It was that love feast

For a while, my wandering heart felt so tired and I really wanted to go back to Taiwan.

In fact, when I forced myself to go to the United States with my husband twenty-four years ago, I was already in an extremely miserable mood; I had never wanted to be so far away from my hometown and uproot my roots. The children's warnings before leaving are still in their ears: "Teacher, come home as soon as possible, otherwise we will drop a Chinese pebble and fly across the Pacific Ocean to kill you and the master!"

And this trip has been a desert of flat sand for 19 years. I once said that I would never go to the mainland if I had not been to Taiwan; I would never visit Hong Kong if I had not been to the mainland; and I would never visit any other country if I had not been to Hong Kong. That moment of inspiration actually caused my spiritual exile for nearly a quarter of a century. I once said that I just want to see people. I really want to see people. I want to see my old friends, teachers and students in my hometown. I want to see the movie street and bookstore in Taipei, or any corner of Taiwan, anyone I hang out with. Strangers with the same blood. From bidding farewell to the lotuses in the botanical garden, to entering the cactus in the desert, my gaze has gradually withered into an orchid that has lost its roots. I said, my God, unless you wither me into a leaf specimen, unless you compress me into a juiceless sweet potato, this heart will not yield...

At that time when I was extremely tired of wandering around North America and almost became ill with longing for home, a sumptuous dinner illuminated the darkness in my heart like the bright moon.

It was a winter day more than four years ago when I accompanied my husband to Canada for an interview for a pastoral position. On the Boeing 737, flying from the bright winter sun in New Mexico to the cold and wet Toronto, my heart was as cold and wet as sinking to the bottom of a valley. God, do you really have the heart to let me wander from one foreign country to another? God, please let me return to Taiwan! I kept crying out to Him along the way.

After arriving that night, a brother sent us to the basement of an old church to have dinner with more than a hundred friends from mainland China.

That was a strange dinner party! Crowds of people creaked up and down the narrow and crowded wooden stairs; half-pushed and half-squeezed, my husband and I followed the surging crowd into the restaurant. For a moment, I was shocked. This desert rat from Albuquerque has never seen so many Chinese faces in twenty years, let alone so many compatriots from mainland China at once! The brother told me that the Love Feast service that has been held every Friday night before the Bible study class for more than ten years has led countless people who have never been to a church to know Jesus. The brother said that this love feast is a Hong Kong brother’s silent dedication for more than ten years...

I sipped the hot pork bone soup in a small polyethylene cup, and silently used a plastic fork to poke the soy sauce chicken and blanched vegetables on the paper plate, while silently looking at the dusty faces and the reserved flowers. A subtle smile. Brother said that in this city, countless compatriots come from the mainland every day, and some of them even just got off the plane... right? No wonder I feel like there are huge plates of Northeastern dumplings, Tianjin steamed buns or big bowls of Sichuan spicy noodles and red oil noodles in front of them...

Can I still stick to the Sishen Soup on the beach in Keelung and the oyster noodles on the streets of Taipei? In an instant, even the stars of the Yingfeng Bridge and the oars on the Tamsui River retreated away in surprise. Only a faint voice sounded clearly in my ears: My child, if you show mercy to those who are hungry in spirit, you will make your heart full of compassion. When the poor are satisfied, your light will rise in the darkness, and your darkness will become noon...

It was that love feast that turned me around, made me obey and wait, and let the "Chinese pebbles" gradually pile up in the depths of the ocean.

Author profile

Chen Xiaohua, a former teacher, currently lives in Toronto, Canada. In addition to studying theology, he is also engaged in writing, and provides family, marriage and love counseling.