Writer or No Writer

By Ye Wei-ping

It was a hot afternoon in August on an island in the South Sea. I poured buckets of ash mixed with sweat into the rain behind my hut, allowing my seven years of writings scattered away in the water.

I

I like writing. Not that I am any smarter or talented, but I believe professional storytellers had a lot to do with it.

When I was little, there were a lot of story-telling programs on the radio. Programs included the Chinese revolutionary novels and the Soviet anti-espionage stories. The most exciting and most colorful ones, however, had to be The Three Kingdoms and The Journey to the West by Mr. Hou. All children who listened were completely fascinated.

Then I discovered the books of The Three Kingdoms and The Journey to the West in my father's library. I was very excited like a hungry kid falling into an orchid. After I read a few books, I began to be interested in writing. My Chinese composition was much appreciated by my elementary school teachers. But that almost threw me into disaster also.

It was during the maddening years. I was still a little kid, having barely finished grade school. At first I was taken as the "dark inheritance" of the reactionaries; then as the nation became more maddening, "dark inheritance" also became part of the madness. In addition to fighting with real weapons, we also wrote and put up posters and slogans. I quite enjoyed doing all this.

"Exciting writings" lasted a couple of months when I realized that the "red sun" was often unpredictable. Some of my writings all of a sudden became political targets. Members of the school's military propaganda group and the political working group forced me to reveal my conspirator, as nobody believed a little kid like me was able to write so elegantly.

Come to think of it, it is understandable for the member of the military propaganda group to act like this because most soldiers did not understand writings in the first place. The lady from the political working group, however, was the school principal. Normally teachers should be very proud of talented students, but this lady kept on launching political attacks against me. Even though nothing really came out of their abuse, I learned that it was not always fun to write.

Then came the wave of migration to the rural areas. After seven years of hardship, I still liked writing. The sky was wide and there really was a lot to write about. Besides, most people around me were illiterate. If you did not tell, nobody cared to know what you were writing about. And so there was no persecution either. When I was ready to leave the countryside, I was not able to bring all the writings with me. Though they reflected my years of labor, I still had to burn them all.

It was a hot afternoon in August on an island in the South Sea. I poured buckets of ash mixed with sweat into the rain behind my hut, allowing my seven years of writings scattered away in the water. My ideas, along with rain and ashes, were sacrificed on this ugly, tragic, suffocating and yet lovely piece of land.

II

Sad stories often accompany the prodigals. I was barely twenty years of age when I tasted the bitterness of departure. Loneliness was beyond words too. I went across the ocean, all alone, and my pen certainly would not remain idle. The blank paper on the desk became my lone companion. In those years, I had a black-covered notebook, in which was recorded my melancholy in a foreign country.

Then finally came the rainbow in the sky. That was the Easter of 1983.

Unlike many others, this was my very first experience: my first entrance to church (though not without hostility), my first appreciation of the worship music, my first exposure to Jesus Christ while sitting among the "weak", my first time listening to others' prayers with disgust and sarcasm.

It was unimaginable for me to walk into a church. What was even more unimaginable was my very first silent response to the call of the pastor despite my firm atheist orientation: "Oh Jesus, here I come..."

So, one second ago I was a hard-nosed atheist who had been through thirty years of hard training. One second later, I completely betrayed my entire atheist belief in response to the sacred call. I did not think much about it; the glory and the unsurpassed attraction guided me to walk toward the extended arms of Christ.

The sadness and despair of a thirty-year atheist were completely vanished at this shocking moment. Even today, I have but one explanation to this: this is the greatest miracle ever in my life.

All have changed. The transformation of spiritual life is the beginning of the transformation of daily life. I used to be a truck driver who spent most of my days making a living and dreaming about getting rich. Shortly after I accepted Jesus, I bravely cried to Jesus: "Oh Lord, you know how I love to learn. But can I go to an American college? Is this part of your will? But I have never even been to high school. Am I capable?

He clearly replied: "You can go wherever you want to go. But wherever you are, you must glorify me."

So, with a background of almost zero math, physics and chemistry and zero English, with very little money but with plenty of God's promises, I began my long journey of overseas schooling at the age of thirty. Over ten years have passed since then, and the Lord's assurance has filled every single day.

III

Ever since its inception, Overseas Campus has become the favorable periodical for me and many others who share the same roots. In one of the issues, I saw a notice soliciting articles for the magazine.

Like a spring gushing our clear water, I sat at the computer and finished writing the article The Revelations of Zero and Infinity. It was my personal experience after I accepted Jesus. But I hesitated a little. Should I submit it or not? After all, I wasn't a writer and it was quite something to be a writer. On the other hand, however, the Spirit urged me to go ahead.

Then I remembered the Lord's word: "Wherever you are, glorify me."

"Oh Lord, your servant will submit this article into your hand." I prayed, "May this be your servant's sacrifice to you." After I submitted the article, I was filled with peace. Writer or no writer did not seem to matter any more.

My article was quickly published. Shortly after that, Overseas Campus sent me a notice, saying that my article had been selected as an outstanding featured article of the year. This was my very first time to submit an article for publication. My writings used to bring me a lot of grief in the past. But now I became the author of a featured article! I did not feel proud of myself. If the Lord had not been with me, my writings would have continued to bring me trouble. Then I remembered the Lord's words again.

"Oh Lord," I asked, "how you encouraged me! Is it your will that your servant should glorify you with his pen? If so, please guide me!"

As I was praying, I saw a vision in which there was a sea of newspapers and periodicals. In the sea, there were evil spirits hovering up and down, there were hopeless sighs, desperate philosophy and cries to seek truth. How many indifferent eyes have passed through these publications every day? Aren't these what the Lord comes to seek? Didn't I use to be one of them? Didn't the Lord tell me to glorify Him?

"Lord, here I am." While facing the sea of publications I prayed: "Please send me!"

At the same time, a sister submitted my article to the local publication. And almost at the same time, a brother from a different state asked my permission to put my article on the internet.

How great the invisible hand is!

In the past few years, writing has become an integral part of my daily service to the Lord. There is a local weekly Chinese publication where I live. So once a week I send my writings to them. Some of my writings also go to the electronic publications in North America.

Faith cannot, and should not, be confined to any building. Likewise, spiritual writings cannot, and should not, be confined to church publications. For this reason, I also take the opportunities to submit my writings to the sea of publications where the indifferent eyes are. I believe that the Good News is a priceless gift of God, and good writings based on the Good News can last forever because they are filled with the glory of Christ.

Epilogue

I am not a writer. But praise the Lord! Through Overseas Campus, the Lord uses a non-writer like me to serve Him with writings. How wonderful it is to become a humble means of the eternal God! Writer or no writer, what is the difference?

The author came from Guangdong Province. An electric engineer, he is now a principle engineer in Motorola, Texas.