Acts of the Green Apples

We had to stop in Hong Kong in order to obtain visas for Taiwan. There we had lunch in a hotel coffee shop. I couldn't seem to commuicate with the waitress that I wanted a drink of water so at last I took a glass over to the counter and signaled that I wanted water from the tap. The Hong Kong Government assures all and sundry it is safe to drink the water without further sterilization, but after spending five days in bed I haven't been brave enough to try it since.

We procured the visas for Taiwan with little difficulty, but what we didn't realize (because we don't read Chinese) was that in some mysterious fashion Richard had ended with a tourist visa and Suzanne and I with transit visas. This was to cause much turmoil later.

The flight to Taipei was short, and (after Indonesia) we enjoyed seeing the people because they smiled and looked normal. Some surprise was expressed at the immigration desk over our visas; but since the clerk didn't speak English sufficiently to communicate the problem, we merrily went our way. The day came when we wished we had known.

As we had no idea what we were doing in Nationalist China -- and the vague idea we did have was wrong -- we settled into an economy-priced hotel and prayed a lot. Eventually we traded it for a small Japanese-style apartment which we rented from a Chinese prostitute. We took her to church and later told her about Christ in detail. She decided to make Him her Lord. This gave us some difficulty, as her son attended a Roman Catholic school. It developed that the hierarchy would rather she were a prostitute than a Protestant!

The apartment was very different. The partitions did not go all of the way to the ceiling, so anything said in one room could easily be heard over the entire apartment. One night after everyone was in bed Rick and I were whispering in our room when Suzy said from her room, "Speak a bit louder -- I missed part of that!"

One day at lunch in a restaurant we noticed some people at the next table saying grace. By the way they prayed, we were certain they were Pentecostal. We introduced ourselves and discovered mutual friends. That was how we met Palma Ramsborg and Alice Stewart, who were really great missionaries. They were what you might call "tuned in" people. One day they brought us a pile of sheets, towels and pillow cases, which we really needed -- but how did they know we needed them? Their brand of Christianity reminded us of the New Testament variety. Palma and Alice even took us on a picnic and insisted on leaving the leftover sandwiches for us. We had no refrigerator, so we left them on the table wrapped tightly in a brown paper bag. During the night I awakened Rick because I heard a peculiar grinding sound. He listened but neither of us could imagine what it might be. Rick quietly got out of bed and tentatively approached the source of the noise. There on the table, sticking out of a hole in the bag, was the rear end of a large cockroach. The enterprising creature had gnawed through the bag and several layers of waxed paper to reach his objective. Unfortunately for him, he wa a noisy chewer.

Suzanne had been out of school for almost seven months of the year (in the part of Indonesia where we had been, there was no school in which English was spoken) and we had accepted the fact that she would be a year behind her class. However, she was getting bored, so even though it was expensive we put her in an American school so she would have something to do. One day when Richard and I were praying it came to us simultaneously why we were there, but it was completely illogical. We were there so Suzy could graduate from the sixth grade. But how could she do that, since she had missed most of the school year? We talked to the principal. He said she was doing beautifully in school, that he would give her the standard tests, and that if she passed them there was no reason she could not go on to the seventh grade. Richard tutored her nightly for two months, and she passed with the best grades she had ever made. I really don't know another place in the Orient where that could have happened. Now we knew why we were in Taiwan.

One Sunday after we had been to the Episcopal Church where an offical dignitary read, in the manner of a school-child, a sermon someone else had written, we went to a service at the Baptist Church. It didn't particularly inspire us either, so we returned to our apartment and read the Bible and prayed. Afterward I was lying on the bed praying, and I had a peculiar feeling we should go to the evening service at a chapel we had a real desire not to attned. I also had the embarrassing thought that I was going to say something there. Fortunately for me, it was an informal type of meeting where anyone who wished to do so could talk. A man spoke on healing, and in his speech he implied that in Jesus' time Christ healed the lepers but now we were to embrace them and love them instead. Then he told about his work at the leper colony. It struck me forcefully that it wasn't quite the same thing. In fact, I knew of a man who had walked up to a leper, put his arms around him, and said, "Jesus loves you," and the leper was instantly cured. Obviously God still behaved today just as He had nearly two thousand years previously. I stood up and spoke for several minutes, with the pastor's permission, on the supernatural way God had moved in our church in California. When church was over a woman introduced herself and said, "You must know Jean Stone. You must have been sent here by Trinity. I imagine you know all of the Trinity staff."

When I could get a word in, I said, "I am Jean Stone." Apparently I hadn't spoken clearly for she enthusiastically bubbled on, "You know Jean Stone and those people? How wonderful!"

Her husband shook hands and said, "I rather thought you were. You look familiar."

So that was how we met Dr and Mrs Donald Dale. Penny and Donald drove us home that night, and the red-haired Scottish doctor invited us to dinner the following week.

Meanwhile, we had applied for the renewal of our tourist visas only to discover that Suzy and I were already delinquent. Since we only had transit visas, we were told we must leave at once although Richard could stay! We hounded all of the authorities with no result. They said someone had made an error on our visas, but nothing could be done about it.

So there we were in Taiwan with expired visas and no money to go anywhere and Suzy had not yet finished school. We were due at the Dales' for dinner that night, but we had a notice from the communications system that someone in the United States had placed a telephone call to us. We asked if we could contact the operator and place the call from the Dales telephone. Our party was reached as we were at dinner and the telephone was brought to me at the table, so the Dales heard the entire conversation, including our visa vicissitudes. When dinner was over, Donald informed Richard that he knew someone rather high in the immigration department if Rick wanted a letter to him. It didn't solve all of our difficulties, but it kept us from being deported! It seemed a peculiar coincidence that we had gone to that little church that night.

I don't want you to think the problem became simple. Nothing is ever simple in Taiwan. There were numerous appointments with numerous dignitaries and many hours of waiting, but in the end we were finally extended three months. We thought everything had been solved. We were later to discover this was merely an illusion on our part.

Taiwan was fascinating. We liked the little shops set up in the living quarters of the families where fruit or soft drinks or meat or vegetables might be sold. The shopkeepers were friendly and honest -- if they found they had overcharged you, the next time you appeared they would return the money. I have yet to have that happen to me in any other part of Asia. Book prices are ridiculously low. This is because the books are photographically reproduced from existing copies and no royalties are paid. We bought a World Book Encyclopedia for Suzy but we experienced a shock when we looked up "China"! It told the history of China up until 1945 and from then on blank pages stared at us until the next subject. Also before Maori tribesmen there was a large blank space. China wasn't divided, there was no one named Mao, and we were residing in Ostrichland.

Because there was no refrigeration, no storage space, and nothing but a funny little gas ring to cook on in our apartment, we took most of our meals out from necessity. This kept us on a rather strict budget. In the restaurants we frequented, no one spoke English -- and the menus were only in Chinese. We would watch what other people were being served, and if it looked good we would ill-manneredly point to it. This worked well most of the time. Our system brok down one day when we pointed to some delicious-looking fresh green beans on a young man's plate. No beans were forthcoming. We couldn't understand, and with much sign language we thought we made it clear we wanted green beans. Floods of Chinese were the only reply. Everyone was terribly frustrated. At last the people sent an errand boy to bring someone to interpret. It seems the young man was a waiter in the restaurant. He had brough his lunch from home and we were trying to take it away from him! When it was all made clear and everyone had had a good laugh, the waiter generously insisted upon sharing his beans with us.

We were hungry for Italian spaghetti, which was not to be found in Taiwan -- not really -- we had tried it and it was sweet! So I painfully cooked spaghetti and meatballs on the little gas ring. It came out sweet! It seems the Chinese put sugar in canned tomatoes. I couldn't waste all of that spaghetti sauce, so I added vinegar to it. This may have been the first sweet and sour spaghetti in history.

Prices were low in Taiwan, but actually we were only eating by the grace of God and Harry Raley, the latter being a terrific Southern Baptist minister who cashed our checks for us. By knowing where to go and what to order, we managed dinner for about two dollars for the three of us. Sometimes for lunch we splurged and went to the Grand Hotel and had fresh salad from the salad bar with bread and butter for twenty-five cents apiece. If we were flush that week, we had the cheese souffle as well -- which ran the bill up to seventy-five cents. We gave up on coffee after it came several times tasting like "Navy coffee." We asked if it had been made fresh. They were shocked and said, "Fresh. Yes, fresh! Make fresh every day."

One day we had a caller -- a young Naval commander from the States, who was the son of some friends of ours. He had promised his parents to look us up when in Taiwan. He informed us he only had an hour free, and we could tell that about the last thing in the world he wanted to do was waste time with two dreary missionaries.

As we chatted I remembered how good his parents had been to us. I wanted to do something for them so I asked the commander if he was a Christian. He looked surprised and said he had never thought about it. We then told him the story of how we had come to the Orient. The end result was he took us to dinner that night along with a friend of his sister's, because he wanted her to hear what he considered a fascinating story. He wrote home afterward that the encounter had been wonderful for him as he had found it necessary to evaluate where he stood on God. Unnecessary to say that he opted for Him.

But he didn't think he needed the gift of the Holy Spirit. His sister's friend came to see us later, and she not only opted for Christianity (which she previously had not gone along with) but also received the baptism in the Spirit and wrote him how much more wonderful life was with than without.

But many things were disappointing, including areas of the missionary scene: scandals, lack of commitment, and sheer lethargy. Of course, in the final analysis everyone is responsible for his own behavior. But, since we are our brother's keepers, perhaps many of the problems were traceable to a lack of prayer and personal involvement from the supporters in the homeland. There is also a need for compassion combined with strict moral standards on the part of fellow workers. This combination was one of the characteristics which made Jesus so unique.

There were notable exceptions, one being Dr Dale who appeared to be well integrated. In his clinic many people were treated free of charge and with personal regard, but the work was never separated from his faith. Gospel tracts were everywhere, and he was much involved in religious activities in the community. I'm sure he wasn't perfect, but he seemed to live what he preached.

Contrast him with a missionary in another part of Asia who was making a tape for his church telling what his clinic was accomplishing. He invited the head nurse to say a few words on the work. When he pushed the "play" button to find the correct place, the air turned blue with recorded cursing and obscenities. Then, with hardly a pause, the introduction flowed forth in the melodious inspirational voice to which American Christians are conditioned: "Hellow, Friends, this is your missionary in --- speaking." At the nurse's amazed stare he matter-of-factly explained he had experienced difficulty operating the tape recorder. And then there was the missionary who threw a Bible and hit a teen-aged girl who was talking during his sermon --

Sometimes, what we call "Christian schizophrenia" carries more serious consequences. We were told that many of the Chinese Christians had come from the mainland twenty years previously. Their spouses had remained in China, embraced Communism, divorced them, and remarried. Meanwhile, the lonesome mates in Taiwan had become Christians and wanted families. A general meeting of the missionaries was held. Unanimously it was agreed that by the Scripture they were free to marry and have children. BUT the missionaries were unanimous in saying that even though they considered the people free by God's standards, they could not allow them to remarry because financial support would be cut off when word traveled back to the mission boards. Something was wrong somewhere.

Many missionaries were genuine and full of love, but frequently they lacked power and they knew it. As everywhere, the kind of action portrayed in the New Testament simply wasn't occurring frequently enough. The New Testament answer was welcomed by some, but others did not have ears to hear.

We were doing a routine errand involving a house call for a "missionary" group that was taught English. (We had also made a radio program for them.) To our astonishment, the woman we called on was Watchman Nee's sister-in-law, and an active Christian. We were entertained with slices of yellow watermelon and varieties of cookies and watermelon seeds, and we were shown the family photograph album. She roared with laughter when she persuaded us to admit that before coming, we had privately entertained the idea of "giving her the Gospel."

Another time we were invited to the Officer's Club for lunch with Bob Hammond, from the Voice of China and Asia in Pasadena. We had met Bob only twice in California, but we were so far from home that we all behaved like long-lost buddies.

At the Episcopal Church a vivacious redhead and her Air Force officer husband introduced themselves and then took us under their wings. Eventually they affirmed their faith and were baptized in the Holy Spirit. While advising us where to purchase necessities, Fritzi had shown me the shop where the American wives had clothes made. It was all a bit rich for my blood, but once we were invited to a small dinner party and I bought something off the rack to wear. It mattered not that the heat was incredible; the only thing that fit me was a lamé with long sleeves, so that was it.

When evening came it was even hotter than it had been in the daytime. The officer at whose house we were being entertained was on the Generalissimo's staff, and the talk was heavy going as we had no Chinese and their English was not of the best. Hot tea was served in the sitting room, and then we went in to dinner, which consisted of numerous courses. The food was hospitably piled into our bowls whether we wished it or not. As the meal progressed, the heat became more oppressive. One platter held an enormous fish and as the lamé clung to me damply and the heavy food piled up in front of me, I almost thought that huge glassy eye winked. Another dish was pure ham fat swimming in fermented, salty bean sauce. The sauce was good; but after rice, noodles, steamed bread, chicken, fish, beef, pork and a few more items, those gob of fat were about the last straw. Through it all I desperately craved a glass of cold water.

The procession of food continued until at last great mounds of a gelatinous dessert (which turned out to be mashed red bean sweetened and covered with pastry) were pressed on us. I was sure we had come to the end, but the fruit course was yet to come. I was persuaded to try a crisp, juicy fruit which tasted like a cross between an apple and a pear, and then we were taken to another sitting room for more conversation. The heat grew more intense and I was perspiring freely, the food lay like a rock in my stomach, and the salty bean sauce had made me violently thirsty. Hot tea was served in glasses. By this time I was expecting to be actively sick. Being sick might have been an affront to my hostess, but I think asking for a glass of ice water horrified her more. By the look on her face and her protestations, I fear I committed mortal sin just asking; but when I drank glasses and glasses of it I put myself beyond the pale forever. By the time we reached home, death seemed a welcome way out. An Assemblies of God missionary sympathetically pressed three Alka-Seltzers into my palm and told me he never attended a Chinese dinner without them.

Our neighbors convinced us we needed a maid to do our laundry. Since it was only ten dollars monthly, we acquiesced. Imagine my surprise to enter the bathroom and find her washing the clothes by soaping them and then rubbing them briskly on the bathroom floor! It didn't do much for the clothes, but that was the cleanest bathroom floor we have ever possessed.

Suzy graduated from the sixth grade and was so excited she snatched her diploma from the teacher before it could be passed to the principal for presentation. Now we were ready to leave. We had found much difficulty staying, and now we found we could not leave without permission. That was withheld because the authorities said we were not legally there since Suzy and I had not had proper visas -- even though they had since extended them. Richard logically pointed out that if our visas were not in order the best thing for us to do was leave since they didn't want us to stay -- and what could they do but allow us to leave? They calmly informed him they were considering putting us in jail!

During those days Rick spent more time with the immigration authorities than he did with us. At last they said we could leave if we would write a letter of apology and say how well they had treated us and how badly we had behaved. We didn't see what we had to apologize for and felt they had treated us rather shabbily, but there was no way out; so we wickedly wrote a letter that was so grossly servile and ridiculous that we were nervous they would be angry all over again. Instead they were delighted, and after paying a fine we left by ship for Hong Kong. Fortunately for us, $500 had arrived from the States just in time to bail us out.

We arrived in Hong Kong without reservations. We had lost the ones made at the YMCA because we had cancelled them twice due to our immigration difficulties, and they didn't trust us anymore. We had piles of luggage, and it began to rain, and we didn't know where to go. The YMCA was next to the Peninsula Hotel; so Rick checked there. For the price of a room in the hotel they gave us an entire air conditioned suite in the court, and it was wonderful. There were no bugs; it was clean, lovely, and cool, cool, cool.

The telephone rang, and it was the Naval commander who had visited us in Taiwan. When he had returned to his base, some trouble had occurred which might have ruined his career. He was so disturbed about it that he wrote his wife that he had heard we were going to Hong Kong and that he was going there to find us and receive the baptism in the Holy Spirit -- he needed everything he could get! So in the Peninsula Hotel he received his Pentecost. He had brought a friend with him who was converted then and there and received the gift also.

And that was our welcome to Hong Kong. Perhaps it was a portent of things to come during the next three years.

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