Life in a bullet (train)
At this very moment in time I`m moving at 300km/h heading North somewhere in East Asia in a bullet train. My mind is spinning a bit, together with my stomach and the smell of freshly made rise, some beef and something that looks like mushrooms but tastes like octopus, is following me anywhere I go on the train. On my left there’s a Nestle bottled water standing perfectly still at 300km/h. Behind the water my eyes get tired of looking at rice field after rice field or flat block after flat block depending if we’re passing through countryside or urban areas. On my right there’s a little South African girl who just fell asleep on her mother’s lap. Bouwer Bosch is screaming about grace in my ears and all together I have a sense of 300km/h grace in my heart. Together with all the above I have met new friends on my journey.
The past couple of days my tears have been bridging the gap between my new made friends and myself. It’s almost as if my tears have united the burned ashes of previously built bridges that had been burned down through Communism, Racism and the growing divide of the world wide church. Together our tears made our differences disappear. United us.
The sharing of stories between people from different countries has been very inspiring since, no matter where they are from, we all have the same purpose: Restoring the hope in the world through never-endingly striving towards social as well as religious justice in real peoples’ lives in whatever country they represent. My African heart has skipped a beat every time it resonates with someone else’s from another country. I’ve met people from countries I didn’t even know existed and which I unfortunately cannot name on any social media, but the people I’ve met has been breathing inspiration into my nostrils like God did to the first man on earth. The word ‘inspire’ is actually derived from the Greek spiros which refers to being breathed over.
But, together with these experiences we find buzz killers.
I didn’t start this current blog with the idea of writing about buzz killers, but I feel that it’s needed to stand still on this subject seeing as it is part of the real experience on any trip.
Sometimes you feel like your heart is ripped open like the garment in the temple when Jesus died on the cross. You’d be learning and joking and really having intimate times. Not just good times but really a moment of shalom, some special moment, inner peace or call it what you want when, all of a sudden, someone will say or do something that turns your whole moment or vibe into sudden darkness.
Buzz kill.
This happens a lot on these trips to other people and I never thought that it would happen to me, seeing as I’m such a cool guy and obviously humble, but it did. In fact it was me being cool that made such a moment happen. I don’t need to go into the detail of how I was having a moment and someone screw it up for me, but the feeling after such an event is so deep. It literally feels like something is sinking within a man when someone spoils a moment. But these moments are real, they do happen and they are uncomfortable although they teach you the best lessons you can possibly invest in. Words can stab deep. They can be a buzz kill. But sometimes our buzzes needs a killin’ so we can die in ourselves. Some say that the test comes first and then the lesson.
All in all its part of the whole experience of going on a trip. It’s like the smell of India, the pollution in Beijing or taxi’s in South Africa.
Back to why I wrote this blog.
I met someone from a really small town in Southern Asia that has been persecuted for his faith for many years. He told me a story of when he was a young man and the police caught him with Books he was distributing to people around him. They beat him senseless until he was unconscious several days in a row and then decided to do it in public to not only strike him but to strike fear into the new believers’ hearts as well. This man looks me in the eyes, after hugging me and calling me his brother, and tells me that he will do it all over again if he knew that he would be persecuted. After that he tells me that, while he was beaten in public, he had to keep on smiling. Naturally I asked why and he replied that he could not let the fear sneak into the onlookers’ hearts. He smiled. He smiled whilst they were beating him. In such a time, why do you smile? I mean, its not comfortable being beaten up and also it seems kind of fake to keep on smiling just to keep others from losing their faith?
What I really didn’t understand was the sacrifice he made by smiling during the beating. He went against what his body’s natural reaction was by smiling. He chose to go against what his body told him to do. He had to choose between his physical body or the faith of the onlookers.
On my way back to the airport I feel quite uncomfortable. Really uncomfortable. I’ve probably breathed to much pollution in, I can feel my lungs craving fresh air (it literally is aching), I can feel I have a post nasal drip, my legs are numb to the point where I have developed a head ache and every time we go through another tunnel my ears feel like blowing up into my brain. All in all a good feeling to have when you still have to fly 18 hours back home with an exam waiting in Stellenbosch for me.
I get even more uncomfortable when I hear stories such as the one I’ve heard from a new made friend from the Caspian area in the Middle East. In his country he does not experience physical persecution but what he calls governmental persecution. The government does not allow believers to gather in bigger groups than ten if they’re not registered, but they cannot register if the group isn’t bigger than fifty people. Doesn’t make sense. This same mate of mine has to take Books into another country that borders with his country, but this country has the right to kill him if they find him with Books on him. He tells me, while tears form in his dark brown eyes, that he is so scared every time he has to return to that country. He’s scared to death, but he is willing to die to spread the Book that gives life.
Many more stories came out of this trip that gave life to the dry bones in my body and it was exactly what I needed at this point in time. By the grace of God I will be receiving my degree in Theology in December and I was so sensitive to receive it with my chest puffed and head held high, but this trip has once again taught me that my strength lies in my family, which includes my friends, and YHWH.
At this point in time I hate the uncomfort I find myself in and I really do hope it pays of in some sense.
I miss home.