Saving Souls

I had yet another odd encounter with the missionaries last night. As I was journaling, a group of them arrived back from a tour of the wall (the Mutianyu section that is most famous but also most touristy—it was mostly rebuilt in the past 50 years.)

“Ok now we have to get up at 4:30 tomorrow morning to get to the aiport,” their leader said. “So don’t stay up too late tonight. Boys get so shower first and remember, you need to wear shorts in the shower.”

Shorts in the shower…haven’t done that since middle school.

I chuckled in my head. I guess I sort of understood having shifts of boys and girls in the shower, but it wasn’t like the rest of the hostel was going to respect that rule. And while the showers were public, they weren’t seedy. There were stalls with locking doors and an additional privacy curtain. There was no way someone was going to peep in there without being very obvious and aggressive in doing so. And shorts in the shower? Are we afraid it is too arousing to see ourselves naked?

When they left a frantic Italian woman came over, “Do any of you speak English?”

I nodded.

“I want to go to the Olympic center,” she said. “Do you know where it is?”

“I don’t exactly,” I said. “If you take line 2, you have to transfer to the green line, and there is a stop on the greenline that is called ‘Olympci Center.’”

“Where is the nearest subway?” she asked.

“it is about 15 minutes that way,” I said pointing. “It is called Hepingmen.”

“Yes I know it,” she said. “And what stop do I transfer at?”

“I don’t remember,” I said. “But right inside the Subway there is an English map. The Olympic stop is on the green line.”

“I just want to see the bird part,” she said.

“The Bird’s Nest,” I said.

“Yes.” She said.

I looked at my watch. “The Subway closes in an hour,”: I said. “Maybe it is too late now to go.”

“What time is it.”

I showed her my watch that it was 9:45.

“Yes it is too late,” she said. “I will go to Koutou square instead. Where is theat?”

“Tiannamen square?” I asked.

“No,” she said. “Koutou.”

“I don’t know it,” I said.

A Chinese girl sitting next to me got up and offered to help the lady. She wound up following her around the lobby for nearly 30 minutes as the woman changed her mind several times and each time complained that no one spoke English and it was hard to get around.

When the girl came back to sit down, I told her I thought it was kind that she helped the lady. This pushed me in to a 30 minute conversation about this girls desires to go to America and her picking my brain on the best way to do that.

After she left and I was finishing blogging., I heard the sound of someone crying hysterically around the corner. Listening, I overheard part of the conversaion.

“Now we all have choices,” I could hear a woman saying in American English. “How do you feel about the choice you made tonight?”

“Awful,” the sobbing voice said and kept crying.

“You should,” the woman said. “As a Christain you have a sacred calling to hold yourself to a higher standard.”

Really?  I thought. That’s the message of Christianity. You should feel awful about your choices because you should have done better…because you believe in Jesus. What happened to the whole…”I give you hope and leave you with peace.” …or the forgiveness or the welcoming tax collectors and prostitutes. Regardless of what choice this girl made, how could the ‘Christian’ answer possibly be you should feel awful?

“It is possible to have Jesus back in your life,” the woman continued. I was unaware that Jesus left you if you made bad choices.

“All you have to do is repent of this choice and make amends with God for how you have disgraced him and yourself.” Guess that whole saved by faith alone thing doesn’t count.  

I found the whole thing very disturbing and I was surprised at this urge I had to go something. Of course I didn’t, but I was really bothered by the whole exchange. Of all the religions I’ve experienced abroad, Christians have to be among the worst.

As I put away my computer and went back to my room, I found the hall of the hostel a buzz with teenagers. They were sitting around gossiping about whatever “choice” had been made, as well as enjoying the fact that the chaperones were all distracted. I saw Austin and said hello.

“Where are you off to next?” I asked.

“Home,” he said staring down the hall at the rucous.

“Looks like things are exciting for you guys tonight,” I said, not wanting to pry but still being curious about the whole thing.

“Ya,” he said nodding at four girls sitting at the end of the hall in short shorts and spaghetti strap tops. “Those girls sitting down there are lucky. You know what our group calls that outfit? Porn. Girls aren’t allowed to wear shorts or show their shoulders.”

“But I heard you have to wear shorts in the shower,” I said.

“Ya I don’t know what that’s all about,” he said.

We talked a little on how different parts of the world view sex, as well as how different cultures view drinking. I’m still a fan and supporter of the “no sex until marriage” approach to relationships, although I think the US takes it a bit far. Not everything that involves nudity or relationships has to be related to sex. On the drinking front, I’m torn. I’ve always thought that life is too rich to be intoxicated, but I’ve also see evidence that some people are happier drunk…but I guess that also proves my first point that they aren’t really happy if they have to be drunk to be happy…right? Even so I don’t think drinking is a “choice” you “should feel awful” about.

Suddenly the chaperone came around the corner. Everyone scattered. “Were you wearing shorts!” he barked.

“You need to go?” I asked Austin.

“Ya probably,” he sad. “Look me up on Facebook though.”

“When I have more reliable access to Facebook, I will,” I said. “Have a safe flight.”

I put my laptop away and then went to the bathroom to wash my face. When I came back, I saw that the chaperone had the girls lined up at the end of the hall. They had all changed into capris and hoodies. “Why is dressing provocatively an insult to God?” the guy asked them.

I rolled my eyes, as I went into my room.