Safely Home, page 22
Lu Lan put her arms around the one next to her and buried her slight frame in his warm embrace. It felt like being lost in the mane of a lion. He ran his fingers through her hair and kissed her head gently. She reached up and drew his hand to her lips. Lu Lan kissed his great scar and gazed into the eyes of the One who was the secret of her smile.
25
AFTER BEN had tossed and turned for an hour, Quan got up at 2:00 a.m. and sat on Ben’s bed.
“I cannot sleep either,” he whispered. “Sorry we have no bunk bed like at Harvard.” He got under the covers next to Ben, who scooted as far away from the center as he could, hanging precariously on the edge. But after a few minutes he took his cues from Quan, and his horror of being in a small bed with a man subsided.
“I guess I never believed in healing,” Ben said in the darkness.
“No one can believe in God and not in healing,” Quan said.
“I think most miracles are phony. Or at least exaggerated.”
“Some money is counterfeit. Does that mean that you no longer believe in money?”
“I’ve never seen a miracle until now.”
“Have you looked for one? Have you asked for one? Or have you assumed that because some miracles are imagined, all are?”
“But things have natural explanations.”
“Yes, and if you try hard enough, you could find one for Lin Bo getting better. What miracle is greater than creation itself? Yet men have invented a natural explanation for that. Why? Because they wanted to. Atheists are naturalists. Christians are supernaturalists. One who does not believe in miracles cannot be a Christian.”
“But . . . in America this doesn’t happen. I mean, not real miracles like this one.”
“How would you know? Are you always and everywhere present? How are you qualified to say such things? If you lived in a cave and did not see the sun rise, would it mean the sun did not rise?”
“Well, when you were at Harvard, did you see any miracles?”
“Not like I have seen in China. But I did not see demons in America like I have seen here either. Yet I know they were there. I could not see their feet, but everywhere I saw their footprints. Yet I am wrong to say I did not see miracles in America—for the greatest miracle of my life happened there. I was born again.”
“But I’m talking about physical miracles. The kind that can be discerned with the five senses. You’ve really seen those?”
“Last year we borrowed a television and showed the movie about Yesu in this room. At one point a blind man cries out to the Lord, ‘I want to see again.’ Just two feet from the foot of this bed sat a woman, Sun Fen. She had been totally blind since an accident as a child. Her eyes had shriveled. At the moment the blind man was healed, in her spirit she pleaded, ‘I also want to see again.’ Yesu healed her.”
“Just like that?”
“I saw her eyes, clear and shining. She touched Ming’s face and said how beautiful she was. That was when I knew she could truly see.”
They heard a giggle.
“Minghua is pretending to be asleep,” Quan said. “But she is eavesdropping on old roommates!”
The giggles came again. “Old roommates very big men sleeping together in very small bed!” They all laughed, especially Ming.
“Tell me the rest of the story,” Ben said, no longer whispering since Shen could sleep through anything.
“We had to turn off the video and wait an hour before watching the rest. Sun Fen’s sister was there. She could not control her happiness. We were all amazed, for such things do not happen often. We celebrated. But I said they must see the rest of the movie. When Yesu, the healer of the blind, was crucified, they all wept, none more than Sun Fen. She and every member of her family and most of the thirty others became followers of Yesu that night.”
“You had thirty people in this house?”
“Yes.”
“And you knew this woman well enough that it couldn’t have been a fake healing?”
“Of course. We knew Sun Fen the blind woman for many years. Everyone knew her. She is a member in our church. You have surely seen her.”
After ten seconds of silence, Quan said, “Do you think we are gullible, Ben Fielding? That we are quick to believe because we are superstitious peasants? Many Americans think this of us. But we were taught to be atheists, remember? It is Americans who are gullible.”
“What do you mean?”
“I remember the newspapers in supermarkets. People believe things in your country no Chinese would ever believe. That President Kennedy is still alive on some island? That Elvis is seen by witnesses everywhere? That fifty-pound, two-headed babies are born?”
“Most people don’t believe those things,” Ben said.
“Then what about your science? Don’t they say first there was nothing and then the nothing exploded and turned into everything? Do not tell me people don’t believe that—I was taught it at Harvard. So do not think Chinese are foolish and gullible until you look in own mirror.”
“Sorry.”
“So do not believe I don’t know when a woman is blind and when she can see. We are not stupid.” Quan breathed deeper and relaxed. “I also know when an evil spirit has been cast out.”
“You’ve seen that?”
“Perhaps since our visit to the Lama’s den you are not so skeptical?”
“Why didn’t you tell me about these miracles before?”
“Because you did not ask. Besides, would you have believed me?”
“Probably not. But explain this to me, would you? God saved the daughter of Lin Shan, a man who persecuted Christians, because he asked for a miracle. But when I found my son in the water and asked God to save him, he was silent. He did nothing to help Jason. Where was a miracle when I needed one?”
“I cannot speak for God. Nor does he need me to. Miracles are unusual or they would not be miracles. A dying girl is suddenly healed. That is a miracle. I have seen miracles of deliverance in prison. I have also seen men suffer terribly. I have seen children healed, and I have seen them die in their mother’s arms. I suppose my grandfather, Li Wen, prayed for a miracle when the Boxers were about to cut off the heads of his parents. But they were still beheaded—though God answered the prayers of his parents by delivering their son. Never believe a man who says God no longer does miracles, Ben. But never believe a man who says God must do a miracle the way a man wants him to. God is God.”
“I’ll never forgive him for taking Jason.”
“God does not need your forgiveness. It is you who need his.”
“I’m still angry at him.”
“You do not have reason to be angry at him. He has reason to be angry at you.”
Ben resisted the urge to kick Quan out of bed. “You still have Shen. I don’t have Jason.”
“But you do have Melissa and Kim. Li Quan and Ming would give everything we own for the opportunity to have another child. Do not take your children lightly, Ben Fielding.”
“Who says I take them lightly?”
“A path is made by people walking the ground. My father walked the path before me and his father before him and his before him. I pray my son will walk it after me. So I ask my old roommate a question—what path are you walking for your children to follow?”
“Kimmy’s a sweetheart, sharp as a tack. Melissa’s a business major. I think she got her interest in business from me.”
“And did she get from you an interest in God?”
“I provided a beautiful house for the kids, nice clothes, bought them each a car. I’ll pay their way through college. And one day I guess I’ll leave them a big inheritance.”
“In China we have different words for inheritance and heritage. Even a bad father can leave an inheritance. Only a good father can leave a heritage.”
“I have no room for a God who lets children die.”
“The innkeeper had no room, but it did not thwart God’s plan. Who is Ben Fielding to have no room for God? Shall the dog decide whether there is room in the house for the Master? Shall the cricket decide whether there is room in the forest for the Lion?”
“That doesn’t justify the suffering.”
“Does my old roommate imagine that Yesu is a stranger to suffering? He wept for the sisters of Lazarus. He sweat great drops of blood in the garden. On that hill he took upon himself the anguish of all men. He was despised by men, a man of sorrows and familiar with grief. Even now when his people are persecuted, he feels their suffering. Ben Fielding has not suffered first, nor has he suffered most. As for the God you have no room for, who knows better than he what it is like to lose his only Son?”
* * *
“In the last two weeks, there have been no raids of churches anywhere near Pushan, right?” Ben asked. “With the conversion of the PSB chief, perhaps a new era of freedom has come for your churches.”
“I am not so sure,” Quan said. “But I am sorry my old friend must leave tomorrow.”
“It’s been six weeks. I’ve taken advantage of your hospitality too long. The time went by so quickly. But next time I’m in Shanghai, I’ll come out for a visit. I promise.”
After dinner, Ben packed, trying in vain to fit everything in. He was already bringing back two extra bags, one filled with handcrafted gifts from Ming and women in the house church. Many of the gifts were for Pam and the girls.
Without a knock, the door suddenly opened. Ben recognized the young man from church. He was out of breath.
“What is it, Zhang Shilin?” Quan asked.
“Message from Zhou Jin. Bad news. Lin Shan, police chief, no longer there. He has moved away.”
“Why?”
“Sudden transfer. So they say.”
“So they say.”
“The deputy has been promoted to chief.”
Ming covered her mouth. Ben pictured the steely-eyed man who’d followed Quan and paid him that intimidating visit.
“Tai Hong is loyal Party member,” Quan said. “His head is filled with passionate, empty words. Mogui’s words.”
Ming’s cheeks were wet. She put one arm around Quan and drew him near. She put her finger to the five-inch scar on his neck and then to his marred ear lobe.
“I’ve never asked you how that happened,” Ben said. He’d wanted to, but he kept hoping Quan would offer an explanation.
“It happened in jail.”
Ming cried out, “Tai Hong’s knife did this!” She spoke with fear and fury. It was the first time Ben had seen her angry.
“We have prayed often for Tai in our house church,” Quan said. “Perhaps I will have opportunity again to speak to him of Yesu.”
* * *
Two hours later Ming and Shen slept soundly. Quan sat on Ben’s bed beside him, covered with a blanket.
“There’s something I want to know before I leave,” Ben said to Quan. “This is probably my last chance to ask.”
“Yes?”
“I want to know more about what happened to your father and grandfather and great-grandfather. If you feel up to telling me.”
“It honors me that you would ask this.” Quan gathered his thoughts. “Perhaps I told you Father taught me to ask myself, ‘Is this the day I die?’ He would quote a verse, ‘Man is destined to die once, and after that to face judgment.’”
“That’s a scary message to send to your child.”
“Does not a loving father tell his children the truth? He also taught me, ‘Show me, O Lord, my life’s end and the number of my days; let me know how fleeting is my life. You have made my days a mere handbreadth; the span of my years is as nothing before you. Each man’s life is but a breath.’ He taught me that our lives ‘quickly pass, and we fly away.’”
“Sounds morbid.”
“No, because our life does not end here. We do not cease to exist at death; we relocate to another place. How can we prepare for death if we deny it? One of Baba’s favorite sayings was ‘Real gold fears no fire.’ I tell Minghua and Shen, we must go through times of testing, but the fire of our trials proves what we are made of.”
“Fire seems a high price to pay.”
“Purity is worth the highest cost, is it not? God is with us in the fire. Shengjing says our works done on earth can be either wood or hay or straw that will burn in the fire of God’s holiness. Or they can be works of gold and silver and precious stones that will be purified in the fire. The choice is ours. If we are faithful, we will come out purer than when we went into the fire. This is why real gold does not fear the fire.”
“But does a father who loves his children put them through such fire?”
“Suffering was not new to my father. I have told you his own father—my grandfather—was only eight years old when the Boxers killed his parents.”
“Your grandmother was killed too?”
“Yes.”
“Who were the Boxers?”
“Beware—you have asked a history major. Alright. The Opium Wars left China humiliated and helpless before Western imperialists. Our rulers wanted to rid China of all foreigners. The empress dowager claimed the spirits were angry because of the foreign religion—Christianity—and the disloyalty of Chinese Christians who did not pay temple taxes or worship ancestors. There were mystics who looked back to China’s golden days and believed that martial arts—Chinese boxing—could ward off Western bullets. Under the influence of drugs and under the spell of Mogui, young peasant boys set out to rid China of Christians. What happened was the largest martyrdom in all history. More than thirty-two thousand Chinese and two hundred missionaries were murdered.”
“It sounds horrible.”
“I have always wanted to write a book on the Boxer martyrs and dedicate it to my great-grandparents. That will never be, I fear. But I do not regret my research. Did you know that whole families were beheaded? A seventeen-year-old had his body cut into pieces and parts nailed to a wall in Tangshan. One missionary in Shanxi Province was stoned, stripped, and run over with a cart until her spine was broken. A teacher at the Zunhua Girls School, Hebei Province, was shot, stabbed, sliced, and burned to death. Over three hundred Christians were beheaded in the northeastern provinces. Others were strangled, burned, put in stocks, and beaten severely, then left to die. One student at Beijing University refused to renounce his faith in Christ and burn incense to idols. They cut off his lips, arms, and legs. Another had his heart cut out and placed on a stone in Yongping.”
Ben cringed. “But what happened to your great-grandparents?”
“My grandfather Li Wen told me this story when I was young, and my father repeated it to me many times. My great-grandfather was Li Manchu. My grandfather, when he was Shen’s age, watched the swordsman cut his father’s head off. He saw it fall to the ground. My great-grandmother tried to stop the Boxers, but they beat and kicked her. She lay in the dirt ten feet away from his severed head. She kept saying to them what they did not wish to hear. Finally, as she lay in the dirt, they cut off her head too. My grandfather’s aunt held him in her arms while it happened. It was a miracle they escaped. The Boxers often murdered children along with the adults.”
“Why did they let your grandfather and his aunt live?”
“The first reason is because God was not finished with house of Li. He had a purpose for us to continue. He had reasons for Li Wen and Li Tong to be born, and for Li Quan to be talking today with Ben Fielding. He had, I hope, his highest plan for the life of Li Shen. But a second reason was related to me by my elderly grandfather. He said his aunt told him it was because his mother frightened them.”
“What do you mean?”
“As she lay in the dirt, she quoted Shengjing. The verses she spoke were copied by my father’s aunt, and she passed them down. My father taught me what she said to them, as his father taught him.”
“What did she say?” Ben leaned forward.
“She pointed at her children and said to the executioner, ‘If anyone causes one of these little ones who trusts in me to lose faith, it would be better for that person to be thrown into the sea with a large millstone tied around the neck.’ The man trembled as he raised his sword. He killed her.”
“And then?”
“Two men came toward my eight-year-old grandfather and his aunt, to behead them. But the leader, the one who had killed my grandparents, ordered them to stop. ‘Leave the children alone,’ he told them. The other man yelled at him, and soon they were fighting. The one who killed my great-grandparents protected their child. At the same instant, the men struck each other with swords. They fell to the ground and bled to death in front of my aunt. My grandmother’s killer stared up into the sky and whispered something. Grandfather’s aunt didn’t know what to think of it at the time, but later she thought it might have been a prayer.”
“A prayer?”
“Yes. She thought the Boxer warrior had whispered the name of Zhu Yesu. She wondered if he might be like the thief on the cross—perhaps he repented just before he died.”
* * *
“It was almost as Li Quan recounted, was it not?”
“Except his great-grandfather was not so brave as he appeared. But Quan was right about his great-grandmother. Nan Hu was the most courageous woman I have ever known.”
“Thank you,” Nan Hu said to Li Manchu. She looked through the portal at earth and spoke to one who could not hear her words.
“It was a prayer, Li Quan, a prayer of repentance. Recently I shared another meal with Song Ding, the Boxer warrior who became a child of Elyon that day. We prayed for you! You should have heard him. He has great passion for the King. You will enjoy meeting him.”
“A true servant of Yesu,” Li Manchu said to Quan. “We entered Charis minutes apart. Of course, he earned no reward except for saving Li Wen’s life—but the King treasures that single act of obedience for which he died. Now Song Ding has grown great in knowledge and insight. He who is forgiven much loves much.” He smiled at Nan Hu. “We could not have been killed by a finer man.”
* * *
Quan had put on his leather jacket to go out and look at the stars. As he stepped toward the door, it flew open. Three PSB officers stormed in, one with a rifle couched tensely in his arms. Ben stood, knocking his laptop to the floor. The man with the rifle pointed it at Ben. He stuck his hands in the air.
