In defense of John Chau

mar·​tyr | \ ˈmär-tər  \

1: a person who voluntarily suffers death as the penalty of witnessing to and refusing to renounce a religion

2: a person who sacrifices something of great value and especially life itself for the sake of principle; “a martyr to the cause of freedom”

Today I came across a video telling the story of John Allen Chau.

You may remember hearing about him a few years back. He was a young missionary who visited an island where no civilized person ever sets foot, hoping to share the gospel with them. It turned out that there was a very good reason why no one ever sets foot on North Sentinel Island. The people who live there are primitive by our standards, and extremely aggressive toward outsiders. They attacked him basically the moment he reached the shore. The only thing that saved him was the Bible he was carrying near his chest — which was pierced with an arrow.

But John was undeterred. The very next day, he went right back to the island. He was never seen alive again. His body was seen on the shore the next day, surrounded by members of the Sentinelese tribe. No one would go back to collect his remains. The risk of being killed by the natives was just too high.

No more tears

I just have a quick story to share today.

Lately I’ve been feeling like a city under siege. There are pressures and difficulties on all sides. Sometimes it feels like the walls are about to cave in, and the enemy’s army will swarm right through the gap.

We all go through times of great pain. Sometimes it’s one long, drawn-out ordeal that keeps pummeling you over and over. Sometimes a lot of troubles hit all at once, one after another after another, like waves crashing down. Whenever that happens, it feels like a deliberate, coordinated attack. I know that we have an enemy in this world, and that enemy wants nothing more than to discourage, confuse, and overwhelm the children of God.

But I also know that even in the midst of that attack, God is faithful and He has not gone anywhere. He is an ever-present help for His people, even during our darkest nights.

Blood on the floor

There is blood on the floor of my church.

Five days ago, a man pulled into the parking lot of the chapel where the Irvine Taiwanese Presbyterian Church meets for worship. He sat in a pew during the 10AM service. He barely said a word to anyone.

After the service ended, he wandered the campus for while, aimless, looking lost. A lady from the front office spotted him and kindly asked if he needed help. He said he was just taking a look around, and he was okay.

At some point during his wandering, the man stashed several bags in dark corners of the church. Among other things, the bags contained multiple boxes of ammunition and at least four Molotov cocktail-style explosives.

Sometime after 12PM, the man casually entered Simpson Hall, where a luncheon was being held for a former ITPC pastor. He took a place at the table. He ate and drank with the forty or so people inside, mostly older residents of nearby retirement communities.

Nearly an hour later, he got up from the table, went over to the double doors and chained them shut. He put super glue on all the locks. Then he pulled out a 9mm handgun and began shooting.

Hard sayings

If you’re like me, you are sometimes very, very discouraged when reading the words of Jesus.

Maybe you’re a recent convert, and you’ve never fully read through the Gospels before. Or maybe you’re reading them for the umpteenth time, when you run into a passage that feels like barbed wire — it hooks you right in the heart.