Liam Josiah Arrives...

The fact that we are supposed to stay in the house and out of the hospital means Julie and I are becoming creative in how we continue to keep in touch with our school family. 

Since you probably find yourself equally in search of ways to occupy your days, If you go to this link. You’ll see many videos in chronological order.  They do not directly impact your lives, but they are Enoch’s new reality and he is handling things in admirable ways. You’ll also see a beautiful drawing he made for Kim. It is precious. He calls it “Heartstrings” because in China they believe that the fingers are directly connected to the heart.

That drawing will make more sense after you watch the video called “Liam Josiah Arrives,”a video I made for my family the day before Liam’s first surgery. Please consider that private as my daughter Kim has chosen not to watch it yet. (She is like me and easily moved, but it is not a sad video. It’s meant to be hopeful—especially if we imagine that the lyrics may reflect God’s wish for all of us.)

The other videos in the post called Videos from Calvary just show you what life is like for educators trying to keep current with their families. Calvary is a very special place. It is no mystery to God why Enoch came here to be a part of this surreal chain of events.

Gaining Common Ground

A month ago was "Homecoming" at Calvary Christian Schools, a big week of tradition. Enoch was selected to be on "court," and he was very excited about the honor. It called for a suit, which he did not have (and frankly had no previous need for one) so we took him to Kohl's and between the sale and the extra 30% coupon, we were able to get him decked out for under $200 (this included two pants for the suit), shirt, tie, and dress shoes. He looked very handsome.

Enoch is not a shopper and hates spending money (even if it's not from his pocket), but in this case, we told him that he would probably also need the suit for college. (We think that's true, but much has changed since Julie and I were in college). At any rate, the poor guy has never been in and out of a changing room so much in all his life.

He has also begun "running" and working out with the track team after school. He does not plan to compete in track, but wants to do this for the exercise and fellowship. So... another trip to Kohl's for "work out" clothes and running shoes. It's all good.

Back in the old days, when the Boy Scouts of America was less controversial, my brothers were in the cub scouts program. My mom was a "den mother," and though I was too young to join, I was included in all the activities because my parents were involved. I tagged along on all the "merit badge" experiences, etc. By the time I was in 4th grade, we become very active in a church that had a Brigader Boys program, and our focus changed. (We became even busier--it's how churches like ours were back then.)

I mention this only to say that we have taken a sort of  "merit badge" approach to Enoch's time in America. There are no badges, of course, but the concept is the same. Back when Gerald R. Ford used to do the BSOA commercials, their slogan was "Scouting rounds a guy out." That is to say, it's good to gain a variety of wholesome experiences when you're young.

Whenever we learn of something Enoch has never done or never seen, we put it on our bucket list of future things to do (if possible). Riding a bike, swimming (in deep water), kayaking, camping, golf, drama, track (even if he only practices), interviews with newspapers, etc. All good experiences. Bob Fu has invited him to an event in Dallas this June. Other places to go (if possible) include Greenfield Village, Mackinac Island, and maybe even Washington D.C.  Last summer, on our way home from Missouri, we stopped by the St. Louis "Gateway Arch," for this very reason. Most international students have traveled a lot. This was not true of Enoch--not even in his own country. I saw far more of China in two weeks than he did in his 17 years.

I have talked with Enoch about communication being enhanced by overlapping "fields of experience" much like a Venn diagram. The more things you have in common with the other person/group, the more "common ground" you share, the better the odds of clear understanding will be.

So here is a list of experiences that await Enoch in the months ahead:

1. Shots, shots, and more shots. When Enoch came to us, we had no records of immunization (and unclear explanation) so INS required starting from scratch (or poke as it were). Enoch just had another shot yesterday, and for college dorm life he may be required a series of four more in the months ahead. On the way to yesterday's shot, he asked, "Will we stop by Culver's for Ice Cream on the way home?" (a treat we have done after other shots). I said, "I don't think so because it will be too close to supper." Without missing a beat, he said, "I have a separate stomach for ice cream." We did stop.

2. Rehearsals have begun for "Beauty and the Beast." He is Maurice, Belle's father who gets locked in the castle then rescued by his daughter Belle. That performance is in late April.

3. In March, there is a Coffee House Talent Show. Enoch will be playing a piano piece in that. (I'll post video when that is done.)

4. Calvary does not require "Spanish" for international students because, after all, they are typically trying to learn English as a second language. BUT... Enoch--on his own volition--has chosen to take Spanish I (with our school teacher) and Japanese via an on-line program called Virtual University. He is getting "A"s in both. (By the way, Enoch gets "A's" in all of his studies and works very hard to do so.)

5. This Friday, February 21, Enoch will be spending the day at Cornerstone University. He will be in a group interview (with all candidates) and an individual interview conducted by a scholarship committee for something called the Kingdom Scholarship. This is a very significant amount of funding for all four years of college. These interviews will be based on the kinds of questions that prompted the essays I have shared with you. His friend Ben, from Ethiopia (Homecoming King in the picture) and his friend Alexandria (who is Egyptian in back row right of picture) will also be in this interview process. I'm not sure if "elimination" or multiple recipients is the outcome.

6. The following Thursday, February 27, Enoch and I will be in Chicago for a different interview with whatever branch of the State Department that grants political asylum. This is a legal process and is all the more complicated due to the interesting dynamic between USA and China at this time. Pray for wisdom as Enoch explains his situation, and for open minds in the officials.

7. In March, Enoch will be giving a speech in Government class on why voting rights in America SHOULD NOT BE GRANTED TO IMMIGRANT who are not citizens. If selected, he will give the speech again to about 100 attorneys and judges in our county bar association for a scholarship.

8. Near the end of May, after this and many other experiences, Enoch will join his class (along with my wife and I) for Senior Trip, a Calvary tradition that in recent years has been to Orlando, Florida, to take in all the magic of the various Disney theme parks. (Enoch's part of this trip was made possible by two of you "Friends of Enoch" who happened to be "missionaries" in Enoch's hometown in China when he was born. Enoch also earned some of the cost through various jobs and fundraisers.)

9. On the last Friday of May, Enoch will graduate. He has worked very hard.


10. And some real life will be a part of Enoch's experience as his "sister" Kim's due date has been moved a week nearer, March 2, 2020. That will be quite an ordeal as open heart surgery on baby Liam is expected within the first few days of his life. (Kim is on left. Emily is in the middle, and Natalie is on right. Emery and Nora are "nieces."

Preface: "Past is Prologue"

The masthead of this blog refers to a previous private journal written by a fictitious first-person narrator reflecting on young sojourner who came to live with him and his family. With that in mind, this preface includes clues that help explain how God's hand set the stage upon which these events have played out.

Speaking of "setting the stage," the title of this post is a quotations from Shakespeare. "What's Past is Prologue" comes from The Tempest, Act 2, Scene I. 

In that play, Shakespeare's meaning was quite literal. He was telling the audience, "What you just saw in the Act I is the context for what you're about to see in Act II."

To me, "Past is  Prologue" is a reminder that the sovereign God of eternity has forged the chain of time. Moments are not isolated points in our existence. They are numbered and ordered like the stars in  Orion's belt. We do not always see God's big picture, but sometimes He gives us a glimpse--enough to confirm that what some call random chance was actually planned from the beginning. In such moments, we stand amazed and humbled to be just one of the dots, just one willing spec in God's unfolding universe.

Below is a timeline of seemingly unconnected events, but in hindsight, they are the connected dots that serve as prologue to the story of  " And Enoch Was No More."

In the spring of 1965, our church had what they used to call a "missionary conference," during which parents were encouraged to read true biographies to their kids. At bedtime that week, my mother began reading aloud to my siblings and I the story of Hudson Taylor.

Taylor was a missionary to China for over 50 years. So immersed was he in the culture of the people he loved that, during his later years, he began to dress like the respected elders of the villages he served. (More about Hudson Taylor in a few paragraphs.) It is important to note that the name of Taylor's ministry was "China Inland Mission." It served the provinces of China far from the eastern seaboard, places like the province of Guizhou.

Fast forward to September 11, 2001. I was in my school office talking to a missionary to Togo, West Africa, We were discussing ways to help a young lady from Togo attend our school. Our school did not yet have SEVIS approval, and our hands were somewhat tied. As we spoke, a school secretary knocked on the door and casually mentioned that a plane had just crashed into one of the towers at the World Trade Center in New York City. It struck us as odd, but we assumed it was a small plane and went on with our conversation which ended abruptly when we learned of the second plane hitting the second tower. Both were large commercial jets; both were acts of terror.

That day is a milestone of the 21st  Century. For most, the date alone marks a "where were you when it happened?" moment. For me, far below the settled dust, there is also a subtle footnote in my mind marking the day CCS began its ongoing work with international students. Soon after that 9-11 conversation, our school gained SEVIS status, without which this story would not be possible. 

Seven years after 9-11, in late winter 2008, I was asked to join a team of doctors in Thailand to make a documentary about their medical mission work. They partnered with a church in Bangkok, and traveled north to the Hill Tribes up near the Chinese border. Here is a portion of that work.

That clip and many others at its host site mark the beginning of a sense and sensitivity God gave me for our Asian neighbors half-a-world away.

Fast forward another seven years to the fall of 2014, when quite out of the blue, I was invited to join a team of educators on a two-week tour of schools in China. In hindsight, the goals of the tour were somewhat ambitious. We entered into three different "contracts" declaring "sister school status" between Calvary Christian Schools in the U.S. and the schools we visited in China.

The contracts were non-binding, and as it turned out, not much came from the meetings at those schools. BUT... I did learn much about their culture, government, and  educational system, and how they each affect the other.

For instance, as we toured Tienanmen Square, I learned from our young Chinese interpreter that there was no "Tank Man." When I tried to describe the iconic image of the brave student willing to be run over by a military tank, she looked puzzled and kindly stated that, though she was not born until after 1989, she was sure there was no such student protest. Not ever."

"But the whole world saw the pictures," I insisted politely. I think it happened just a few months before the Berlin Wall came down," Still a blank look. It was then I realized that this charming college-educated new member of the Communist Party was not claiming that the photographs of "Tank Man" were fake or "photo-shopped" or American propaganda. She was certain the event never happened because she had never seen such an image or heard of the most famous student protest in history.

"I don't think that ever happened," she said with an earnest smile. Like a naive American, I said,

"Sure it did.. I think it was 1989. I'll Google it when we get back to the hotel and show you."  She smiled. She knew something I did not know.

When I logged on to Chinese internet, I learned there was no Google in China. As I used a Chinese search engine to find an image of Tank Man... it was clear no such image existed. No such event had ever happened. The government had expunged the past from an entire generations prologue. It was the most sobering moment of an otherwise wonderful trip.

Several months after returning to the U.S., through a series of Providentially connected dots, I met a man who had been in Tienanmen Square during those protests. He told me that Tank Man most assuredly was real. He had written about it in his book, which my mother-in-law had given to me for Christmas. The book tells the story of how he became a Christian around the same time as his time at the Tienanmen Square protest. How? He was taking an English Class at university, and his American professor gave him a book to practice reading in English. The book was about the life of Hudson Taylor, possibly the same book my mother had read to me some fifteen years before. Through that book and the subsequent meetings with his professor, the young student in great personal turmoil became a Christian soon before he was imprisoned for his involvement at Tienanmen Square.

You should read his book to enjoy the adventurous journey to the U.S.--it is an amazing page-turner of faith and action. It prompted me to write the author a letter, which my father-in-law delivered in person at a Voice of the Martyrs Conference. A few months later, in May of 2015, the recipient of that letter invited me to Wheaten, IL, to meet him and the English professor who led him to Christ those many years ago.

It was at that meeting with the author [whose name I do not use here out of caution], that we first discussed the discreet goal of serving the children of "house church" pastors in China by getting them to our school in the U.S..  In the fall of 2015, the author was the keynote speaker at Calvary's Fall Banquet. Our discussion continued, and through the months we met twice again and communicated frequently. Two different attempts to enroll the children of Chinese house church pastors failed.

Then in July, 2018, the author asked if I would be willing again to try to help a Chinese house church pastor who lived in one of the original missionary centers established by 19th Century HUDSON TAYLOR. This pastor had a son who wanted desperately to attend CCS. I agreed to help, and a roller coaster of hope and disappointment began. This ride lasted longer than the previous cases--six months to be exact. Due to this Chinese pastor's extraordinary circumstances, many obstacles interfered with what is already a complicated process. The first attempt in August was rejected after the second interview. Then we sent all the paperwork again in October, but that entire package was intercepted. Only an empty envelope was later found at the post office.

A third and final attempt was carefully executed in December, and just when it seemed doomed to fail again, at long last, God opened the door and a brave young man named Enoch was soon on his way to America.

What started as a temporary blog with a fictitious name is now, a year later, the story of how God was laying the groundwork for his story long before Hudson Taylor lived in Enoch's province and long before my friendship with a pastor who had been a student at Tienanmen Square and whose own troubled past seems prologue to what is yet to come in the life of young Enoch for the glory of  God.

"And I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ." Philippians 1:6 ESV

[On to Chapter 1]

Chapter 1: "Perhaps as God Must See"

For the first time he saw his world,

perhaps as God must see,

from high above the earth.

Then swooping down,

the sphere was gone...

and continents were blurred,

and like a bird he hovered

over pixelated shadows

slowly taking shape.

“Guiyang?” he asked himself aloud 

unsure if he was there...

“Guiyang?” he whispered yet again.

The word hung in the air.
© Tom Kapanka, Janyary, 2019 

It had been three days since Enoch arrived, days spent mostly in deep sleep, punctuated with quiet tears, and blanketed in a secret wish to rewind the past week and be home in his own bed.

He did not share these feelings with us, but the morning before when my wife Julie offered to help him transfer his large suitcase to the closet we had vacated just for him, he politely insisted we leave his suitcase packed, just as his mother had packed it, and we nodded sympathetically. It would remain packed for over a month, and not until the day he moved into the closet by himself, did he confide in us his deepest longing and the real reason he did not unpack: He was waiting for the call that said, he could come home. But instead each week's WhatsApp call from his parents made it more and more clear that his journey could not be reversed. Not until that reality settled into his mind was Enoch finally ready to settle into our home. Yet for all those days, he woke and smiled and went through the motions of being very happy to be here. He was in that convincing role the morning of the third day as we sat together in my office at school.

Enoch was waiting to join his classmates who were finishing a first semester exam. I thought Google Maps might be a fun way to pass time, and Enoch was willing to show me where he lived in China. Google does not exist in China, but he had heard of Google Maps in school. His teacher explained how the Americans could watch all parts of the world, and he was eager to see how it worked.

Our internet was a bit slow that morning, but finally he was able to zoom in from the full round globe to the continent of China, and the shapes on the flat-screen monitor came into focus.

“Yes. This is Guiyang,” Enoch smiled. [Guiyang is pronounced "Gwee-yawng."]

Enoch's  English is very thoughtful and precise. His accent, pace, and phrasing are typical of intelligent Asian students who have studied English for years but have not engaged in American conversation. He is ever eager to learn new words, and once he hears one, he stops the conversation, pronounces it, defines it aloud, pronounces it again, and says "Got it." And just like that, he has it. It may sound cliché, but he does blend or transpose the "R" and "L" consonants (because those sounds do not exist in most Asian languages). All of this adds charm to our conversations. I mention it here only to help readers hear his voice in the written lines of these chapters.

With the mouse in his hand, he became the teacher and I the student. Zooming out to a higher elevation, she said, "This province is called  Guizhou. ["Gwee" + "Joe" with the second syllable sounding like that of the French car Peugeot]. Guiyang is the capital city of the province of Guizhou." 

"Can you find your school in the city?" I asked.

“I think so. Here. I'll show you," he smiled. Then zooming closer on the satellite image, his cursor began to scamper down streets like a mouse in a maze.  "This way… Now down this street. I know this corner. Take this turn." He zoomed in a bit. "Where did it go?" The pixelated forms slowly took shape again, and the frantic mouse came to a stop as if finding the cheese. Enoch smiled with satisfaction.

“Here it is. That building there in the middle. That is my school.”

For a moment, Enoch sat in silence, staring at the flat screen and the rooftop of a place he had been just days before. The image was, in fact, a large six-story building lost in a myriad of other rooftops and streets spread out like pieces of a puzzle only Enoch knew.

“So that is how Google works. Amazing!” he said, practicing one of his favorite words.

"Yes. Like a camera in the sky. It's done with a satellite" I explained.

He leaned in to look at the screen. “It makes the world seem small." 

“Yes it does,” I agreed. “I’ve done this, too. I've found the places where I lived a long time ago. It felt strange to see the…”  I was about to say "...to see the yard I mowed as a boy," but I did not finish that sentence for fear that talk of home might be too hard for him. Home is a powerful word--and I'd been told the day before in a private phone call with one of our contacts (a man who asked to be called only "Stone") that Enoch had called home on WhatsApp that first night he was with us. He was understandably homesick and wondering if his courage was strong enough to stay the course that had held such appeal before passing "the point of no return."

To my surprise, Enoch took the mouse again in hand to move the cursor on the screen.

“Here is where I meet the bus to return home at night," he smiled.

I noticed that he used the present tense "meet" not "met" or "used to meet the bus."  Too soon it was to say aloud that he was speaking of a bus he would never ride again.

“Is it a school bus? Like the yellow one you saw in our parking lot?” I asked.

“No. In China school bus is very rare. Just city bus. Guiyang invented bus system with no tickets. We just step on bus and pay with money. Many other cities copy this idea after us, but we were first to not use tickets.”

I was pleased to hear some hometown pride in spite of all the pain he'd experienced there.

The cursor continued moving along the bus route he had taken to and from school every day since beginning high school three semesters before. He explained that caught the bus at 7:00AM. Endured a grueling nine-hour class schedule with a dinner break at 6:00PM followed by two-hour "study time." Then he caught  the bus back home at 8:30PM.

“I get home at nine o’clock,” he said."It's dark."

“And then you go to bed?” I asked.

“No. Then I do homework until 1:30 in the middle of the night.”

My face went from puzzled to sad. But wait. There’s more. He went on to tell me he takes this bus route to school every Saturday for half-day, and every Sunday evening for scheduled classroom tests.

“We have no weekends. It’s crazy,” he said.  [Crazy and Amazing are English words he enjoys saying. Wow is another. We have heard these three words often of late.]

He knew the bus route well and the mouse cursor moved along its path down winding streets and stretches of road toward the eastern outskirts of Guiyang, a city of well over three million people.

“It is a thirty minute ride by bus each way,” Enoch said in teacher-mode. Then his hand stopped, the mouse stopped, and the cursor stopped in place. With his finger he pointed to a general area to the right of the screen. “This is a mountain. A long hill. I live somewhere up there but I don’t see the street.”

The screen was in focus. The image was clear. The cursor was waiting to continue across the satellite image, but he had ended the search. I had to assume he did not want to see “home” some 12,000 miles away. It was one thing to show me his school from a bird’s eye view, but perhaps seeing home was another. He did not say these things, but the cursor stopped and he was done.

We had spoken of home the day before as we drove to school. Staring out the window he said, “We do not have houses in China. Not like this with fields and trees [he meant yards]. Everyone I know lives in apartment building surrounded by many other apartment buildings. We live in the older section. We are poor, and Guiyang is a poor city compared to Beijing and Shanghai.” When Enoch uses the word “poor” there is no shame in the word—it is merely an objective assessment. He was simply contrasting what he knew of his own living conditions to the houses we were driving past. We did not see the families who lived in the homes. We did not know their incomes. We saw only semi-rural, middle-class American homes with cars and landscaping and split-rail fences keeping nothing out or in. Each detail reflected a way of life unfamiliar to Enoch.

As I turned onto the final road on the way to Calvary, I changed the topic to things that matter more than houses, and he seemed encouraged, but in truth it is Enoch who encouraged me. He has the gift of teaching while learning things himself.

So now, a day later in my office, when he chose not to show me his home as seen from Google maps, I may have read too much into why he stopped his search. I only know he did—perhaps for fear that seeing the place—even just its roof like a puzzle piece from high above--would be too much to bear. After all, it had only been a blur of days and nights since he was there.

"Enough of maps for now!” I smiled, closing out the program. “Tell me more about your school. What was it like as you prepared to come to Calvary?”
© Tom Kapanka, Janyary, 2019
[On to Chapter 2]

Chapter 2: "A Pat on the Back"

[Note: This entry is dated 1-29-20 only to create chapter sequence. Back to Chapter 1]

Each morning at breakfast during his first week in America, Enoch and I had time to talk at his pace. It is always an enjoyable conversation. He learned new words and I learned more about what life was like in China.  He had arrived several days before Second Semester began, and in hindsight, these days of rest and casual interaction, more than anything, helped establish a sense of home away from home.

The day after the Google Maps experience, we had a late start to school, which gave us two hours for breakfast. We each poured a bowl of Cheerios. As we rinsed out our dishes in the sink, Enoch asked if he could also have some "leave overs."

The night before, as he helped us clear the table, Julie (whom he calls "Mom" at home and "Mrs. K" at school) had explained the term "left overs" in reference to some pieces of chicken and mashed potatoes and gravy that we covered and put back in the refrigerator. Cheerios were fine, but he really wanted some "leave overs."

I began to explain how to use the microwave, but he said, "In China we have--how you say? MIKE-RO-what?"

"Wave... microwave." I said.

"We do not say 'MIKE-RO-WAVE.' but we have. It is most important part of kitchen."

"Here, too," I laughed."We zap everything."

"Zep? What is zep?"

"Not zep--ZAP. Instead of saying 'I will microwave the left-overs' We would say 'I'll Zap them.'"

"Zap," he said. "How long should I zap potatoes?" (He is a quick study.)

"Oh, about one minute for each: chicken, potatoes, and the gravy. I like to get the gravy hot first and then pour over the potatoes."

Three minutes later, Enoch sat back down to the breakfast table with his zapped chicken and potatoes with gravy. "We do not have gravy in China," he said, "but I like it very much. It's dericious." [Enoch says "delicious" often--always with the medial "r" sound.] "Do you not eat Cheerios with leave over chicken and potatoes?"

"I don't, but if you like it. Go right ahead."

After a long pause and some bites of food, he said, "Yesterday you wanted to know about my school before I came to Calvary. This is something I have been waiting to tell you. But first, I need to say something about China that is very different from here."

"Okay. Take your time. I will listen," I said, all ears.

"Already here, this week, at Calvary the teachers smile and say hello even just to pass in halls. They shake my hand, and when you met me at airport, you both gave me hug. In China, this would not be."

"Does that bother you?" I asked. "We will not do it if it bothers you."

"No. It doesn't bother me at all. It is nice. Everyone here is very kind. My classmates and the teachers are very kind. But in China these things do not happen."

In that moment, I remembered something that I learned in Thailand. We met hundreds of little children in the mountain villages near the China boarder, and our translators told us not to pat the children on the top of the head. "In America this shows affection, but in this culture it is very bad, so please do not pat the children on the head." Remembering that cultural advice from 2008, I asked Enoch a similar question.

"Before you go on, let me ask you a question: Does it bother you when I pat you on the back and say 'Good job.'  It is very natural for me to do it, but I can stop. We call that a 'pat on the back.' It is to encourage you."

"Pat... on... the...back?" He struggled at the words. "This is not something that I know."

I demonstrated and said, "'Good job!' That is a 'pat on the back.' It is always meant to be good."

"Oh, that. Yes. I like that. It is very encouraging," He nodded. "But let me continue because that is what I mean to tell you. In China these things do not happen. Ever. Even my favorite teachers would never do such a thing. We do not touch. We do not show our feelings. In fact. We do not say 'Thank you' as many times as you say in America. I learn to say 'Thank you' in English class, and they taught us that Americans say it for many reasons,  but we do not say it in Chinese."

"What about 'xiexie'?" I asked.

"Yes. That means 'Thank you,' but in China we don't say it for every nice thing. Not even to our parents do we say so much. This does not mean we are not thankful. It just means Chinese keep feelings inside...even 'thank you' feelings. To know my school, you must first know that there is no one who smile or say thank you to student--except one teacher one time. I want to tell you about her."

"In China, we have a head teacher in charge of each grade. All other subject teachers she is in charge. My 10th grade head teacher was Ms. Joy. [Names have been changed, and this is NOT a picture of Mrs. Joy but a pleasant illustration of how I picture her.] I liked her very much. She is very good teacher but also helped me on days when I... on difficult days."

"Did she know about your father?" I risked asking.

"No. I don't think so. I don't think any person at my school knew about my father. When they ask me where he is, I just say, 'He is away on business...'" He winced a little with that confession, not knowing if I would approve.

"It is okay that you said that, Enoch. He really was away on business: God's business. Right?"

"Yes... very much God's business," he smiled cleverly. "But they did not know where he really was. No one knew. Only our church knew, but my parents told me never to say. So I do not think Ms. Joy knew why I was sad sometimes, but she always smile--that is uncommon in China but she always smile and be happy each day, and she encourage me many times."

"So at the end of my 10th grade year, a friend and I go to third floor to Ms. Joy's office and I thank her for being so kind each day that whole year. Then I ask, 'Can I give you a hug?' This confused her. She said, 'Why? I am not going away. I will see you at school next year.' I said, 'But you are not my head teacher next year. I will miss you.' And then she gave me hug. It was very sweet. No teacher ever did that before. You have to know about Ms. Joy to know what I tell you next... about this year...my 11th grade so far... the months before I came to Calvary."

Enoch began to tell a story that seemed to paraphrase page one of Dickens's A Tale of Two Cities: It could have read like this "It was the best of times; it was the worst of times. My 10th grade head teacher made school the best ; my 11th grade head teacher made it the worst ... My season of Light became a season of Darkness; my spring of hope became a winter of despair..." 

It was especially hard to hear what he told me next because our correspondence had begun in July, 2018, before his 11th grade year began. Had our plan to get him a student visa worked the first time, he would have been here in September not January, and his lingering memories of his former school would have been the kindness shown by Ms. Joy. But instead, a different teacher treated him horribly. He wanted me to know that the plan to come to America was not because of this second teacher, but she did make him more eager to leave. When our second attempt failed, he remained determined to try again. More than once, as if someone had given him a pat on the back, he closed his emails with... "God is in charge of tomorrow." 

[On to Chapter 3]

Sidebar: "The Opiate of the Masses"

[Note: This entry is dated 1-28-20 to create chapter sequence. Back to Chapter 2]

Before I proceed with Chapter 3, I should clarify something I've stressed with Enoch in our conversations:  I care about the Chinese people.

In 2014, while traveling broadly across China, I met hundreds of "strangers" in China who were very kind to me. My struggle is not with the people of China but the atheistic heart of Communism that has controlled that nation for seventy years.

I grew up during Chairman Mao's "Cultural Revolution" in China.  The mothers of American kids my age told their children to finish eating their meal because "People are starving in China." Sadly, that was very true, but during those same years, I incorrectly thought that all of the people in China were Communists, that they all treated Mao's little Red Book like the Bible while rejecting  everything to do with God. Some did but not all.

It is true that the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) has become the world's largest political party (with over 83 million members all of which are told to embrace atheism), but it is also true that that membership of the CCP represents only 13% of  China's population (1.4 billion). In other words, never in the history of the world have so many lived under so few in absolute power.

In the U.S. "balance of power" system, flawed as it may be, there are basically two clashing parties wrestling in countless stalemates affecting slow changes within a constitutionally-based government. We have a civilian controlled military and local de-centralized control of states, counties, municipalities, school districts, etc. Different branches of government can defy the very "throne" so to speak (and they often do). This is not trues in China where the CCP controls every aspect of life from womb to tomb. They make the laws and choose how to enforce them. They are the military, the intelligence, the local police, the hospitals, the landlords, the schools and universities. They control commerce, immigration, the public transportation, the airport security, etc. You are not "free to move about the country," as Southwest says. To move from province to province for any reason requires advanced authorization from the Party. (For instance, if two parents wanted their son to visit Hong Kong for reasons of their own, they would also have to state legitimate reasons that the authorities would approve.)

The Party even controls an institution it would prefer to exterminate: the church. To appease the weak adults who need the "opiate of the masses," they oversee the approved a framework for "church" (only about 2-3% attend approved churches). These churches abide by Party guidelines, which include facial recognition cameras facing the congregation to ensure that Party members and college students and children under 18 do not enter the services. The strategy of keeping young people out of church is an attempt to stop the generational contagion of faith.

There is only one place where the whole family of faith (young and old) can be involved in worship and study; one place where Chinese believers can share life as prescribed in the New Testament; that place is the unapproved "house church" (or "family church" as Enoch calls them). The following video describes the plight of such churches:

I'm sure readers here understand why I hold no ill will toward more than a billion people who for seven decades have endured the absolute control of such a system. Ideas have consequences, and nations built on the notion of expelling God and rejecting the principles of His Word fill the void with tragic social experiments. This has proven true of all nations, past and present, all over the earth for all time. God cannot be expelled from any place. That much is known, but what is ours to imagine is what life is like under a powerful system bent on trying to expelling Him.

I have seen such despair in China, but I have also seen light in the eyes of those whose hope is not in governments or godless leaders but in the Lord. Before we hastily judge the results of such a direct assault on Creator God, let's not forget that here in the U.S. there has been a similar attempt to keep God out of our schools; to shut the mouths of those who embrace His Word; to show feigned tolerance for people of faith. Here, too, we see similar condescension to let God be an "opiate of the masses" for those who need it. It sometimes feels as if our own leadership is saying, "Let's allow enough talk of God to maintain plausible deniability that we reject Him."  Or as Pastor Wilber Rees satirized nearly fifty years ago in his poem:

"$3.00 Worth of God."

I would like to buy $3 worth of God, please.
Not enough to explode my soul or disturb my sleep,
but just enough to equal a cup of warm milk
or a snooze in the sunshine...
I want ecstasy, not transformation.
I want warmth of the womb, not a new birth.
I want a pound of the Eternal in a paper sack.
I would like to buy $3 worth of God, please.

— Wilbur Rees

Rees's was describing the "feel good" minimization of God characteristic of America's post-Christian culture. His words are not all that different from the full quotation of Karl Marx from nearly a century ago: "The struggle against religion is, therefore, indirectly the struggle against that world whose spiritual aroma is religion.... Religion is the sigh of the oppressed creature, the heart of a heartless world, and the soul of soulless conditions. It is the opium of the people."  Whether Christ followers are silenced by communism (3 million at a time) or capitalism (at $3 a pound), the end result is pretty much the same, and yet through the centuries of men trying to take God's place, the searching heart continues to cry out to Abba Father, the true and living God.  

As light-bearers, Christians are called to love those in the dark even as they love one another.  With that in mind, please know that the following chapter, while unflattering, is told with sympathy for all of the characters involved.

[On to Chapter 3]

Chapter 3: "And Enoch Was No More"

[Note: This entry is dated 1-27-20 only to create chapter sequence.Back to Chapter 2]

I am far from being an expert on China. I realize that a two week tour (2014) of four major cites is a bit like the story poem about the six blind men describing the elephant. It would be easy to think I have seen China, but in truth I know only glimpses of three provinces. And the differences between one province and another are far greater than the differences between states in the U.S..  As I've been told, there is "old party" China and "progressive" China. The mindset of some provinces is decades behind others. There is also a generational divide. The 2008 Beijing Olympics, for instance, opened international doors and sparked an optimism in those who are now age 30 or younger (those who cannot resist making a peace sign during a photograph). But that enthusiasm is not equally distributed across the Chinese mainland.

Enoch's province (see Chapter 1) is very entrenched in the old ways. Only the "city center" shows hint of 21st Century development. The rest of the urban sprawl is very crowded, with smells of diesel buses and the whine of motor cycles leap-frogging up the narrow streets and rows of older apartment buildings covering what once were the foothills of more distant mountains. The grid of monotonous streets lack parks and  "green spaces" and show no visible signs of nature but the sound of local roosters crowing every morning. (Enoch says he hates them waking him at 4:00 in the morning, but some neighbors raise chickens for eggs and for sale.) I saw nothing like Guiyang when I was in China, but I love hearing Enoch talk about it. Oddly, I show more interest in my questions about his home town than Enoch shows in his reply. There is an emotional detachment, which could be protective in his present or reflective of his past.

[This is NOT a picture of Enoch's 11th grade teacher but an illustration as I imagine her.]

I have never met the two teachers that contrast Enoch's 10th grade (Chapter 2) and the first half of 11th grade (described below) before he came to Calvary. Based on how these events have been told to me, however, I'm inclined to think Ms. Joy was more like those educators I met in 2014 who were eager to see their students succeed, even by going to school in the U.S. It is quite possible that Ms. Joy knew of Enoch's family story, of his father being a pastor, perhaps even of his imprisonment, and that she admired Enoch because of these things. She certainly treated him as though this were the case.

By contrast, it is quite possible that Enoch's 11th grade teacher, Ms. Glum I will call her, also knew Enoch's story and resented him. Or it is possible that she was simply the product of oppression (described in Sidebar 1). Or it is possible that she was just "that short-fused teacher" we all have had who likes to pick on one unfortunate kid in the class. Based on how these events have been told to me, maybe all three of the above are true.

It was actually the same conversation in which Enoch explained a "pat on the back" does not exist in China--not even from a favorite teacher. He told me about that, to provide context for what happened to him in the six months that we were trying and failing to begin his journey to Calvary.

*************

"She stood at front like teachers do," Enoch said, "No smile. Very not nice, and she said in Chinese, 'Officials ask us to fill out this form. They ask us if we have any Christian in our class, and I tell them, 'We have no Christians in my class.' And then she looked at each student and me, and said again, 'We have no Christians. Correct? That is good. I will tell them 'None.' Now take out your book."

"Had a teacher ever surveyed with that question before?" I asked.

"No. Only Ms, Glum. She said she was asked to find out if Christians. But first she told us how we must answer before she even asked."

"Are there other Christians in your school or in your class?"  I followed up.

"No. Not in my grade or in my school. Only me, but they do not know I am Christian. My parents tell me not to get in trouble with the teachers. They have big power."

"Maybe there are other silent Christians who don't speak to keep out of trouble." I suggested.

"I don't think so. The people in Family Churches know who each other are," he said with confidence. "We just be careful to not talk about it when not in church."

"Even so, Enoch, I don't understand how your teachers do not know about your father. I can show you many many articles about your father on-line in the U.S. Are you sure Ms. Glum does not know you are a Christian?"

"I do not think teachers at my school knew about the Party closing our church and where my father..." Here he paused then whispered, "Do you know my father was in prison?"

I was surprised by this question, but in thinking back on our six months of emails, Enoch and I were not free to speak about his father. I always wrote as if the same plain-clothes police that watch his house also had a way to read his email. I learned of Enoch's father's wrongful imprisonment through my American contacts, but in truth, it was his father's tragedy that gave birth to this plan. My American contacts gave my information to Enoch's father in July, 2018. He had just been released from prison for being pastor of a house church that had grown too large for officials to ignore. He had  just been told of a school in the U.S. called Calvary. This school would accept his son. He had just learned of the great level of trust between his American contact (who had also been in a Chinese prison for his faith) and the headmaster at Calvary. I said none of this to Enoch because the mystery of how our paths had crossed and how he came to be sitting at my breakfast table was a subject we had not yet discussed.

So when he whispered, "Do you know my father was in prion, I simply said,"Yes. I have known about why your father was in prison since the first day you wrote me. I believe he is courageous, your mother is courageous, and you are very courageous."

Enoch smiled and took great comfort in knowing that I knew a secret he thought he had been keeping from me.

"But in China," Enoch continued to explain, "No one knows this thing about my father. No one I know speaks of the [name of] Church or my father. That is why I say nothing at school when Ms. Glum asked that thing. If I speak out, many others--not me--pay the price. We are not afraid but always careful. But even though I cause no trouble at school, Ms. Glum, try every day to make my life miserable. She blame me for talking when I do not talk. She tells class to put away work and just sit. Just waste time, so I read a book or do homework, and she humiliated me in front of whole class for trying to make use of minutes."

"Enoch," I said, "I think Ms. Glum did know you were a Christian. I think she did know about your father. Maybe not, but why else would she do these things?"

"Because she is bitter like coffee without CoffeeMate."

[Enoch does not like coffee, but a few days before he had watched me use French Vanilla CoffeeMate. He tried it. "Dericious," he smiled, poured many glugs into his cup (about 1 to 1 ratio), and drank it down in a few gulps. But back to the story...]

"Ms. Glum just hates me. Even the other students say this. When I am sad, they say, 'Don't worry that she is angry--that is normal for her.'"

"Enoch," I interrupted, "What was your last day at that school like? Were you allowed to tell anyone you were going?"

"No. I could tell no one. There is one friend. My good friend. We do homework together. She is very good at science."

"She?" I smiled.

"No. It is not like that. She is in 10th grade. We are just very good friends. My last week, I went to her room at lunch time--we eat in our classrooms by grade, but I left my room and went to her room and say, 'Can I eat lunch with you?' She smiled and said 'yes,' but that is all. I could not tell her I was leaving, but I wanted to have lunch with her because we are just friends."

I smiled. "Was the last day at school hard. I mean... knowing it was your last day?"

"I did not exactly know it was my last day. My parents did not want me to know which day was my last day. We do not have lockers like what I have at Calvary. Just book bags [backpacks] full of books. I carried mine home full just like any day. Walk out the school just like any day. See my classmates get off the bus halfway home just like any day. Then when I got home,  my father said, 'Tomorrow we visit your grandmother, and then you will go to Hong Kong. It is not safe to wait for passport here.'"

"It was very smart for him to not tell you which day was your last. Maybe he thought you might be sad at school." I said, trying to put myself in his father's shoes.

"Yes. I think so. Also I was excited. I was nervous. I was many things because no one could know. Not even my grandmother."

"Does she live in your city?" I asked.

"Yes. Not far away. We went to see her. My parents knew I would want to say goodbye, but I could not say why I came on a school day. They told her it was a special day. Not until I was in Hong Kong and on the plane did they tell her where I was going."

"And what about your study friend? Does she know where you are?"

"Yes. She knows now. I texted her two nights ago to study biology."

"What?" I smiled. "You can text her in China? Is that safe?"

"Yes. All my classmates know now. They know I am in America. My study friend was mad at me. She asked me why I did not tell her, but I could only say 'There are reasons I could not say.' She said that if I had told her I was leaving, she would not have eaten lunch with me those last two days."

"I think she likes you..." I warned with a smile.

"No it was not like that," he blushed a bit. "And I am here now... so, good luck. That can't be."

"But after you told her she was still willing to help you with your biology again?" I asked, intrigued more than ever at this new information.

"Yes. She is very smart and good at biology. She agrees we can still study sometimes even though she says I am foolish for going to America."

"Enoch, someday I believe you will be free to explain to her everything that you cannot explain now."

"Yes," he smiled, "When the party is over."

We both laughed. I was not sure he knew the double meaning of his remark. "Is that something you  say with friends at your old school?" I asked.

His face feigned horror. "No. I could never say that. Only here am I free to say what I think."

"How did Ms. Glum find out you were gone?"

"My mother and father went to my school to get my transcripts for Calvary. First they saw Ms. Joy. When they told her I was in America to study. She was very happy for me. She said something like, 'Oh, Enoch, will be big successful.' But she did not say 'Enoch' because they only know my Chinese name."

"But she was happy for you? I'm glad ..."

"Yes. Very happy. She is my best teacher. But do you know what Ms. Glum did when my parents went to her classroom to tell her? She make them feel shame. She said, 'You are bad example to all of these students.' They were standing in the doorway of classroom where Ms. Glum is in charge and all my classmates were sitting there. That is when they learned I was gone. But do you know what else she did? She told one of the boys to pull my seat [desk] out of the room, and she said out loud, 'Pull it out now. Take it away. There. You see? There is no seat for Enoch at this school ever again.' She did not say Enoch, but she said that to my parents. No place for me there ever again. She told them I can never come back. And my parents just stood and watched..."

He stopped talking, searching as he does for English words to clarify his feelings, but no more words came. He just looked at me and shook his head. His eyes were brimming, and so were mine.

It was sad to hear him tell me, but in truth I had already been told what Ms. Glum did by "Stone" our contact and translator between Enoch's home and ours. He had called me a few days after we picked Enoch up at the airport. He wanted me to know that Enoch's parents are very very happy he is with us but that we may need to be patient with him for a few days. He was far more homesick than he ever imagined. Far more afraid than he had feared. This past six months were like something from a book. The months of planning; the paperwork, the red tape, the stressful visa interviews. the failed attempts; the secrecy even as we did everything legally; the goodbyes without the word goodbye; the being swept off to Hong Kong with less than a day's notice; the long flight; the tired smile with the "Enoch" sign at the airport; the first meal with total strangers; the 12-hour jet lag; the sleeping for nearly 24 hours straight... and then the news... the finality... the banishment declared by Ms. Glum. It is one thing to successfully beat the odds and fulfill your family's dream of getting to America. It is another thing to be told sternly that you can never come back. At first this broke his heart, and he wept with his parents on the phone. His mother prayed with him, and that helped tremendously, but still he bore this heartache in secret during the many hours of privacy behind the closed door of his room.

When he came out of his room after two days of sleep, he was smiles and ever grateful to all of the people who made this happen. All that was going on between his days of rest upon arriving and this conversation at the breakfast table. Rather than telling him I knew of his difficulty, I just let him tell me about it himself.

"When my father told me this I was very sad. He told me that my second day here with you. I called him on the phone. I was so tired, and you were so kind to let me sleep and sleep. I feel much better now, and everyone at Calvary is so kind. Now when I think of Ms. Glum, I smile to know she sees an empty place where my seat used to be."

"Enoch," I asked. "Do you remember in an email when I told you that 'Enoch' means 'walks with God'?"

"Yes. I know this."

"Well, the rest the verse says 'Enoch walked with God and was no more.' He vanished. Do you remember when you were waiting in Hong Kong to get your passport and your plane ticket? Well, Stone told me that your school called your parents asking where you were. This frightened us. Many people you do not yet know were all praying that the school would not somehow prevent the passport approval and stop you from coming to Calvary. Just think, Enoch. Even before your plane took off, Ms. Glum was asking, 'Where did Enoch go?' Just like the verse in the Bible: 'Enoch walked with God and was no more.'"

"It's true," he smiled, "Enoch was no more..."

[on to Chapter 4]