Fully Aware

My life in Shanghai has become... well, it has not become simple. China is a far cry from simple. But I have found my comfort zone, such that I often lose track of what kind of life I lead.

This afternoon, church reminded me. In a few different ways, sitting in church reminded me.

When worship began, we sang a song that reminded me of our home church in St. Louis. The tune and the rhythm, the level of energy, everything sounded exactly the same. And just as a scent or a taste can bring back a powerful memory, this song brought me to tears. It was not the words or the message. It was the simple, strong memory of singing this same song in such a different place. Hearing these same words with the same intensity, but by a wholly different group of people. And the reminder that my home has changed regularly, and will continue to do so. I may sing the same song in many different places, surrounded by many different people. Rather intimidating. But how awesome, to worship God in the same way but in such different circumstances.

The song changed. We sat in the balcony, and I enjoyed looking out over the crowd. The government of China strictly regulates all houses of worship, and keeps foreigners separate from locals as much as they can. To attend our service, one must hold a foreign passport. But the city has only allowed two Protestant churches for the English speaking community. I do not know of any for another language, beyond the local languages. One Catholic church exists for foreigners as well, and so our church makes up 30% of the foreign Christian community in Shanghai. At least, of those who attend church. The foreign population in Shanghai is estimated at around 175,000 people representing countries around the globe. Looking down upon the congregation this afternoon, I watched a beautiful diversity of people worshiping together. On the stage, I saw Western, Asian and African faces. People worshiped with different styles and in different clothes. And we all worshiped in a beautiful building. A building in French architecture built for the foreign community of the early 1900s. A building which sat empty once the foreign population left, and then became a storehouse for grain during the cultural revolution. This afternoon, we worshiped in a building only recently allowed to be a house of God again. We worshiped in a city where our worship is strictly regulated. We worshiped in a country where Christianity was illegal only recently. And we worshiped with people who may have stricter regulations in their homeland.

And we sang,

I am free to run,
I am free to dance,
I am free to live for You.

I am free to run,
I am free to dance,
I am free to live for You.

I am free.

I felt rarely and fully present in my surroundings. Grateful that I have always felt that freedom. But also cognizant of the power of those words in a land where freedom does not come from the government.