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Where Strangers Cross
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Category:
Religion
Publisher: Xulon Press
ISBN-10: 1609578459
Type: Non-Fiction
Pages: 300
Copyright: Sep 23, 2010
ISBN-13: 9781609578459
They come from two different worlds. John (Jiang) Long grew up in rural China where the name Jesus never surfaced. Kevin Avery grew up 8,000 miles away with Christian parents in the suburbs of the United States. Humanly speaking, their paths should never cross, yet this situation changes when they follow a transforming Jesus. Not only does God divinely bring them together to start an international student ministry, but also, he reverses their residences. He plants Long as a pastor in Tulsa and sends Avery as a missionary to China, even to the mountain villages of Long's youth. While in exchanged countries, they become strangers of this world, ready to disciple the nations in reverent brokenness.
Any Christian who delights in biography and wants to deepen one’s faith will find this book to best help increase their understanding of the international community for the sake of the gospel. Where Strangers Cross is a narrative with plot and characterization. Beside obvious differences stemming from diverse times, careers and geography between Kevin Avery and John Long, it intertwines two spiritual journeys instead of focusing on one life story. In fact, this aspect of the book makes it unique among other Christian biographies. The reason for this alternating point of view is to enhance the Lord as the main character, who brings the two men together to disciple the nations.It is designed to challenge and encourage American Christians by seeing the Great Commission lived out from different perspectives.
Excerpt
Chapter 1
Journey to the West
n
The Chinese man was completely alone. His family
and friends were 8,000 miles away, and no one had
come for him. Jiang Long tried to push down his fear,
reminding himself he had just arrived to Tulsa, Oklahoma.
The representative from Oral Roberts University could be
waiting for him elsewhere, perhaps by the luggage claim.
But the other side of the airport was the same. There was
no one. It was half past six on Monday evening, August
16, 1993.
The two suitcases he dragged off the belt contained
everything he owned – some worn clothes and basic
necessities like a comb, toothbrush and bilingual dictionary.
This whole time, the 26-year-old kept scanning,
hoping. He had never used a pay phone before, but at
first sight, he heaved his suitcases across the room. Surely,
someone would answer the phone and fix everything. But
once again, there was no one. “Office hours are Monday
through Friday ...”
Jiang exhaled as the phone swallowed his quarter. He
sat down in a nearby chair, watching the other passengers
Journey to the West
6
leave. Everyone was busy; no one seemed to notice the
stranger against the wall.
While Jiang’s English was adequate to communicate
– he had worked as an interpreter in Southeast China for
several years – he realized in terms of culture and geography,
he knew nothing about Tulsa. All he had was an
outdated map of the United States. He did not know how
to get to the university. Worse, he did not know where
he was going to sleep that night. Though Jiang had all of
his savings with him – $1,900 in cash – he was at a loss.
Even if he could spare to use it on taxi fare or a hotel, he
needed a reliable guide. The longer Jiang thought about
his current plight, the more fear darkened his vision.
Only an hour earlier, his future had looked so bright.
From the plane window, he watched as the golds and
browns of the countryside became houses and buildings
and skyscrapers. He smiled. Those skyscrapers represented
business, and business meant money. His American
dream was finally coming into focus. With a full scholarship
to earn his MBA at Oral Roberts University, he felt
unstoppable. Jiang’s only regret was that his new bride,
Mei, could not come with him. How he wished she could
be by his side, sharing the experience.
Jiang had been preparing for this day since he was 12
years old. He did not know anything about an American
dream then, but he did dream. In those days in the late
1970s and early 1980s, he was spending half of what
little money he could scrounge up on adventure books.
Before high school, Jiang had already read the four classic
novels of Chinese literature: Journey to the West, The Water
Margins, The Dreams of the Red Mansion and The Three Golden
Kingdoms.
7
Where Strangers Cross
The first book had especially ignited his imagination.
The Journey to the West is filled with talking animals and glorious
adventure, but it runs deeper than just fables and
legends. The story is based on the life of a monk, Xuan
Zang, who walked hundreds of miles to reach India in 628
AD. The monk stayed there for 19 years, learning Indian
Buddhism. When he returned to China, Xuan Zang translated
Buddhist holy books called the Sutras, accelerating
the spread of Buddhism across his homeland. Jiang consumed
this thick book like it was steamed rice.
* * * * *
Once, although it had been getting too dark to read,
Jiang Long could not give up on the courageous monk.
Jiang had to find out what would happen. The monk and
his band of disciples – the Monkey King, a humorous pig
and an exiled sea monster – were under attack. Another
demon was bent on ending their pilgrimage. The travelers
had to succeed, or else the monk would not find atonement
for his past sins, and China would remain lost in its
greed and wickedness forever.
“Jiang,” his father had said.
The young Jiang hesitated but looked up, hearing the
seriousness in his tone. His father was a compassionate
man but could be stern when the need arose. He had been
a soldier in the People’s Liberation Army, fighting in the
civil war that drove Chiang Kai-Shek to Taiwan in 1949
and resulted in a Communist China.
“Come inside,” his father said, “Before it starts
raining.”
Journey to the West
8
Jiang nodded; his journey would have to wait. The
arrival of black clouds during rainy season was not a
welcomed presence. Floods were common. Although
the Longs lived upstairs in a two-story office building,
they lived next to a powerful, winding river called Nine-
Dragon River – a river reflected in Jiang’s name. His surname,
Long, means “dragon,” and his given name, Jiang,
means “river.” Jiang Long literally means “River Dragon.”
Unlike the Western view of dragons as symbols of
evil, dragons in Chinese mythology are benevolent creatures
of greatness and blessing, closely associated with
emperors of the past. In ancient China, dragons were
believed to bring prosperity as they guided the rivers and
seas to the people. However, if they did not receive proper
homage, dragons could show displeasure by stirring up
black clouds of thunderous rain.
During that summer night, the storm pounded, making
it difficult to sleep. Jiang kept shifting, trying to get comfortable,
but each shift would cause his brothers to stir
– the unfortunate outcome of three brothers sharing one
bed. His best hope was to let his mind drift back to the
imaginary west.
He knew, of course, that the novel wasn’t true.
Monkeys and pigs and other creatures cannot learn the
art of fighting and the secrets of spirituality. He had concluded
early on that what his schoolteachers had taught
him was correct. There was no such thing as a supernatural
realm. There was no such thing as a god or spirit or
even a dragon, though he knew many in his town still
burned incense to Buddhist idols. No, this life came down
to human fortitude. But as a gripping adventure and as a
9
Where Strangers Cross
means to explore beyond the mountains of Fujian province,
the Journey to the West was well worth his savings.
When the sun finally resisted the darkness, it was as
everyone had dreaded; the river had retaken the street
below. Still, the damage was minor. The buildings along
the river consisted of tile or dirt flooring, and it was easy
enough to keep the cabbage and leeks dry. Floods and
typhoons were too numerous to interrupt business. The
heavy rains were another fact of life – another discomfort
like swarming insects or stifling poverty. The water certainly
didn’t diminish Jiang’s optimism.
From the window that morning, Jiang could see a
couple of the neighborhood boys wading across the river
with their book bags on their heads. If they could do it, he
figured he definitely could. He ran back to the other room
and tied his patriotic red scarf around his neck.
“What are you doing?” His middle brother asked.
“Going to school.”
His brother shook his head in amazement. “Long
Jiang, the little college boy.”
After buttoning his shirt, Jiang eyed his leather shoes
– the ones his father had sacrificially awarded him. Jiang
had graduated elementary school top of his class. His
brothers had never received such luxury; leather was rare,
even for adults. Of course, the shoes were purposely two
sizes too big. Now, they were worn and snug, but he still
didn’t dare get them wet. It wouldn’t be the first time he
went to school barefoot.
Jiang ran down the steps to the edge of the river. He
could hear the boys shouting and laughing about the river
as they inched across. “Go slow,” his father said. Then,
Journey to the West
10
with a weathered smile, he added, “And don’t read your
book during class.”
By the time the water reached Jiang’s waist and up to
his chest, there was no turning back. The river was cold
and murky, and the current was stronger than he expected,
but the grin on his face stayed as secure as the book bag
on his head. No amount of water was going to lower his
spirits.
Thirty minutes later, only his shorts remained damp.
His cotton shirt and scarf were completely dry. He filed in
behind other red scarves and made his way to the seventh
grade classroom. His wooden bench welcomed him back,
and the boy who shared his desk smiled at him but said
nothing. The boy’s textbook was already out, ready for the
biology teacher to start class.
Her presence silenced the crowded room; all 50 students
were watching as one. All textbooks were open to
the chapter covering evolution. Although she couldn’t
have been any taller than five feet, she had the authority
of the school behind her. Jiang knew she would begin
the class by asking questions – questions only having one
answer. He was ready.
“From where does man come?”
That was an easy one. Jiang knew it before he looked it
up in his textbook, but he wanted to say it exactly right.
“Wang Ling!”
A girl in the back stood up with her textbook. She was
nervous, but she read, “Man comes from monkeys.”
“Correct. Man comes from monkeys. Millions of
years ago, we were monkeys. But we are not monkeys any
longer, are we? We have evolved. We have learned. We
11
Where Strangers Cross
have been liberated. But Lee Zhu, how is man similar to
monkeys? Tell us one similarity.”
Lee Zhu stood up. Jiang knew him to be a good chess
player. They often competed for the highest math scores.
“Monkeys can hold tools like humans can,” he said.
“Yes, tools. Tools in the right hands serve to advance
science and technology. Tools in the rights hands help
make our country stronger. How else are monkeys and
humans similar? Fu Lu Wei?”
“Monkeys can communicate.”
“Good. How do monkeys communicate?”
This question was harder. The majority of the class
had to search through their textbooks. But Jiang welcomed
the challenge. He lifted his gaze, hoping the teacher would
call on him. He would jump up the moment she called his
name and recite the answer verbatim. He might only be a
seventh grader, but he knew what he wanted, and school
was his stepping-stone.
* * * * *
Now, in the Tulsa International Airport, Jiang shifted
in his chair. The passengers from his plane were gone. He
wasn’t sure what had made him remember his childhood
school days. Everything was different now – everything
that is, except his desire to escape poverty. He no longer
cared about the Monkey King. He no longer accepted the
textbook as supreme authority.
In fact, unlike his childhood rejection of the supernatural,
he had since encountered the living God, and he
remembered the promise from his American friends who
had accompanied him to Hong Kong. “We will be praying
Journey to the West
12
for you and Mei. Don’t be afraid. Jesus will be with you
each step of the way.”
If truly honest with himself, he knew he was living
proof of what happens when one trusts in himself. Lost
and discouraged, he lifted his eyes, looking beyond the
lights of the ceiling. “Lord Jesus,” he prayed, “I need your
help now more than ever.”
Physically speaking, nothing changed. People continued
to cart off their luggage as before, and no sign
spontaneously appeared with his name on it. However,
Jiang gained a quiet assurance God would help him find
a way. After all, why wouldn’t he? God had helped him
receive an American visa, a full scholarship to ORU, and
a one-way ticket to America. God could ferry him across
town.
Jiang continued to scan the room in silence. After
about 20 minutes had passed, Jiang watched as a whitehaired
man approached him. The man towered over Jiang,
but he had a welcoming face, like that of a grandfather.
“Hi, my name’s Coach Duke with ORU,” he said. “I’m
here to pick up two international students. Have you seen
them?”
Jiang sat up. “I am one,” he said.
“Sorry?”
“I am a new international student at Oral Roberts
University. My name is Long Jiang, but you can call me
John.”
“Well, hey, that’s great. I’m pleased to meet you, John,
but I’m looking for two young men from Russia. Have
you seen them?”
Jiang shook his head. “No, but I wonder how I will get
to the university.”
13
Where Strangers Cross
The old coach hesitated but looked at him with his
gentle eyes. “I’m sorry, but I really don’t know if I can help.
I wish I could, but I’m here to pick up two tennis players
from Russia. They should have arrived by now. I saw you
sitting over here and thought you might have seen them. I,
well – don’t you have someone coming to pick you up?”
“No,” Jiang said. He explained his situation.
Coach Duke nodded, glancing down at Jiang’s luggage
and then back at him. “You only have these two bags?”
“Yes.”
Coach Duke was quiet for what seemed like hours.
“Well, I’ll tell you what,” he said. “I can’t promise anything,
but after I find the two students, I’ll see if there’s
enough room in the van for you. I’ll come back and let
you know, so stay right here until I come back. Okay?”
Jiang nodded, though the next five minutes tested
his calm. He was frustrated with himself; he should have
arranged things better with ORU. He had just assumed
someone would be there, foolishly taking the future for
granted. Jiang fervently prayed that Coach Duke would be
able to give him a ride.
When the coach finally returned with the two Russians,
he smiled at Jiang and motioned for him to follow. “Come
on, we’ve got room.”
The two bags suddenly felt much lighter. When they
were driving away from the airport, the coach asked, “So
John, where exactly am I taking you?”
“Oral Roberts University,” Jiang said.
“But where exactly? Are you staying in a dormitory on
campus, or are you going to live in an apartment?”
Jiang felt the heaviness return. “I do not know where
I will stay.”
Journey to the West
14
In his assuring way, Coach Duke nodded his head.
“Then you’ll be staying with us tonight. My wife’s already
planned for two guests. We can just as well have three.
You can sleep on our couch, and then tomorrow, I’ll take
you where you need to go.”
Jiang felt humbled but grateful. “Thank you, sir. You
are very kind. I believe God sent you to help me.”
Coach Duke smiled, conveying his Arkansas-bred hospitality.
“You are most welcome, and you don’t have to call
me ‘sir.’ ‘Coach’ is just fine. Next time, just say, ‘Thanks,
Coach.’”
“Okay, thanks, Coach,” Jiang said. “And thank you for
helping me improve my American English. I am in a new
place now, so I have to face the music.”
“Face the music?” The coach chuckled, which
prompted Jiang to express some more British idioms he
had learned. The coach glanced at him. “What kind of
English did they teach you over there in China?”
Laughter spread throughout the van. Jiang and the two
Russians began repeating other idioms they had learned
from textbooks. “Cheap as chips.” “Cut the mustard.”
“Easy peasy.”
“You guys are killing me,” Coach said.
“We’re killing you?”
They all laughed harder. “Hope you guys are hungry.
My wife’s fixing us a home-cooked meal – American
style.”
Jiang’s smile widened. God had answered his prayer
in a mighty way, sending a compassionate tennis coach
to serve as host and guide. Jiang remembered what his
friends in China had said to him before he left. As they
had promised, the Lord was indeed taking care of him.
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