the Ancient of Days and was led into his presence. He was given authority, glory and sovereign power; all peoples, nations and men of every language worshiped him. His dominion is an everlasting dominion that will not pass away, and his kingdom is one that will never be destroyed."

Daniel 7:9-10, 13-14

Me in Politics?

What Classic Movie Are You?.

Not that I can get girls like the picture!

Hard to Get

"You who live in heaven,
Hear the prayers of those of us who live on earth,
Who are afraid of being left by those we love,
And who get hardened in the hurt.
Do you remember what it's like
To live where we all scrape
To find the faith to ask for daily bread.
Did you forget about us
After you had gone away?
Well, I memorized every word you said.
Still, I'm so scared I'm holding my breath
While you're up there just playing hard to get.

"You who live in radience,
Hear the prayers of those of us who live in skin.
We have a love that's not as patient as yours was,
But we do love now and then.
Did you ever know lonliness?
Did you ever know need?
Do you remember just how long a night can get
When you are barely holding on
And your friends fall asleep
And don't see the blood that's running in your sweat?
Will those who mourn be left uncomforted
While you're up there just playing hard to get?

"And I know you bore our sorrows.
And I know you feel our pain.
And I know that it would not hurt any less
Even if it could be explained.
And I know that I am only lashing out
At the one who loves me most.
And after I have figured this out
All I really need to know is if

"You who live in eternity
Hear the prayers of those of us who live in time,
Who can't see what's ahead and who cannot get free
From what we've left behind.
I'm reeling from these voices that keep ringing in my ears,
All these words of pain and doubt, shame and regret.
I can't see how you're leading me
Unless you've led me here,
Where I'm lost enough to let myself be led.
And so you've been here all along, I guess.
It's just you're ways and you
Are just plain hard to get."

--Rich Mullins

Ever have one of those really long, really bad days? Yesterday was like that. The weather was strange; I was unusually tired (for no good reason) both mentally and physically; I had a big argument with a friend who was trying to help me understand something.

I first heard this song by Rich Mullins on the way back to school after my dad's funeral. It's honesty really struck me, and it tends to come back whenever my life seems messed up. Last night after sanda (which was the one part of my day that went well), I was practicing my guitar and decided to figure out how to play it. I'm not good at it yet, but I think it's going to become a regular part of my practice sessions. If you'd like to hear the song, pick up Rich Mullin's Jesus Record, which is well worth owning. It's a two-disc set, and I prefer Rich's spare solo version on the "Jesus Demos" disk, recorded just three weeks before he died.

Walk On

What Famous Leader Are You?.

A Mostly Normal Day

One of our teachers has a bunch of visitors from her hometown here today. A couple of them sat in on my first class this morning, which made my lesson easier. I gave the students time to ask them questions toward the end of the hour, so that filled up the last fifteen minutes or so for me. One girl in particular asked some really interesting questions. She's hoping to study abroad next year, so I imagine that she's really intrigued about life outside China.

Tonight I'll be going out to supper with the group and some Chinese friends. Maxwell will be there, so I should have a fun time even though I'm not a great conversationalist with new people. Maxwell and I went downtown on Saturday afternoon looking for a guitar case and some shoes better suited to sanda. We had supper at Pizza Hut, which Maxwell thought was "luxurious." The Pizza Hut here is pretty nice, but Maxwell's skilled at overreacting. He's a great guy.

For Sunday

"All who rely on observing the law are under a curse, for it is written: 'Cursed is everyone who does not continue to do everything written in the Book of the Law.' Clearly no one is justified before God by the law, because, 'The righteous will live by faith.' The law is not based on faith; on the contrary, 'The man who does these things will live by them.' Christ redeemed us from the curse of the law by becoming a curse for us, for it is written: 'Cursed is everyone who is hung on a tree.' He redeemed us in order that the blessing given to Abraham might come to the Gentiles through Christ Jesus, so that by faith we might receive the promise of the Spirit."

Galatians 3:10-14

SanDa: Lesson Two

I went to my second SanDa lesson last night. We didn't run nearly as much, but I did have more of a chance to try to talk to some of the other participants. They, of course, say they don't speak English while urging me on with statements like "Yes, yes," "good," and "no." Most of their Chinese seems to have a really strong accent ("shyoo-shee" vs. "shyoh-shi"--highly confusing as a beginner, especially when you've been using another similar word, "shway-shee," with them), and they don't seem to understand that they need to speak slowly to me (not that I can tell them that). There was a girl there, Theresa, who speaks English quite well and chatted with me for a while.

Unfortunately, partway through my renewed punching lesson, I noticed that my eyes were going funny. Parts of the room were disappearing with little running rainbow lines around their edges. Lucky me, I was getting my first migraine of the year. My vision cleared after a while, and the full strength of the headache never really set it, though I still have a dull aching over my right eye.

I want to go back tonight for my third lesson (I'm now a card-carrying member fo the SanDa class), but it's probably smarter to skip it. :-( I even struggled through telling my teacher in Chinese that I wanted to come back tonight. Now I'll have to learn how to tell him that I had a really bad headache.

Dalian Coastline

Thanks to my Uncle Kent for this link of the Dalian seashore. The first several pictures look like shots from along BingHai Road near Tiger Beach, though I'm not certain of that.

A warning to those of you who have a slow connection (like me): the page is photo-heavy and may take some time to load.

Manly Man

I've lived my life as something of an unspoken pacifist, but last night I threw my first ever punch. In fact, I think I threw a couple hundred of them.

On Wednesday evening I began my first session of sanda (pronounced sen-DAH; both syllables using third tone, if you know what that is), also known as Chinese kickboxing. I plan on going to the class three times a week when possible.

Since I was going by myself, I had a friend write a couple of notes for me to start up the lessons. The one for the teacher said that I want to learn how to do sanda, but basically I'm clueless about both the sport and Chinese. The teacher seemed pleased that I was interested and didn't even make me pay for the first session (a month's membership is roughly $12 American).

I started out by running. And running. And running some more. I was the only one running. Everyone else was piddling around with less intense looking exercises (which I'm sure I'll hate and find difficult once I get to them). I finally had to stop and go to the bathroom. When I did, I passed a clock that showed I had been running for about 25 minutes. When I got back to the room, everyone else was running, so I had to join back in. All told, I think I ran for about 35 or 40 minutes, which is a lot longer than I've ever run before.

After that, we had a quickness game (which was fun even though I was miserable at it) and then did various punching and kicking marches down the mat. Then came stretching wherein I was reminded that I am roughly as flexible as an oak tree. The others then started into sparring, and the teacher took me aside to teach me how to punch.

We stood in front of a large mirror. He talked to me about what to do, but I didn't understand much (anything, really) of what he said. He showed me what to do, but it took me a while to get it. I finally figured out that I was supposed to be aiming at my own jaw in the mirror, practicing the technique he walked me through. I did that for a while, and when he came back, he wasn't very happy with the height of my non-punching hand. He stood in front of me just out of range and told me to do what I had been doing. With my second swing, I suddenly discovered his foot flying down toward my face, stopping about two inches away. "Ah!" I realized, "I need to keep my hands up to block possible attacks." My technique improved dramatically after that.

After forty minutes or so of punching my jaw in the mirror and a few brief corrections to my form, the teacher came back and told me that I was doing fine now. He led me over to a large punching bag (the huge, human-sized kind, not the little balloon-looking kind) and told me to have at it. I spent the next twenty minutes or so bruising my knuckles and giving myself a headache. I never knew that hitting something with your fist could make your head hurt.

As I was working on the punching bag, I could see an aerobics class in the next room. I thought about the significant mental contrast between the two rooms. While they were definitely working out and getting some good exercise, I was quite happy to be doing something that made me feel and look like a manly man.

Heat Restored

EP: Dalian, China

A crack team of local scientists was dumbfounded yesterday upon discovering that "March 1" does not in fact equal "warm weather."

"Incredible," one of them said, speaking under conditions of anonymity. "Traditionally, March 1 is the beginning of Spring in our region. Yet we were overwhelmed with the evidence given recently that March 1 is not necessarily the calendar equivalent of warmth."

The "overwhelming evidence" referred to was a large storm on the morning of March 3, which left the city blanketed with snow. The source revealed that snow is typically identified with cold rather than heat, but a crack team of scientists and mathematicians, including some who were responsible for first identifying the city's abundant supply of expensive sea cucumbers as "the nutritious seafood," was investigating whether or not this could be a rare occurrence of "warm snow," a previously unrecorded weather phenomenon.

In addition to studying the possibility of warm snow, the team will test other hypotheses, the most prominent of which is that while March 1 may in fact equal warmth, March 2 and 3 could function under a mathematical anomaly generally reserved for colder months. "We will be sure to solve this dilemma by the deadline of March 15," our source told us. "Until that date or the mystery is solved, the heat to local apartments may be provided."

Shiver Me Timbers

Only my building doesn't have any timber in it, just brick, concrete and very thin window panes. Maybe if it did, it wouldn't have been so darn cold when I get up in the morning!

China has apparently decided to turn off the heat earlier than usual this year (they started it earlier than usual in November due to a big ice storm). Nevermind that the high yesterday was somewhere around 35 degrees Fahrenheit. It's March, right? So that means it's Spring. Spring is warm, even if the thermometer and your body disagree. The government says it's warm, so it's warm!

Now I understand older stories talking about not wanting to get out of bed in the morning because of the cold.