About a week ago, Stonecold and his friend came over for what is becoming the default menu: hamburgers. I've never met a Chinese person so infatuated with them and so surprisingly open-minded to some of the more traditional ingredients that have proved stumbling blocks to Asian palates: cheese and yellow mustard. He uses them with the same liberality as I do, which makes me laugh when we both reach simultaneously for my imported jar of French's.
That night, I found out his birthday is in December. I didn't write it down and soon got lost in another tangent of conversation. This morning, as I was remembering him, I was reminded of what he told me and soon sent him a text message asking, once again, for the date. His response was surprising, considering that he had not hesitated with me in the original exchange of information:
Stonecold: May I ask, what for?
Me: I want to make sure that we celebrate in some way. If that's ok...
He was silent for 15 minutes. I was concerned. Finally, my phone beeped.
Stonecold: Well, your idea upsets me. First of all, I'm still too young to celebrate my birthday. It's not worth it. We have a saying in Chinese that's something like, “It's bad manners to only receive.” If you keep doing something like this and don't give me a clue about what I can do in equal [return], I'd be worried, though friends we are.
I was a little stunned and wondered if his limitations on birthday celebrations are more Stonecold than they are Chinese. I felt like I had taken a step back for the ground that we gained with our most recent interaction. I asked for wisdom as I pressed my faded cell phone buttons.
Me: I instantly and sincerely apologize. I wasn't aware that you had such a complex view of birthday celebrations. I should explain to you that, growing up, we celebrated birthdays as a way to express our gratitude for the lives we've been given, and saying that I want to celebrate your birthday is also a way for me to demonstrate an appreciation for the day that YOU came into the world. You see, I know full well that none of us is guaranteed another sunrise. Life isn't fair, and as a response to that, I celebrate things as they come, knowing that I may not have another chance to do so.
There was much more that I wanted to say, but my message was already in four installments. I felt that the rest of the explanation would have to wait. I pressed “send,” with dueling tides of peace (over what I had said) and apprehension (over his forthcoming reply).
He wrote back quickly.
Stonecold: Ok. I understand your theory now. It's December 18th.
Me: Thank you. As for what you can do in return, my answer will have to be in person. It is very heartfelt, and my cheap rebellious Nokia is unworthy of such a task.
As I finished my message, I felt warm tears slowly trail down my face. I was overwhelmed by the realization that he and I are on the cusp of a very pivotal conversation. Telling him what he can do to repay my kindness is nothing less than spelling out what grace is. It is receiving something good and beneficial for which there is neither merit nor equal recompense. My very life has been defined by grace, and so my generosity with him is my very human attempt at enacting what has divinely been given to me. He cannot repay me, as I cannot repay my Redeemer. My tears turned into pleas, and I begged for the explanation of grace to impale him like “a double edged sword, penetrating even to divide soul and spirit, joints and marrow.” (Heb 4)
In remembering my text to Stonecold, may I be given another sunrise so that I might say these things to him face to face. And may he be prepared to hear them.
