If my daily life was a drainage pipe and you could just open up a manhole covering and stick your head down in there to get a glimpse of what kind of conversations have been passing through, you'd be overwhelmed. I mean, I am. Overwhelmed by doors that are opening and questions that are coming out of nowhere from students who have the courage to ask. Overwhelmed by the sparks in classes that lead to discussions about eternal things. Overwhelmed by the responses of students to the challenge of choosing mercy over generational bitterness.
Examples:
#1
After almost four years, she has finally chosen to sit down with me and study. I know that she is fickle and often changes her mind, so if our Friday nights together continue, it will be a miracle. Maybe it's appropriate that we're reading about the great flood: If he can preserve the entire population through eight in a giant boat, he can take care of one shipwrecked girl.
#2
He and his partner told me the day of class that they couldn't complete the homework assignment, which was to dress in business casual attire. I pulled them into the hallway and, as any teacher should, warned them. But I did that mostly out of protocol. I dismissed his partner to return to class. I kept him for an extra talk. Compared to his classmates, he is goliath. He is tall and obese with large swollen fingers. He slumps in his desk. He rarely talks and when he does, he fidgets and stammers. His self-confidence is nowhere in sight. I began, "I know this assignment was difficult for you." He looked down and nodded, pulling a little at his shirt. "But I want to help you," I continued, "I'd like to help you work on your English and your confidence in speaking with others. If you're interested, let's get together once a week. Let me know in a day or two if you'd like to accept my offer." That was two weeks ago. He has been to see me twice. We meet at my place of Tuesday fellowship and then we have dinner together, usually with a small group of other students. The first week, he said little and inhaled his noodles. The second week, we went around the table and took turns sharing something about ourselves. When it came to him, he said, "I read a lot of science fiction, and I think it helps me to understand some of what we learn on Tuesdays and how maybe I can believe in Him." I should've been wearing a seatbelt for that one. As I walked the dinner group to their bus stop, I turned back to see him talking with another young man. He was chuckling -- chuckling! And in class this week, he didn't slump. He seemed more alert and awake. It so happened that this week I was able to tell an ancient story. In a recent article of a national publication, the title read, "SHENZHEN PONDERS PROTECTION FOR GOOD SAMARITANS." It is in response to a tragic story of a little girl who was run over and left for dead while 18 people passed by without helping. We discussed the article and then I asked the class, "Do you know what a good Samaritan is?" Some guessed and guessed correctly. My next question was met with silence. "Do you know the origins of that name?" And so, as a supplement to their understanding, I shared with them the story. They were mesmerized and then shocked when I put it into cultural terms for them by asking them to imagine doing the same act of kindness toward a wounded Japanese soldier 50 years ago. Unheard of. I happened to glance at him while the story was being told. He had a look on his face that I can't describe, sort of like he knew inside information because of what he's been learning on Tuesday nights. For me, it was a double blessing.
To be continued...
