Season of Joy, Season of Sorrow

I think Cecely has been reporting some already about our Advent / Christmas initiative: to host numerous, small parties, with as many different students as we reasonably can; to have them come over for snacks, songs, and scripture, and to give each person a bilingual New Testament as a gift. I can't keep up with how many of these events we've hosted, maybe 5 or 6 so far. Each one is different from the last, sometimes radically so.

We had one "group", which turned out to be only two people, who practically refused to touch any of the snacks Cec had gone to the trouble of preparing and presenting so carefully; but the Bible reading, on the other hand, went pretty well. Another set of students, mostly the girls we're already studying with, plus a few guests, were more than willing to devour nearly every scrap of food in sight! Cookies, crackers, fruit, nuts, brownies -- bring it on! And they all (even the newest visitors) had a hearty appetite for spiritual nourishment, as well. We read from the Sermon on the Mount (since most had just recently studied the Nativity), talked about the counter-cultural challenges inherent in Jesus' message, and then closed with group prayer.

But not every group of visitors has been so receptive to the gospel. Certainly not our most-recent small group: Their "leader" is a very nice guy, with the rather bizarre "English" name of Naple, who regularly, and entirely of his own initiative, goes to visit and serve the children at a nearby, special needs orphanage. [He also went well out of his way (just this past Sunday morning) to help me recovery my lost cell phone, which is a nearly-miraculous story all its own, a testimony to God's grace, for sure.] Naple was left to invite whomever he chose, so he brought with him his closest classmates, a foursome that call themselves CCND (Coco, Circle, Naple & David), also the Student Union president and 094 former-class monitor, a very lovable and outgoing girl who just uses her Chinese name, Yan (just like our very own Gao Yan), and a boy who plays guitar and has been dying to meet me and get to play music together. So there were the six of them, all pretty friendly and eager to come over. And bearing gifts of Danish butter cookies and fine, handmade chocolate truffles! A great group, as far as partying is concerned. They ate, talked, played with Phoebe; we sang and read the birth story, and they even asked some good questions, mostly about certain historical and cultural details.

I decided to be a little more upfront about who Jesus claims to be and why He is the Lord of our life. I got some scouring looks from Yan, who I think has had about enough of my thinly-veiled evangelism in class every week, but also some agreeable, or at least accepting, nods from others. When we said they could take the Bibles home with them, Naple was especially eager. Although he claims atheism as his sworn belief, he nevertheless is interested in knowing more about Christianity and said he would read the New Testament "not so much for spiritual, but as literature." [note: We've sometimes found this to translate roughly as "I'm eventually going to become a Christian, but don't bug me about it just yet," so I'm somewhat hopeful.] I guess, as I retell the story, I can say that it went pretty well, really. And after the "religious" portion was over, they still stayed and played and snacked and so on, for another hour. They must not have been too put-out by my preaching. Anyway, it was finally time for them to go, and this is where the story -- for me, emotionally, at the time -- took a sharp downturn: They all started towards the door without so much as looking back at the New Testaments left abandoned on the coffee table. What was the matter, I wondered. Are they doing this on purpose? Should I say something? I hesitated, then spoke directly, just to Naple, with my hand outstretched, "Did you want to take this?"
"Oh, of course. Thanks."
"And what about the rest of you?" I wanted to say, but didn't. And they didn't reach back to reclaim their neglected treasures. They just shuffled and shifted, putting on shoes and coats, making their way unevenly out the door and into the cold.

The party was over. And I was left clutching an armful of unwanted Bibles.

What started me writing this was the desire to share with you some of the ups, and in this case the downs, of our ministry this holiday season. What comes to mind as I try to make sense of these five students literally walking away from the gospel held out to them is Jesus, himself: Born to be rejected; betrayed by those He loved; slain for sins not His own. And what I'm left with is a prayer, that the Father would forgive them and give them another chance -- even to grant them a change of heart and a desire to seek Him -- for truly, "they know not what they do."

Unto us, a child is born; and unto us a task is given. We pray, we share, we love, we wait.
Amen.