After the Quake - A Personal Retrospective

忍“Ren” - a blade over the heart - is the Chinese pictogram meaning “endure.” So have Chinese, peasants especially, endured for centuries nature’s violence and the miseries brought on by man himself. “Ren” came to mind again and again as I looked at the faces of folk in places along the fault line of the May 12 earthquake. Being barely two months since the greatest natural shock China has had in three decades, the stoicism I saw everywhere was remarkable. But like many farmhouses and buildings in towns, cracks could be seen only close up. With crops ripening in the summer heat, men and women - especially the women! - were hard at work in the fields. But one village leader pointed to the shattered storehouse - “Where will we put our grain?”

Underlying the “business as usual” atmosphere was unease and frustration. Immediately after the calamity, emergency relief drowned the pain in a tide of national sympathy and support that China had never seen on this scale. The government earned well-deserved praise for its quick, comprehensive response, which included deploying trained emergency crews and military manpower as well as allowing access into hard-hit areas for hordes of private volunteers who drove in their own carloads of food and water, bandages and sympathy. Ubiquitous in the quake zones were blue tents with white letters identifying the donors usually a business, government department or non-government organization (NGO) from some other province.

It was heartwarming to see house-church young people who had come more than a thousand miles to try and help Sichuan’s farmers and share the gospel with them. These young Christians were part of a widespread, spontaneous response on the part of many churches across China to send aid in the name of Christ to their fellow countrymen afflicted by the quake. Yet it wasn’t quite as straightforward as they had expected. “We don’t know how to begin the conversation about Jesus,” said a team leader. “Villagers go out early in the morning to the fields and don’t get back until nightfall. The only chance is at meals and they don’t have time just to sit and listen to us.” Seldom have I bumped up against such a vivid example of the cultural and social gulf between hinterland peasants and urbanites from the east coast. The house church leader who was mentoring these students encouraged them not to count their success merely by the number of converts they won, but rather in the depth of relationships they were able to forge with village families

For me, the balance and practicality of this pastor’s faith was a rock amid the uncertainties of the post-quake recovery environment. Pastor Om and another brother, Lew, took me and others to survey different villages and their needs; then we put together plans to help villagers build temporary housing. In God’s design, I was one link in a chain to connect the needs, physical and spiritual, with outside donors and agencies providing resources to local Christians who are able to incorporate the aid into a holistic evangelistic effort. As Pastor Om commented to his young team, “We want to evangelize, but with wisdom. The most important thing is to let our life be seen.”

These and other believers I met realize the limitations of what they can do. Another pastor told me, “We can’t do the big things - that’s the government’s job. We want to help where the damage has been bad, but not bad enough to attract sufficient help.” Finding the right place, the right project, that can be handled by smaller house church networks, channeling the right amount of money so as not to overwhelm the recipients - these were the challenges that faced my colleagues and me during that lull between the geological quake and the sociological one, the Olympics, which also profoundly affected China in 2008. By God’s grace we were able to launch a couple of these small, medium-term projects in receptive villages. Other villages we visited had metaphorically closed their doors to Christians. In one richer community nearer the city, farmers were busy re-establishing their fungus business in which they had invested hundreds of thousands of RMB - no time for spiritual things when there’s money to be made!

In yet another zone along the fault, my colleagues and I played the role of “essential outsiders” - bringing together two existing ministries who, though acquainted, were unaware of each other’s specific interest in, and opportunity to reach, children and a minority ethnic group. The latter had been displaced as refugees from their traditional, inaccessible homeland. As a result of our meetings one afternoon, resources provided by one ministry made it possible for the second to respond to new openings among these previously unreached peoples.

It is too early to tell the lasting impact of this earthquake. The church’s spontaneous outpouring of practical love and care may have surprised some of the more fundamentalist Christians themselves; suddenly they saw the value and validity of “social service” as a witness to the Lord Jesus Christ. More Christian-run schools, clinics, foster homes, etc., may result from this seismic upheaval - subject, of course, to official approval.

The Sichuan quake thrust into stark prominence the need of counseling ministries across China. Cracked buildings are a metaphor for the perilous state of parent-child, husband-wife, sibling and generational relationships among the greatest mass of people on earth. Tending physical hurts leads to awareness of the need to address emotional wounds, and not just those resulting from the disaster. This is an opportunity for ministry to which outside Christians can respond. The Chinese church does not yet have the capacity to provide qualified counselors (psychiatrists, clinical psychologists) which their society desperately needs. Outsiders can contribute both in hands-on counseling roles, and by training Chinese colleagues.

Above the paddy fields and wrecked villages, rugged hills delineate the Longmen (Dragon Gate) fault. Atop a peak in sight of the villages where our recovery efforts have begun to open hearts to the gospel, a Daoist temple stands guard. It will take more than an earthquake to topple spiritual strongholds in this place. Persistent prayer and the steady, long-term demonstration of God’s character through acts of love and care - these are how we will see Jesus lifted high above the Sichuan plain. Will you join us in that prayer?