China is a writer’s dream. Full of people, stories and images. There is tragedy and conflict every direction you turn, and when you don’t see the tragedy of a life spent surviving, there is refreshing success that brings a feeling of reverent respect for the old man that smiles as he collects water bottles to recycle, or the shop owner who can afford the lighting to display his wares. It is a constant stream of poverty offset by happy people who are industrious and ingenious in their endeavors. How the people of China get around the barriers placed before them is beyond me. As a constant backseat driver of others lives, for the first time I thought to myself, “If I were him, I have no idea what I would do to stay alive, let alone succeed here.”
One of the defining images of the trip occurred in the Hong Kong Subway. I stood near the escalators on an island between two subway lines. Efficiency whirled around us at a speed unlike New York, LA, or any city I’ve ever been to. I watched as a young man and a woman that I assume was his Grandmother approached an escalator. He was dressed in a bright soccer Jersey, sneakers and had his hair spiked. She was dressed in a light brown, draping blouse, grey pants, and old sandals with wooden soles. Her ankles were the swollen ankles of older woman who walks far more than a woman of her age should. Her grey hair was tied in a bun, and rested above her head. Her back was hunched and bony. He hopped on without thinking, riding a few steps, and then turning around after he realized that she did not get on. She was perched at the edge of the escalator, reminding me of a child perched on the edge of a pool, with their knees and ankles bent, and their hands forming a tent on the top of their head, ready to make their first dive into the swimming pool. She perched, with knees and ankles bent, unable to grab the rail of the escalator because it would pull her with it. Her grandson moved away from her, and after a few seconds perched, she gave a little squeal and hopped onto the escalator. A triumphant smile teetered on the edge of fear as her Grandson came back to get her, smiling as he held her hand and helped down the rest of the escalator. Before getting off, she took it at a running start. Holding his hand and shuffling towards the end of the escalator, something that always seemed like a cliff with no fall to me. It was a beautiful scene.
For the last week, I have been reliving my mission vicariously through my younger brother’s experiences. He’s a good kid, and I’m proud of him. In one of his areas he met and invited a man to church. The man didn’t come. Big surprise. The story continues. Two weeks later the man sees my younger brother across the street and exclaims “Do you remember me?” My brother says no. At least he is honest. Then the man pulls out a flyer with my brother’s name on it and the church address and tells my brother that he has been in the US for two weeks. During those two weeks, he has contacted the missionaries and been baptized. You see, he is an employee of the Sunrider company. They are akin to NuSkin, and they are owned by an LDS man (Mr. Chen) who is Chinese-American. Mr. Chen has been a good example. After years of watching Mr. Chen, this Chinese man and his good wife joined the church. He then goes back to China. The story continues. He (Mr. Teng) brings his four children and his parents to church. My brother teaches them and baptizes them. Mr. Teng then begins to bring his relatives down from mainland China. Over the next four months, forty-seven of this good man’s relatives and friends come down from a city named JungSaan and are baptized into the small branch in the island city of Macao (a Portuguese settlement about an hour from Hong Kong known as the Las Vegas of the east due to its gambling). Because of this family, many others have been baptized into branches and wards strewn over Hong Kong and mainland China.
The church has four branches in mainland China. JungSaan is the fourth. It will be organized in the next few weeks. I had a chance to go to these members homes in Mainland China. They live in a town known for being the birthplace of Dr. Sun Yat Tze, the man who led the revolution to overthrow the dynasties and the emperors in 1911. It was about an hour and a half long boat ride through deep channels of industry and manufacturing. Each of the member families were waiting for us as we got off the boat. They smiled excitedly and they hugged my brother. They glowed. They gave us small pineapple refreshments, and each time we finished one, they replaced it with another. Communication barriers were thick, but understanding was easy. The eyes of recent believers are beautiful. The verse reads “how beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of him who brings good tidings.” How beautiful are the feet of these people. These members who are bringing good tidings to China. Missionaries are just a small catalyst, the burden and the sacrifice always falls on the members, and here was a small group that cannot imagine the miracles and the heartache and the work that lies before them.
They took us to their homes. Interestingly, these people are wealthy and they are for the most part educated. The work spreads to both the wealthy and the poor. Typically, it spreads to the poor, and they become wealthy. The Lord’s hand is over China. It was evident repeatedly as we spoke with this small group of members. While these are a wildly successful group of people, they are more importantly wildly faithful. I watched as they blessed their food. They had removed the places to worship their ancestors and they had replaced them with pictures of the Savior and of the temple.
We also visited the birthplace and museum of Dr. Sun Yat Tze. It was inspiring. He is the equivalent of the George Washington of China. He was more than George Washington. Rather than overthrowing a country far away with a three hundred year history that was imposing an extra tax on sugars and coffees, he overthrew an empire that had governed with true tyranny and oppression. He was not able to completely implement all that he planned, but his accomplishments were inspiring. He studied in Honolulu, and then came back to China with a vision. With his vision, he inspired those around him and then the entire country.
As I rode through the countryside, I could imagine missionaries on bikes. I could see them talking to one another. One fifth of God’s children on the earth today are waiting. They looked so ready.
We left JungSaan and they lingered with my brother. He made sure that he was the last, and he cried as he hugged the last of these wonderful saints. The entire experience was surreal.
While in Hong Kong and the neighboring island of Macau, we saw some vigils of ancestor worship, and Buddhism. Beijing had none. I did not see a single chapel, nor any manifestation of religion. As a first time person in a communist nation, this left me . . . unsettled. I suppose that one of the familiar things that I have felt in my life, even when in an unfamiliar environment, is the solace from the religions around me. I remember being lonely and discouraged at times while I was on my mission in Brazil, and despite what some have erroneously characterized as the great and abominable church, I found solace in the high stone permanence of Cathedrals throughout Brazil. Mormon chapels are always beautiful, but they are ultra functional, and the doors are usually locked. Once inside the spirit is different, but I found much solace in Cathedrals. The architecture always took my gaze away from myself and towards God. In Hong Kong, I found comfort in the smiling Buddha with his large stomach (which apparently holds my sins that he has eaten). From an American perspective on Buddha, I see the image of Buddha as a powerful reminder that self-image and materialism are unimportant. I don’t need to be thin and I don’t need to have to have nice clothes. I can be fat, I can wear a loin cloth, and I can smile. Unfortunately, nothing of comfort was in Beijing. There was only smog and square buildings with red flags.
Beijing was nearly always covered in a mist of fog. Our tour guide through the city was named Du. He was an employee of the government and he was a believer in the government of China, whether for belief, survival, or both I do not know. We asked him what he thought about Americans “I have no thoughts about America.” We asked him about the student riots in Tiananmen Square and he responded: “We do not speak of this.” The government seemed oppressive but not powerful. This was evidenced by the sights around Tiananmen Square and the Forbidden City. Rather than showing military might that may intimidate/impress foreign visitors, the government chose to train their riot police in the square. This “you better not try” tactic appeared . . . petty. We walked through 3000 years of history. So old and so sad. All painted with the brush of the communist government showing how much better things were today. Even the current government puts down the modern leaders to make themselves look better. There is no religion in Beijing. The cultural revolution of the 1960’s took care of that. In the 1960’s, Chairman Mao unleashed the youth upon the educated and cultured of China. They destroyed anything decorative, educated, and religious in the name of the government. They did not follow the admonition of Paul.
Possessing a degree in American Studies, I have always segmented history into two sections: After 1776, and the part that doesn’t matter. China has a history of thousands of years. Whereas in America, there is virtually no history discussed before Columbus. China’s history was recorded daily within the journals of the emperors. Most of the history appears as a terrible expression of inhumanity, punctuated by revolutions and short term governmental kindness before falling back into despotism. This lies in strict contrast to Hong Kong, where the history is so young. Hong Kong history is swallowed by China until Empress Cixi was forced to sign the island over to the British. Since then, Hong Kong appears to be full of enthusiasm and modern excitement. Capitalism and survival of the fittest speed the pace of Hong Kong, whereas Beijing appeared to move at a slow amble. The international Church branch was excellent. The first five minutes were spent giving warnings and pleadings about not preaching to the people. Then the rest was spent preaching to those present. Everyone brings their passports to church—sometimes government officials stop by and check. I guess they probably have people come and watch the services as well. My brother’s mission president and his wife (President and Sister Ong) were returning home from serving in Hong Kong, and were visiting Beijing on their way. They bore testimony. Hers brought the spirit, his directed it where to go. That is how it was with my mission president too. In his testimony, President Ong said something very interesting. He talked about how the people of China are waiting, and they are waiting with a clean slate, a slate ready to be filled in with the gospel. I thought on this. The clean slate was caused in large part by the oppressive government and its so-called revolutions. I thought about why the Lord would work in such a way. I then remembered the people of Ammon—the Anti-Nephi-Lehites. Here was a people that refused to fight. For this, their immediate reward was slaughter. 1005 people slaughtered as they lay prostrate before those that hated them most. The story continues. Their murderers changed, and more of them threw down their weapons of war and joined with those that they had just intended to kill. The pattern continued throughout the remainder of the war. The hard reality is that the Lord allowed over a thousand of his children to be slaughtered; by doing so, he allowed many more of his children to be saved. We certainly worship a God that is willing to make tough decisions. Like the decision to send his Son, and the decision to sacrifice the 1005 Anti-Nephi-Lehites. Perhaps the cultural revolution in China is another such tough decision.
As I leave China, I am again reminded of the old woman on the escalator. Poised, ready to jump, and gathering her courage. Her grandchild is moving away from her and beckoning her to come. I think of ancient China, poised and ready to begin. With leaders that have left China, much like Dr. Sun Yat Tze, helping her to get onto the escalator before the distance grows too great. China, the Old Woman. The Grandson, Hong Kong. Dr. Sun Yat Tze, the courageous members of China. A true revolution poised to begin.
