Why would the Gospel kill people?

I have recently read Achebe’s Things Fall Apart, which has proved to me the fact that African literature can be so wonderful. Indeed, among many world masterpieces contented in the 3052-page book I have been reading this semester for my English class, this African novel turns out to be my favorite.

It’d take me much more time to discuss about how the style of this story is much easy for me to follow, and still worth-reading because of its richness. For now I am talking about the story itself, what I think about these African tribe people, how the Europeans came and messed their life up.

This paragraph is a SPOILER, so if you really want to read this novel (which I highly recommended), skip to the next paragraph or to be even better, stop reading this post. Here it goes: The story is about a strong man, who is the greatest man of his village. He truly is a warrior, the man of action. Then some white men come, build up churches, then new government. These “civilized” people spread Christianity and conflicts take place, as far as they lock up the six leaders of the village, shave their head and stave them for days until they agree to pay money. Okonkwo – the main character, the hero – can’t bear with all of that and kills one white man. Then he hangs himself before these men can come and catch him.

As a Christian myself, I am supposed to agree with the European missioners, and I should have kept thinking, “Oh yeah! Christians rule!” or something. But I felt a strong sympathy toward Okonkwo and his people. Leaving them alone, they would live perfectly fine with their traditions and their beliefs. Now the Europeans come and this peaceful life gets all crewed up. The African people have to see their holy masks got tore badly, their hero is forced to die “like a dog” and cannot do anything because they are scared of the guns.

I am not sure what God’s opinion about this, but I think these European commissioners are evil! I don’t know what price it should take to spread the Gospel but destroying traditions, bugling money, and killing some ignorant people then enslaving the rest are not acceptable. And when people do such things using the name of God, then I say it’s more heretic than worshiping a piece of wood. Isn’t God Love? Isn’t He Hope?

To be honest, I didn’t know this was an African story because I skipped the intro. I thought it was Native American. It shows how similar the situations are: uncivilized people everywhere in this world were living happily, then Europeans came and “things fall apart”. It makes me wonder what the French and the Americans did to my country, what pains they caused to my fathers, my uncles. Notice what those Europeans came to Okonkwo’s village for: for spreading the Gospel. So the purpose of saving a country from Communism seems to be quite inferior.

Of course I hold no grudge toward French or Americans, and my faith of Christ is still in me somewhere. But I think at least we Christians really should think twice before going for a mission trip. Would that mess up their cultural in a bad way? Would that not a part of invading other countries that we just don’t unconsciously know? Of course such things don’t seem to be likely to happen, but it won’t hurt to think about that.

I've lost a girl again

I’ve lost a girl again. I knew it when I woke up and found myself alone in the room. I couldn’t help but thought, “Damn, not again!” She’s gone for good. I couldn’t do anything. I was deeply sad. I missed her a lot.

I saw her while walking on the street with my backpack like a college student (I am not sure what I was at that time, maybe highschooler). I looked at her and she looked at me back. Good thing I was smiling. Now I can’t remember her face. I know she looked Asian, and her short dark hair was so adorable.

She was on the train with me (why the train, I don’t know. It might be a huge bus with a lot of people). She came to me and asked how I spelled my name. I told her while she wrote it down, her handwriting was pretty neat. I saw that and suddenly realized that I had met her before and knew her name. It sounded Japanese I don’t know why. I also remembered distinctively that I had written down some where on my note something like this:

Ts…, I wonder how gorgeous you will be when you grow up like a blossomed flower

“Ts-some-thing” was her name and that’s all I can remember now. My memories are fading really quickly, I need to type faster.

After a while she came back to her sit at the other end of this huge truck/bus thing. Next to her was a gigantic old man just sat there unenergetically. As soon as I wondered who he was, Dang – a Vietnamese guy I knew and know – jumped from that old man to before me, saying, “That’s her grandpa”. So it was her grandfather, who was constantly coughing. She was taking care of him, sometimes looked at me passionately. I know that I felt peacefully happy; I don’t know why I didn’t just come there to her.

What happened next, I can’t remember. Even my emotions for her are leaving me mercilessly. Why did you leave me, girl? Why did you appear only to vanish forever? I would come to you, you know, with all my might and my strength, only so that you’d stay with me a bit longer.

But the alarm clock rang, and I knew it was only a dream. Nothing had ever happened; there never was the huge train/bus thing, or the huge man at the other end coughing. There was no her, no “Tsu-some-thing”.

She is gone for good. I can’t do anything. I am deeply sad. I miss her a lot.

What the Bible means to me

At the service I went to last Wednesday, a question was raised: What does the Bible mean to your life? Really simple and hard to answer.

The Bible is long, that’s for sure. And what people can tell about it is not any shorter than it is. All of those sophisticated stuffs are great to read sometimes, but sometimes only, and there’s no way what I’m telling you is sophisticated. I am gonna write down whatever I think of, and then I’ll try not to even read it again until I have posted it.

The Bible contains a lot of stories, but it’s definitely not an ordinary book. It’s not an epic, a novel, a romance, or anything as such. Why? Because it’d be so uncool for me to tell Holden something like, “Last night I’ve read five books in the Bible”. Since every single verse can be a long and passionate lecture of Mr. V, reading them intensively and quickly can only tell me the plots. I would know how David became a king but not how great he was, and what God did to his life. I would have missed a lot.

The Bible is certainly not a documentary book either, since it’s full of enthusiasm and emotions that normal documentary books lack. But to me it’s quite similar to a textbook sometimes because I tend to feel so sleepy after awhile reading it (May God forgive me!). There were times when I couldn’t get anything after reading two pages. Then a person told me that reading the Bible was also to communicate with God. The idea makes me excited, not (only) because that I don’t have to understand the verses all the time, but because… oh come on, it’s to COMMUNICATE with God! I am not too confident in being able to pray sincerely and compassionately enough to reach God, but I CAN read the Bible. Yes, even I can communicate with Him!

So what can I say? To me the Bible is extremely long and hard to understand. But guess what? When I read it I talk to God!

…

Am I being inappropriate… again?

Another Performance

We Vietnamese Student Organization (VSO) in UCM (University of Central Missouri) had our first debut in this year’s Cultural Night. This was our second performance (you can watch the one from last year HERE), and it was definitely harder to make. Hope you’ll enjoy it.

VSO 2009 Performance

Choreographer: me

Performers: Chi Pham, Phat Hoang, Dang Nguyen, Cuong Duong, Vuong Nguyen, Son Bui, and me

Music: Thuong Qua Viet Nam – Pham The My