Missionaries

I had an odd experience tonight.

I’ll start with a funny—or at least ironic—part. I was sitting in the lobby of the hotel that my hostel is affiliated with. The hostel itself does not have WiFi but we can access the hotel WiFi in the lobby. As I was journaling, I started to cough. The smog of Shanghai and Beijing have taken their toll on my lungs and I have this odd burning sensation most of the time. The past few days it has evolved into a rattling cough.

There was a Middle Eastern kid sitting next to me on the couch. “I can get you some medicine,” he said.

“That’s okay,” I smiled.

He started saying something in a different language. I shrugged. “What language you speak?” He asked.

“English,” I said.

“Really,” he said. “I have medicine."

Getting rid of this cough did sound kind of nice. “Sure,” I said. “Can I see it.”

He went to his room and came back with a  white bottle. He handed it to me. I opened it and pulled out a red tablet.

“It is an effervescent,” he said. “You know? You dissolve in water. It is Vitamin C and a decongestant. Good for colds and coughs.”

“Okay,” I said a little skeptical. I tried to read the side of the bottle the tablet had been in. My effort was in vein since all the labeling was in Arabic.

“You can trust me,” he said. “I am med student.”

“A medical student?” I said. “Where are you from?”

“Arlington,” he said.

“Like Virginia?” I said.

“Yes,” he said. “I was born in Egypt, which is my accent but I grow up and live in US.”

Well that was a bit ironic, I thought, laughing at my own skepticism. “Thank you for this,” I said. “I have a water bottle back in my room. I’ll use it later.”

“Good luck,” he said and went back to his room.

 Just a few minutes later, a large group of Americans came in and sat down. They proved every stereotype as they loudly talked about how different everything was in China from the US.

“Hi!” one girl said with a smile on her face as she sat on the end table by the couch. “I’m Linda. Are you one of the French students?”

I shook my head. I was really tempted I didn’t speak English, but I wasn’t sure which language I would go with.

“Where are you from?” she asked. Her voice was very sing-songy and she had a creepy smile.

“The US,” I said.

“Oh that’s great!” she said in the same sing-songy voice. I felt like she was talking to me as if I was 5 years old. “We’re missionaries from the US.”

“Oh!” I said, faking  a smile. I hoped if I continued typing she’d get the hint that I wasn’t looking for conversation.

“So what are you writing there?”

Obviously the hint was not gotten

“I keep a travel journal of sorts,” I explained. In hind site I wish I had said something like “a hit list” or “satanic poems” but nope I stuck with the truth.

“That’s so cool,” she said. The odd happiness to her voice was really getting to me.

All of a sudden a red-headed kid came running over. He stuck out his hand and said “HI I’m Austin. Let me guess you’re 26.”

“Nope,” I said, having never been greeted like that before.

“Are you 27?”

“Nope.” We played this game as he worked his way up to 30 and then down to 21.

“Wow! You look a lot older,” he said.

“Thank you,” I said. “I get that a lot.”

“What are you doing in China?” Linda asked.

“I was interning in Shanghai,” I said. I’ve realized I’ve made the full switch and I can no longer say “Shanghai” like and American.

“That’s so cool!” She said again, in the exact same voice she used when my travel journal was so cool.

“Yes,” I said. Realizing I wasn’t to get rid of them, I decided to a play along. “What were you guys doing in China?”

“We were leading a youth bible study camp,” Linda said. I didn’t catch which province they'd been in but it was their first day traveling in Beijing.

“That’s nice,” I said. “What denomination are you?”

“I’m Methodist but it’s a non-denominational program,” Linda said.

“My Dad is Catholic,” Austin said rolling his eyes, “But luckily my Mom’s Christian so I still learned about Jesus.”

I wasn’t aware that Catholics were oblivious to Jesus.

“You know I was in Europe for 4 months last year,” I said. “I mostly went to Catholic masses and explored the history in Rome and all that. I think Catholicism is really beautiful.”

“Oh it is,” Austin said. “But when you dig into what they believe, it is really different.”

I feel like I’ve done a lot of digging and I haven’t found anything that different. I mean it’s more serious than I could handle, but even that is poetic in a way and it certainly has a tangible spirit to it.

I decided to keep going. “I had a friend study in Salt Lake City last year. While she was there, I took a tour of the Mormon Temple. After reading the Book of Mormon and touring the temple, it’s a religion I wouldn’t necessarily convert to, but they have some incredible values.”

“I saved a Mormon once,” Austin said. “He came to my door and I debated every point he made until he gave up.

“Really?” Linda said. “That’s so cool. I don’t know anything about Mormons.”

Isn’t that funny? The people who go out to “save” other people know almost nothing about the people they are trying to save. They assume they have to convert the other people, before even learning what the other people believe.

“Here in China I’ve been exploring Buddhism a lot,” I said. “I’ll admit it is a little different, and a lot harder to get my head around, but there is a very powerful feeling in some of the temples.”

“I’ve always wanted to meet someone like you,” Austin said. “I don’t know much about other religions.”

“I like religions,” I said. “I think it’s interesting to see how people around the world find hope.”

“I find hope in lots of things,” Linda said. “But I find truth in Jesus.”

That seemed like an odd segue.

“People can find truth in lots of things,” Austin said. “What’s true for you isn’t necessarily true for everyone else.”

She looked dumbfounded. “Do you even know what we were doing here, Austin?”

Before a real spat broke out, their group leader came over and made them count off to make sure everyone was present. He then led them away for a devotional.

The whole thing struck me as odd. I love traveling, but I cannot imagine traveling with the perspective of “I am going to save these people.” How can one religion be so much better than all the others?

At the same time I wrestle with that. While I find parts of different religions beautiful, the only one that really works for me is my own. I can get goose-bumps in a Buddhist temple, but I need to hear the gospel to have my soul feel fed. Which challenges me, because I really want to experience other faiths, but it is harder than I thought.

And those are the two thoughts I am stuck with

1.)    Why do people try to save other people without experiencing their faith first?
2.)    How can one faith be more right than another? Are we just stuck on familiarity that makes it feel right?