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Will Kiehn is seemingly destined for life as a humble farmer in the Midwest when, having felt a call from God, he travels to the vast North China Plain in the early twentieth century. There he is surprised by love and weds a strong and determined fellow missionary, Katherine. They soon find themselves witnesses to the crumbling of a more than two-thousand-year-old dynasty that plunges the country into decades of civil war...… (meer)
As the grandchild & nephew of Mennonite missionaries to India I am drawn to this genre. I found this exploration of the missionary life sorely lacking. As opposed to offering a postmodern reflection on cultural relativism and colonialism, it is a 1950’s recruiting manual for one particular strand of Christianity.
For the most part God gets a pass, evil and loss are mysterious whereas fortunate turn of events are divine grace. At least part of the fortuitous events are due to a benevolent bandit, although the characters do not reflect on the source of those particular acts of grace.
If you are looking for a deeper exploration of the missionary movement I recommend “The Poisonwood Bible,” “At Play in the Fields of the Lord,” or “Dancing at Lughnasa.” ( )
City of Tranquil Light, reads smoothly and consistently as it tells of the story of an American missionary couple's work for the Mennonite church. Caldwell focuses on their love and kindness as they face difficulties like famine, illness, and bandits. The book is nicely written but I have a preference for books with more inner conflict in their main characters -- Will and Katherine were believable but sometimes a little too tranquil.
Another lovely book about China by this great author - This one was based on her grandparents and their missionary work in a small Chinese city in the early 1900s - The story was always engrossing and the marital relationship was inspiringly tender and loving -
I was moved by the couple's faith which was challenged in many ways as they felt called to live and work in a strange and often harsh new world filled with hardship, suffering, and ultimately with great reward - The author did a beautiful job of presenting loving people who lived a deeply spiritual life yet expressed their humanity, failures and successes fully. ( )
I loved Caldwell's first book, so I was excited to get an ARC in the mail. This book, like the first is about family and China. In this case she uses her grandparent's experiences as missionaries as a premise and writes a story from there. The book is Narrative from Will and Diary excerpts from Katherine. It tells about love, loss, hardship, and victories living in China in early 20th century. I wasn't sure I was going to like it because I'm not sure about missionaries. I believe cultures should be able to keep their identities and customs. That is what makes the world so interesting. But I see the good they did, showing love, forgiveness, healing, and compassion. The people were drawn to them because of that and I feel good about that. Caldwell is honest; brutal and gentle. I enjoyed this book more than I expected and am waiting for her next book. ( )
This is a story about the best of humanity. To make "good" characters seem real, believable, and likable is a challenge and Caldwell has come up to the task. Usually interesting characters display all kinds of character flaws. Will's main character flaw seems to be a bit of pride mixed with a bit of impatience. Katherine's weakness is physical. These are probably two of the most genuinely good people I have ever encountered in fiction.
I thoroughly appreciated the author's portrayal of the Mennonite faith and how that faith was put into action. Although my acquaintances have never made the sacrifices required of Will and Katherine, I have been fortunate to encounter a number of individuals who exhibit the same kind of peace, humility, and dedication. This story is totally believable and told without the least bit of cynicism. This is a story about individuals who put their faith into action told by an author who refuses to preach or resort to being didactic. It's a straightforward story about two individuals who first love God, then learn to love each other, and eventually love a country and people far different than the close Mennonite culture where they were raised.
I gave this book a four simply because I wasn't particularly fond of the story told alternately by Will and Katherine. I suppose this gave the reader "both sides" of the story, but to my mind, it was just awkward. However, good read and highly recommended. ( )
Informatie afkomstig uit de Engelse Algemene Kennis.Bewerk om naar jouw taal over te brengen.
For Kate and Scotty and Ron, real and constant blessings in my life -- with love
Eerste woorden
Informatie afkomstig uit de Engelse Algemene Kennis.Bewerk om naar jouw taal over te brengen.
Suppose it is an autumn day, fine and clear and cool.
Citaten
Informatie afkomstig uit de Engelse Algemene Kennis.Bewerk om naar jouw taal over te brengen.
… my wife’s diary, a thin volume I never read while she was alive but whose pages I now know by heart. Reading her sporadic entries is bittersweet, for while they bring our years together to life, they also show me my flaws and the ways in which I hurt her, unintentional though they war. But her pages make it seem that she is near, and if the price I pay for that closeness is regret it is a bargain still, albeit a painful one.
Katherine, there are practices in this country that you will dislike, I assure you. But some of these we must accept as they are. We are here to offer the people the gift of faith, not remake their way of life, even when the change seems necessary and right. It’s a question of choosing your battles. Remember that we’re guests, and uninvited ones at that.
… Chung Chiu Chieh, the Moon Festival, which is a celebration of the autumn harvest and the end of summer… The people see the moon’s round shape as representing the family circle, and they gather with their relations to stare up at the full moon together. This perhaps sounds silly, but it isn’t; it’s beautiful, and it is my favorite night of the year.
Many people have left the city. … Many others have come to us; each day at our gate we find a dozen or more refugees … Perhaps half of our refugees are infants and children, their ribs showing through their ragged tunics, their eyes sunken and hollow. Some are orphans whose parents have starved to death; others have been abandoned by parents who can’t feed them and decide it’s better to leave them here than take them along, only to bury them down the road. The parents bring their children to the compound gates then just disappear, or they plead with us first then tell their children goodbye and turn and walk away as the children cry and try to run after them while we hold them back. It is horrible, and I wake each morning with dread.
Not all of these desperate parents bring their daughters and sons to us; some send them to live with relatives, others tie them to trees and leave them there. Still others sell their offspring, either because they want the money or as a way to keep the children alive. At first this was a clandestine affair, but now the selling of children, especially young girls, is a brisk business with its own stand at the market, where anyone can buy a girl for three dollars.
Tonight before I came upstairs I stood in the doorway, looking at the dozens of cots and baskets and the sleeping children and babies that they held. The room smelled of them, a dusky, heavy scent, and the sound of their breathing was like a distant ocean. After seeing so much hardship and death in the last six months, I have found the nearness of the children to be a salve. … Since returning from furlough, the word “childless” has taken up residence in my mind. It sits in the room of my thoughts like an unwelcome guest. But tonight I found a different word lingering my mind: “childfull”. I’m no longer childless; I’m childfull, for although I have not one child of my own, I have the unexpected gift of a hundred who are like my own, a fact that fills my cracked heart with purpose.
We are at war; we hear gunfire and cannon, we taste gunpowder, and Kuang P’ing Ch’eng has become a city of the wounded. … We are short of medical supplies – bandages, dressings, sutures, medications – partly because of the great need but also because the war has so disrupted transportation that we receive only a few of our orders. When we began caring for the wounded, I tore strips of white cloth into bandages, but we used those up in two days. I have found horrifying ways to economize; we salvage the used bandages from the living and the dead, wash them in great tubs of water that becomes instantly red, then use the bandages again. We are short of anesthetics, and I must reserve our limited supply for those who will live, no matter how intense the pain of the dying. It is as simple and harsh an equation as that, and although it nearly makes me ill, there is nothing to be done.
Almost nothing. In times such as these one must be flexible and for those who are too injured or ill to recover I have looked no further than our own backyard for something to relieve the pain of passing from this life to the next. I give them opium. … These I dole out carefully to our dying, not to hasten death but to lessen the pain that accompanies it. I have read of the liberal use of opium pills as an anesthetic for pain during the American Civil War, and I see no reason why the soldiers in China’s Civil War should not be afforded the same relief sixty years later. If I had syringes of morphine or unlimited chloroform or ether, I would gladly use any or all of them, but whatever I have must go to those who might live. What I have for our dying is small black opium pills, and giving them to these brutalized men so their deaths become less agonizing is the kindest and holiest act I can perform, and one that I cannot imagine God disapproving of. … And so I move quietly from one man to the next, offering the blessings of opium and faith and thanking God for both.
“In the past, you have been a refuge for those who came to your compound in times of danger or want. We have been grateful for your protection, but that, too, is changing. I fear that in the future the reverse will be true: your presence will put those near you in peril.” He paused for a moment; then, his voice low, he said, “My friend, if the Communists gain power, they will try to kill every missionary in the country; they have said as much. Mission stations will become the most dangerous places to be, rather than the safest.” Finally he met my eyes. “I believe the time is coming when you will need to leave us to protect us.”
People often spoke of the sacrifice Katherine and I had made in going to China. This had always sounded odd to me, for I had never thought of it as sacrifice; I had only been following the desire of my heart. But on that cool November afternoon I understood that there had been a sacrifice nonetheless, a surrendering of one thing of value for the sake of something more valuable. The sacrifice wasn’t in going to China; the sacrifice was in leaving.
Laatste woorden
Informatie afkomstig uit de Engelse Algemene Kennis.Bewerk om naar jouw taal over te brengen.
With the gift of that renewed certainty when I awake each morning, I rise to meet the day and to praise my dear Lord, and to finish my course with joy.
Will Kiehn is seemingly destined for life as a humble farmer in the Midwest when, having felt a call from God, he travels to the vast North China Plain in the early twentieth century. There he is surprised by love and weds a strong and determined fellow missionary, Katherine. They soon find themselves witnesses to the crumbling of a more than two-thousand-year-old dynasty that plunges the country into decades of civil war...
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For the most part God gets a pass, evil and loss are mysterious whereas fortunate turn of events are divine grace. At least part of the fortuitous events are due to a benevolent bandit, although the characters do not reflect on the source of those particular acts of grace.
If you are looking for a deeper exploration of the missionary movement I recommend “The Poisonwood Bible,” “At Play in the Fields of the Lord,” or “Dancing at Lughnasa.” (