If you’ve not read Part I, I suggest do so prior to reading this.
… tucked under the spread of a huge banyan tree. The doors finally creaked open after a long pause following my loud knocking, and a charming, elderly Chinese lady who spoke fluent English with a British accent greeted us. “Good evening. Won’t you please come in,” she invited with polite formality. “My husband will be out soon to visit with you. Please be seated,” our host urged pointing us to several elaborately carved wooden chairs. I finally saw the mayor shuffling towards us through a darkened doorway. His wife immediately left her seat offering it to her husband and she scooted off. The mayor seemed ancient, his face a mass of wrinkles that nearly swallowed his eyes.
I could tell the mayor was very calculating by the questions he asked. Like his wife, he spoke fluent British English. Finally, the questioning came to the heart of our visit, as he directly inquired. “Why have you left America to come to Hong Kong? Why do you want to live in our village?”
I knew this was the crucial question because this was obviously a Buddhist village that practiced ancestral worship. The chances that they would allow a Western Christian Gweilo, a “foreign devil,” as Westerners are commonly called, to live among them seem very unlikely. But I also knew, I had to be totally honest about the call God had placed on our lives.
Taking a deep breath and slowly exhaling, I ventured, “We’re here because the living God directed us to come. We are here to tell Chinese people about his Son, Jesus Christ. Do you know who he is?”
The mayor looked at me for an uncomfortably long time. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking as he stared at me from expressionless eyes peering out of narrow slits. Finally, a slight smile began to break scattering the wrinkles on his face in different directions.
To my complete surprise, he said, “Well, praise the Lord! I’ve been preparing for years that God would bring someone to this village with the gospel. What can I do to help you?”
By the end of our visit, the mayor and I had an agreement that would help renovate an older two-story house in the middle of the village. His daughter owned it and been used for storage over the previous 20 years. In exchange they would waive the standard two-month deposit along with the first month’s rent. They would also pay for all the materials we required make the property livable again. Before Daisy and I left the village, we prayed together with the mayor that God would use us to bring glory to His name and that His love would be revealed in the village.
Work on our new project began the next day as we rushed to beat the two-week deadline of vacating the company apartment. Working late into the evening hours and on weekends, Daisy and I replaced 40 broken window panes, and removed piles of trash. We scrubbed and painted the inside of the two-story building from top to bottom. By the time I completed the last two weeks of employment, we were ready to move our few belongings out of the company apartment and into our miracle house.
Needless to say, our arrival attracted the attention of the entire village. Being the only white Westerners who ever lived in this village, I was very aware that nearly every move I made was being scrutinized, especially by the old grandmas who lived in the houses surrounding ours on all four sides. How I treated my children and my wife was carefully watched, and I felt the pressure to be on my very best behavior for the sake of representing Jesus well.
This is the second two-post revealing Wendell & Daisy’s intimate dependence on God to provide. I trust you can recall similar instances on your own journey. Count your Blessings. Be honest with your own current situation & do intercede for others you know whom are similarly struggling.
NEXT UP: An thought-provoking discourse on How To Talk “WITH” God and Not “TO” God, a 10 minute YouTube following the written script. Plan accordingly.