Chinese Church

A few Sundays ago, we ventured from the comforts of our home in search of Christian fellowship. Our kids’ tutors, who have been Christians for several years, offered to introduce us to the only government sanctioned Chinese congregation in Dalian. After arriving a half an hour late (we thought it started at 9, not 8:30 a.m.), we were ushered into the universally empty seats in the overcrowded overflow room: the front row pews. There were about 200 people in the long and narrow room, all watching the sermon on a projection screen. The main room probably held 600-800 more people. There was even a 4 part choir! Although I didn’t understand a lot of the service, I was able to get the gist. The pastor mentioned that he came from a long line of pastors, dating perhaps before the Cultural Revolution*. He spoke from his heart and seemed to really connect with his congregation. The experience was simultaneously familiar and foreign with songs like This is My Father’s World, What a Friend We Have In Jesus, and There Were Twelve Disciples sang without inhibition in Chinese, with the atmosphere reminding me of many charismatic churches I’ve visited in my life. Since I wasn’t able to follow along, and while I wasn’t busy breaking up the fist fight in the front pew between Coleman and any sister who looked at him wrong, my mind wandered (not unlike many sermons preached in English, come to think of it). I thought about the concept of religious freedom, and how we, as Americans, take it for granted. I visited this same church 14 years ago, but the service was sparsely attended. At the time, religion (not just Christianity, but even China’s own Buddhism) was just finding its place in modern China. There is no doubt that even during the most oppressive times, Christians were meeting in secret. I was surprised at the time to learn that my study partner and her entire family were Christians. If I’d had the language skills, I might have learned of the hardships they endured because of their faith. As an adult, I’ve always struggled with the concept of spreading the Good News. I know if it hadn’t been for my parents, who were short term missionaries in Taiwan, I would not have the life that I have today. I thank God every day for the blessings in my life, but it goes against my very nature to try to sway or judge people. As I looked around, I wondered what could possibly draw all these Chinese nationals to this hot, crowded church to worship a foreigner’s God. In that moment, I realized that they were attracted by the life that Jesus lived and have claimed God as their own, just as all Christians have done before them, including me. And that, my friends, is not a bad place to be.

*If you do not know anything about the Cultural Revolution, I highly recommend doing a computer search. When I came in 1995, I had no idea.