Guitar in hand and eyes bright with joy, Leia strolled over to my dorm. She’s a sophomore born and raised in a Christian home in China. (Readers should note her name is not in fact Leia, but given the following discussion regards Christian persecution in China, anonymity is crucial.)
Leia had an intriguing air of tranquility and anticipation about her that immediately drew me in. Given we’d never met before, I was keen to make a first impression just as deep as the one she’d made on me.
“Leia?” I called, waving her over to where I stood. “I’m so glad to meet you. Please, come in. Have a seat on my couch and make yourself at home.”
A broad and genuine smile swept across her face as she approached and sat down, guitar and all.
Everything about her is soft and gentle: her outfit of pastel colors, her expression of kindness and sincerity, and her tone that communicated a humble presence when she spoke.
As with everyone, her demeanor was the byproduct of many influences, including the unique circumstances of her Christian upbringing in China amidst religious persecution.
“Our mission is to share the gospel and to grow in our life and to grow in our relationship with Christ. And so in my community we’re trying to make this kind of attitude…” Leia said, “both my dad and my mom, they’re trying to teach the people in our own church about this lesson, ’cause we think it’s important and it’s the truth.”
She and her family have modeled the meaning of being charitable and blessing those who persecute you. It’s remarkable.
“There were police outside our door to watch us, to know where we’re going,” Leia told me. “They’re not bad men themselves, but they [had] just been told what to do. That’s their job.”
Her dad was a pastor, but the police didn’t know this. They were just following orders.
“They did not actually understand what they were doing. They did not actually understand my parents’ career. They’d just been told that they’ll have to stay there,” she continued. “They did not have a bed to sleep in, they were just outside our door.”
It’s hard not to hear the compassion in this statement and those that followed as she recounted how her parents provided food and hot water to the police amidst the intense winter cold. Yet again they blessed their enemies.
She acknowledges that wrong has been done but that it doesn’t have final word over the Christian’s response. “It’s definitely necessary to realize that what the persecutors are doing [is] not good and God does not like that, and it is not pleasing God,” she said.
Choosing fruitfulness over hostility is the big takeaway for me. Many members of their community have cultivated this charitable perspective, not only among the adults, but also in the community’s children.
“I think a very important thing is that instead of teaching the child that the government is bad or the police are bad…the real thing is, they did not know the gospel, and they did not know the truth, so they thought they were doing good things for us,” Leia said.
Leia hasn’t failed this whole time to keep eternity in view, and this clearly grounds her gracious outlook.
“So from that perspective, it [gives] us more hope and motivation to either share the gospel with the people who are [persecuting] us, or have a compassion toward them,” Leia said.
She’s absolutely right. How often do we (more honestly, I) see our enemies in light of eternity and see their lostness as an opportunity for compassion? I’m thankful to have a reminder sitting right in front of me.
Our chat comes to an end. She picks up her guitar, thanks me with that same sincerity and gentleness she carried the whole time, and leaves.
I’m left to ponder all she’s said, to reflect on the smallness of my eternal perspective, and to stand in awe of the giver of the fruit that was so evident in Leia’s life and witness.
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