799 Words

This'n here is my b log archive. iffin youins fancy readin' muh knew scribblins ya ken fend 'er yonder:

YONDER BLOG

Have you ever played the game Mad Gab? If you have skip the rest of this paragraph: the “it” person reads a short phrase off of a card aloud to his team. To him the words look like complete gibberish. The card might read “yewl bees or re,” which makes no sense, but to his team hopefully it actually sounds like (or approaches sounding like) “you‘ll be sorry.” The team tries to guess as many phrases a they can before time runs out.

They’re playing Mad Gab in China without knowing it. The Chinese character system is so complex that, in order to give foreigners an outside chance at literacy, there’s a hybrid (written) Chinese language that uses the English alphabet (It’s a phonetic rendering of Chinese sounds with accent marks denoting the proper tones). For an American the system makes reading possible. But for Chinese, this “pinion” language amounts to a game of Mad Gab in which they not only have to be the reader, but also the guesser (they must say the sound indicated by the pinion letters, and then ask themselves…the word that I just said, what did it sound like?) if they hope to derive meaning.
One of the coolest things about Chinese characters is their basis in practical reality. They‘re like hieroglyphics (perhaps they are hieroglyphics) -sketches of real things put together to tell a story. For example, when I’m in the valley of decision (trying to figure out which bathroom is for dudes) I need to look for a drawing of a field that includes the pen-stroke for strong. “Field Strong,” that’s “man.” The symbol for woman is harder to read, I think it’s “nag strong.”
There’s a lot of history in the characters too, some of which will really make your socks go up and down if you’re a fan of the books of Moses: the symbol for “covet” is a woman between two trees, the symbol for “boat” indicates a vessel and eight people. All this in atheist China, crazy huh?
Today we arrived in Beijing and introduced ourselves to the city’s infamous public transit system. Since arriving in Asia it’s been my dream to see the Packers in action (actually I did catch a few minutes of a Greenbay game on TV in Bangkok’s U.S. embassy waiting room, but that’s not the kind of Packers I’m referring to). The Packers are the people who are employed by the subway system to physically compress crowds in order to fit them onto trains. Today I not only got to see them working, I got packed!! I was the last person on one of the cars and that little packer pushed her hardest (yeah it was a girl, and she really had to lean into me) to make my shape fit the shape of the empty space remaining on the car.
Funny situations arise when people are in such close proximity. Breath is particularly noticeable when you end up in the front-to-front position (a position Americans customarily reserve for making out). It’s hard to figure out which air is yours to breath and which is theirs. Where should you look? What if they’re breath isn’t so bad and you wind up being attracted to them? Should you tell them or just try to remain aloof, all the while enjoying their closeness?
One guy sneezed all over his three friends. They would have liked to reach up and wipe millions of tiny snot rockets off of their necks and faces, and to beat their friend in atonement for his iniquity, but their arms were irremovably pinned to their sides by their neighbors in the train (I was one of those neighbors and narrowly avoided the blast zone). If the first guys arms hadn’t been pinned perhaps the whole ordeal could have been avoided by a well-placed hand over his sneezer.
Getting off the subway is the process of birth: Proper pushing, squeezing, and breathing must all be used to make it from the middle of the subway car to the door. Fortunately the “one child” law in China left a lot of midwives looking for work. Many of them now earn their living holding clinics on rhythmic breathing and other birth-related skills that equip people for success in moving small masses of human flesh through narrow openings in larger masses of human flesh. And what a worthy work, what is life but such movement?
Speaking of movement I’m glad I won‘t have to move far for the next few days. We’re taking a train to Mongolia, but there’s no train until this weekend, so we wait. For a person who does a lot of “passing by” it’s wonderful to stop for a bit, find a place to sit, and let the rest of the world do the passing.

MSG and Authenticity

Probably my biggest priority as a blogger is to write things that I think you (my reader) will actually read. For that reason I try to stay between 600 and 800 words -I cannot stand the thought of you getting bored while reading my blog. Today, I’ve got a lot to say. I’ll try to be concise, but I’m afraid this one might get long. If you get bored please navigate away from this page (I cringe to think I might be wasting your time). Here are some other options I’m sure you’ll find stimulating: Facebook, Hulu, Adventist Singles Connection.
In reference to my last (religious) blog I want to say this: I don’t think I am particularly gifted at peering into men’s souls, especially when language keeps me from talking to those men and I don‘t have long enough to stay with them, know them, and experience challenges with them that would expose the weaknesses of our (both mine and their) characters. I think God deliberately juxtaposed my experience meditating on what I‘ve called “wide-spread Sanctification,” with the experience He just gave me -an encounter with Chinese atheism (we got a big leg up by staying with some folks who have been living in China, and grappling hard to understand Chinese values and their spiritual significance). I definitely think there’s a lot of truth arrived at in a lot of ways, and that God works in non-Christian religions. But I no longer think it‘s necessary for me to put Christian discipleship “on trial“ in my own mind. Ways that Christianity can benefit people here are obvious. They don’t have a mechanism for forgiveness. People live with a lot of hurt and pain that God is willing to relieve them of. So I breath a sigh of relief; There is still purpose.
For those of you tired of my abstract musings who actually read my “travel blog” because you’re interested in travel, here’s your fix: Our Thai visas expired so we had to hit the road again, and with only a little over a month to get all the way to Greece (to meet Jeremy’s parents) it’s about time to boogie anyway. Our last night in Thailand was spent in Chiang Rai. I think Chiang Rai is the new Chiang Mai and I wish we would have spent more time there and less in Chiang Mai.
In one of my marketing classes we watched a documentary-ish film called “The Quest for Cool.” It’s shtick is that there are authentically new/exciting “cool” things that “cool” people (the early moving, progressive type that the rest of us try to emulate) find. Once the cool people have lent coolness to their new discovery every Jo-Blow trend follower jumps on board and it’s coolness plummets. The film studied this cycle in the fashion industry, but I’m finding the idea to be dead-on in the tourism industry. Chiang Mai appears to have peaked a long time ago. Now it’s a cash cow, helping crowds of “un-cool” tourists part with their cash (I use un-cool to mean folks who either aren’t concerned about cultural authenticity in their travels or else are ignorant in regard to that authenticity. It doesn‘t mean I don‘t think you‘re cool or that we can‘t be friends. If Paul was chief of sinners I‘m the chief of tourists).
I am, however, at least seeking authentic encounters with the gorgeous and diverse people who call this planet home. I used to think the best way to do this was to completely trash the “lonely planet” guide, but I was wrong. The guidebook is good for two things. First, it includes accurate, mildly academic (you can learn things from reading them, but still enjoy the reading) bits on history, economics, and other culture sculptors. The other main thing I think the guidebook is good for is helping you map out where NOT to go. If a place is in the “lonely planet” guide, but not described as particularly touristy, it’s “coolness” may not have peaked. It’s probably a bit touristy, but it’s also probably a good place to experience a bit of real culture while still in proximity to things like WiFi and Western toilets (if that‘s your thing…I often want those types of things). If a place is called “touristy” by the lonely planet guide you should recognize that the entire economy of that place is likely built around your dollar (I’m not saying you can’t have a good time, you can, amusement can be had in exchange for money). And to be fair, even hyper-touristy towns do still have their neighborhoods and sections where real people do real work (rather than finding clever ways to get your dollars). I think the culture is much more intact in these “real work” areas, and sadly marred in the areas where people make their grocery money by entertaining/swindling you.
(I’m sorry, I’m supposed to be telling you about the sights and sounds of Asia, I’m in a terribly editorial mood).
In America there are a lot of steps between us and our food. That’s not the case in a lot of the world. The different ways people cultivate the ground, and the micro economies and markets that spring up as a result, are some of my favorite things to see. It’s hard to see those things in touristy places because the economies and markets in the touristy areas exist because I brought green-backs.
On occasions when I find myself in unscathed territory I feel excited to see something real, but I also feel a bit hypocritical because the very fact that I’m there takes away from its realness, and if I bring my friends, take a lot of pictures, and submit raving reviews to the “lonely planet,” pretty soon that place will be another Chiang Mai. I remember a history professor in college who was against travel, I thought that was the craziest idea I’d ever heard, but if it was because she hates the flattening/westernization/materialization of the world like I do, then I at least agree with the logic. It makes sense to have the most sensitive anthropologists, historians, and linguists go undercover and do the traveling for us. We’d probably learn more from staying home and listening to their reports on the Discovery channel anyway.
(ok, that’s it for the editorial….here are some sights and sounds).
We left Thailand and entered North Western Laos. This was the least developed part of the world we’ve seen on this trip. Except for a few brick buildings in towns, the buildings in the part of Laos that we went through were all either bamboo and thatch or rough hewn board construction. The estates (if such primitive dwellings may be called estates) were, however, some of the tidiest I’ve seen. There was an obvious orderliness that was nice to see. Also the people seemed to be more fully engaged in their families, the concerns of those around them, and the physical realities of their surroundings (this tendency -in the whole world- seems to vary inversely with the availability of electricity).
I’ve mentioned before that this trip is all about the gradients -the fading of one place into another by minute, undetectable changes. The difference between the China and Lao sides of that border are the most “detectable” differences I’ve ever seen in the simple crossing of a border. On the Laos side a house made from bricks and mortar is an unattainable luxury and people continually adapt to their environment to stay alive. On the China side there are 72 inch plasma screen televisions, designer outfitters, tunnels, and elevated super highways (transportation is infinitely easier…man has adapted his environment to fit his needs).
Speaking of bricks and mortar, they are good metaphors for the products of a digestive tract. The white bread and fiber-less noodles we were eating in Vietnam resulted in the occasional production of some bricks. The bacteria ridden eggs and vegetables I had last Sunday resulted in the frantic manufacture of enormous amounts of mortar.
Other than the curiosities in my bowel, coming back into China has, in a really strange way, felt like coming home (Jeremy and I arrived at this conclusion independently and it‘s a bit of a mystery to explain). Maybe it’s just being back in a more developed place, or maybe it’s because we were with Americans last time we were in China, so we’ve been conditioned to feel like China is familiar. Anyway, we’re happily back in the land of dumplings and yummy (it just tastes so good!) MSG.

Christmas Vacation and Sanctification

i have one blog newer than this one at thewholeworldround.com

A great friend from college, Scott Kabel, flew in from Taiwan and spent Christmas with us in Thailand (it is my hope that those who don‘t know the difference between Taiwan and Thailand are forced to realize the distinction by the fact that they have now appeared in the same sentence). We made our way North to Chiang Mai and had a good ‘ole time reminiscing about college and Zambia (although none of us were in Zambia at the same time Jeremy, Scott, and I were all student missionaries there so we hold a lot of memories in common). Another thing we have in common is that we’re all single, and for a moment I thought this was a great coincidence, but then I realized, duh, of course we’re single. No one with a wife or girlfriend would be spending Christmas with two other bachelors in Thailand.
It turns out we‘re just “birds of a feather,” but I will say flocking, especially at Christmastime, is really fun. I’m super happy Jeremy and Scott were with me for Christmas because I identify with them easily. We share traditions, dietary preferences, humor, and language (not just English in a broad sense but the same Adventist University dialect). We’re the same in a lot of ways and it’s great.
I love being an SDA Christian. I love my SDA friends. I really love the Sabbath. It’s been really fun and uplifting for me this Christmas season to think about my roots and to bask in the joy and warm, yummy nostalgia that I get from singing carols, and reading stories about the traditions that I know and love. I identify with Adventists largely because (specific doctrines aside, that‘s for another discussion) I am Adventist. It’s what I know, it’s what I’ve enjoyed growing up in, Adventism is my culture and the lens through which I see the world.
All that being said, as a traveler, I have to stare down the obvious fact that I’m a product of my environment. I’m Christian, not Buddhist, because I was born to Sam and Susan Harboldt, not Chinh and Tranh Li. When I ask myself if I really believe, or if I’m really a follower of Christ, this keeps popping into my head. How authentic is my religion? I understand that there are elements of my beliefs that I should be willing to die for. I reckon when that time comes I better be pretty dang convinced of my authenticity and the rightness (and righteousness) of the cause for which I’m giving my life.
When I was seven or so I remember a church elder, one who I still hold a lot of respect for, told me this: “If Christianity is mistaken, and we’ve misunderstood the nature of Jesus and misinterpreted parts of the scriptures, we will still live happier, fuller, richer lives by following the moral law that Christ taught.” At the time I pretty much rejected this thinking right out. If Christ is someone for whom I may be giving my life at some point I’m gonna have to operate with a bit more certainty than that. Now that I’m traveling the words of my mentor don’t seem as far off. I think I’m seeing what he suggested manifested in the lives of many people I meet. The teachings that seem to bless these people, give them purpose, and cultivate a happy life, lived for the benefit of others, didn’t come from Jesus in the sense that ours did, but I think they may have come from God by other means.
I’m meeting people who don’t believe in Jesus, and some who don’t believe in God, who are better people than me. There are people who‘ve broken the habit of trying to prove their right all the time, people who’s brand of selflessness appears to consist of actually putting the interests of others ahead of their own, not just doing token acts of kindness (all the better if performed on the fringe of one’s comfort zone) to soothe the conscience. It seems that we Christians do not have the corner market on what we call sanctification (Romans 2:12 is a good place to start reading if you‘re curious).
The Bible talks about “losing your life to find it” and I think I see a lot of people from vastly different belief systems figuring out how to do that. I intuit that, for the moment anyway, this is the sort of “life losing” that deserves my focus. Not the martyr’s loss of the flesh life, but the giving up of my spirit to a better one. Dying to self.
Here’s the tricky business for me. The sort of spirit that attaches itself to being right (let’s say about Sabbath being the true indication of a remnant for a challenging example) is a spirit that likes to vindicate itself. It finds itself at odds (at least inside Bjorn) with the meek spirit, the one that willingly admits mistakes and doesn’t try to prove it knows better (tree of knowledge of good and evil should be ringing a bell) than God. I find the “old man” (the argumentative one) inside me isn’t quite as dead as I had hoped, and the “new man” not quite as alive when it comes to convincing others that they should switch to my belief system because it‘s “better“ than theirs.
So I’m trying to figure out what discipleship is. What does Jesus‘ commission mean for Adventists today? Should we be trying to get happy, well-adjusted, partially sanctified Baptists, Muslims, and Catholics to switch to our religion? Would we be doing them a favor by suggesting they leave the richness of their heritage, the things to which they have attached so much meaning, and enter ours?
One thing is for sure. There are plenty of people who definitely need more God in their lives. There’s still obvious discipling to be done. There are poor, widows, and orphans who are living without hope, and if we can jump start them by sharing with them a healthy way to relate to God (Christianity) it seems that must definitely be a good thing. I’m just curious about these folks who seem to relate to God well without Christ. I’m interested in your thoughts if you’d like to email me or leave comments on this website.