Lord I Say Yes to Your Will

 

Chapter One

Peter Lu’s Testimony in January 1994

I experienced a life-changing week during the Christmas break when I attended Urbana 93, the Christian student conference held at Urbana/Champaign Illinois. I had never thought about attending the conference before November, 1993. The cost was too high and there were other practical obstacles that I couldn’t see how I could overcome.

God began His work during one chapel time last November when our school’s pastor prayed for this conference and for “the students who wanted to go but had no means to.” I guess that prayer was for me. That night, a friend called me and encouraged me to go. I told her about my difficulties. She offered her generous help. I decided to go.

On Monday, December 26th, I arrived at the University of Illinois at Champaign. After two hours worship on the first night, I called my cousin and told her that I sensed something life-changing would happen that week. It turned out to be the most important week in my life.

We had two general sessions every day, in which we sang worship songs, studied the seven “I am” statements made by Jesus in the Gospel of John, and listened to testimonies told by missionaries. Besides that, I had two seminars every day and two small group prayer/Bible study times. The daily schedule started at seven in the morning and ended at midnight. We were all tired but excited. God answered the prayers of more than one hundred people who had prayed continually for this conference during the past three years. The Holy Spirit filled the auditorium during the worship times. Many students were called to devote their lives to mission fields.

My most precious memory was the concert of prayer on Tuesday night, during which God called on me to devote my whole life to the mission field. 18,000 students, on our knees, confessed our sins of neglecting the needs of the world. We prayed for the Muslim world and the children suffering from hunger, family abuse and war.

We sang some new songs. This song especially touched me:

 

“We’ll walk the land with hearts on fire
and every step will be a prayer
Hope is rising
New day dawning
Sound of singing fills the air
Two thousand years,
And still the flame
Is burning bright across the land
Hearts are waiting, longing, aching
For awakening once again.
Let the flame burn stronger
In the hearts of darkness
Turning nights to glorious days
Let the song grow louder
As our love grows stronger
Let it shine,
Let it shine!”

 

The screen showed people of different nationalities worshipping God, children in Africa dying for malnutrition, Chinese students demonstrating on Tiananmen Square . . . I started weeping. A thought grasped my mind: men were created by God to be His friends, walking and talking together in the Garden of Eden; but since when did we fall into such a condition: poor, cruel and apathetic?

During the past several years, I had always sensed that God wanted me to live a meaningful life, but I could not give up my own plan of life. This selfish plan became more promising since I came to America. I would be a doctor, be rich, and earn myself a prosperous life. I believe that there is nothing wrong with such a life; but subconsciously I understand that a rich scholar is not what God wants me to be. My selfish concern was the major obstacle for me to dedicate my life to the mission field. That night, all these selfish concerns were removed. I could not forget the painful reality of the world. If I still held on to my plan, I would never have peace again. I decided to serve the world with my whole life. Since that moment, all the scriptures we had learned at Urbana and all the songs we had sung became truly meaningful to me. I could sing with joy: “I am here, Lord. I will hold your people in my heart.”

God continued to strengthen my determination throughout the rest of the conference. The peak was Friday night, December 31st, the last moment at Urbana. After a communion with 18,000 people, the director of InterVarsity prayed for us that: “God will use your life to do more than you can dream.” 18,000 students shouted with a joyful and earth-shaking “Amen!” At 12 a.m. the screen showed “1994, Happy New Year.” That moment, we sang: I say “yes, Lord!” to your will and to your way!

An indescribable joy filled my heart. We jumped and hugged others, saying “Happy New Year.” I had never been so happy in my life. That was a wonderful start to the new year.

The Urbana speakers encouraged us to take concrete steps to answer God’s calling. My current plan is:

First, to be more active in campus ministries of my school. I will share my vision with seven other students participating in Trinity Summer Mission. (TSM is a program of my college that sends students each year for short-term mission trips. I applied this year and I am going to Austria this summer to participate in church-planting work.) Although Austria is not the first place I would like to go, I know I will learn a lot about God’s faithfulness during the whole process. This is my first short-term mission and God prepared this for me even before I gained the vision of mission!

Second, to study the Bible more diligently and read other books regularly to learn how to reach out and place myself under Christ’s Lordship.

Third, to participate in more short-term missions. I have contacted some medical missionary agencies at Urbana. One program is called “the mercy ships.” Three ships are sponsored to go to Africa and South America to give free medical care and the gospel. Before I am qualified for medical work, I can go to experience the life on the ship for several months.

My life-long plan is to be a missionary doctor. There are various ways to do that. I can work on the mercy ships as a long-term doctor. I can go to some other countries where medical care and the gospel are extremely needed. Turkey and some Muslim countries, where missionary visas are not issued, need medical and technical professionals. China needs scholars teaching at medical schools. Above all, I trust that God will do more that I can dream.

Chapter Two

Carmen Tolhurst: My Friendship With Peter Lu

Peter Lu’s death stands in front of me, huge and close. Sometimes it has been so close that I could not see around it.

The story of my relationship with Peter Lu began two years before he was born. As a foreign student in a seminar under Visiting Professor Denlinger, who had left China in 1949, I was drawn by the possibility of clarifying for myself something about the tenuous and complex relationships of language, faith and culture. Profoundly disequilibriated by my cultural journey, disturbed by the questions that confront a person living in a foreign country, I felt overwhelmed by the way in which my intuition of personal unity was shaken. I would return to these as a central concern and catalyst for reflection and growth in my personal and academic life.

In that spring of 1972 Professor Denlinger talked of language and culture-and he spoke of China. I listened. There must have been others in the sessions; I remember no one but Denlinger -brilliant and wiry-and China. Who can name the reasons why a certain place, its people, their culture, and experience, resonate in one so deeply and not another? China did that in me, and that is where I dreamed of going.

In 1982, weeks away from leaving for a work assignment in Tien Tsien, People’s Republic of China, suddenly, I found all of the doors slammed shut.

In 1987 I found myself with colleagues traveling from Beijing south to Kunming to teach for the summer at a university. Riveted to the window as we traveled across thousands of kilometers of undulating fields and terraces sometimes impossibly cut into deep gorges and steep mountainsides, I wondered: How? Who? Why? Questions flooded over me. Slowly, pieces of answers came together; slowly I began to make sense.

They say that one’s body, its placement and how it uses space, makes a profound moral statement before one even speaks a word. China’s countryside made that kind of initial, majestic statement to me. The Chinese people I met, unremarkable, familiar, ordinary folk, gave the statement vibrancy. Their stories of suffering and joy, misfortune and overcoming, of doing all one does to continue and renew life under extraordinary circumstances, left me utterly shaken. My Chinese students and colleagues showed me more joy in learning than I ever dreamed possible. I came back utterly changed.

In China a friendship with a colleague whom I valued deeply was compromised.

I looked at the clock, groaned and reached for the phone. It was 11:00 p.m., mid-April 1997. Who could it be? Peter’s characteristically bemused voice apologized for calling late. I had last seen him in March when he traveled back to Trinity to attend a piano recital by his beloved teacher, Jackie. He had asked me briefly, “How’s Tom?” Peter had taken my boy under his tutelage during a difficult time in his life. “That’s good,” he smiled at my report. On this night I heard excitement in his voice.

 

-Do you remember you said my parents could stay with you last year for graduation?
-Of course!
-Well, can I bring my mom to you in a couple of weeks?
-Peter! She’s got a visa?

 

We arranged for Peter, his friend and his mom to visit for several days in early May. I agreed, if he would treat us to some of his cooking.

Peter Lu’s astonishing application came to Trinity College Admissions in late summer, 1991. We weren’t used to receiving students from Shanghai, China. And here was this boy with spectacular academic credentials, besides! Elated but wary, we wondered: can he make it with so little actual experience in English? Determined to help make it happen, Admissions appealed to the President.

Looking terribly young, precise, expectant, Peter finally arrived in October on a full, four-year scholarship. During his second semester at Trinity, for his first research paper he analyzed the cross-cultural journey using a social Darwinist framework. When I told him I liked his work, he said it was fun! He talked about coveting the chance to write creatively during his high school years, so he flowered in the expressive freedom of American education. But Peter’s habit of academic discipline gave wings to his creative impulse.

I had begun to think about passion seriously sometime in the early 1990s-more precisely, the passion to know-and how, contrary to common wisdom, passion and reason are not disconnected or opposing forces. Some of my thoughts I discussed with the students:

 

• Joy at confirming an insight is like a flame reaching, flaming onward
• My mom feigned complaints about my curiosity: “You invent problems for yourself!”
• Utter skepticism, or credulity seems self-regarding and central to cognitive apathy.
• Surprise (foiling our expectations) seems central to revising our internal maps.
• Tenacity is a sine qua non of knowledge.
• Dogmatism disclaims responsibility for experience.
• I used to imagine potential as a line running into a positive horizon.
• Now I see we need fortitude to be able to cut back negative potential.
• C.S.Lewis talks about watering deserts, not cutting down forests.

 

I used to say to Peter that I didn’t care if the science department had snagged him-he would feel compelled to write! He would tell me not to scare him. Once we talked with other foreign students about how we were the American Dream! Peter began working as a tutor, and Diane Milton, his supervisor enjoyed describing his work-he taught multiple subjects at once, conducting his sessions masterfully and with wry humor.

At 7:00 a.m. Thursday May 8, with no forethought or planning, I called Jackie. Personal suffering had restored our friendship; our common experience in China and with Peter would strengthen it.

 

-Can you eat dinner with us tonight? Peter Lu and his mom are coming.
-Really?
-She’s got a visa! They’re arriving this afternoon!
-Sure! I’ll come right from school.

 

I had a good day at school. I rushed home by 3:30 p.m. The phone rang.

 

-Carmen, what are you doing?
-I’ve got the broom in my hand-just starting to clean Peter’s room. They’re arriving about 4:30.
-Carmen, sit down a minute.
-Jackie, what is it?
-The Missouri State Police just called. Peter is dead.
-No-o-o-o. No. Not Peter.

 

In The Book of Job we read a curious allusion to the sounds of ostriches and jackals. They describe what must have been Job’s cries of terrible anguish, his repudiation of what is.

Taxonomies usually tell us little. Often life seems sublime in its indifference; events are distant and foreign, hostile to each other. And God answers us with silence. Perhaps. If we note no connections, if we fail to hear the Silence in the Whirlwind as Voice.

 

• Peter and his friend were incinerated in a horrendous auto accident on May 7.
• The State Police can find no one who knows where they were heading.
• His school records contain the telephone and address of his parents and no one else.
• Someone working with international students recalls that Peter spoke of a piano teacher at his undergraduate school.
• Carmen unexpectedly invites Jackie to help welcome Peter and his mother at her home.
• The State Police locate Jackie, who calls Carmen
• Waiting six hours for her son, Betty sees his teacher rushing down the moving walkway.

 

While in China, my heart had stayed in my throat at the significance of what I was seeing-the one child policy. I had written a poem entitled, “Little Emperor, Little King.” I had ached to hold my own two children to my heart.

Slowly, as though pushing through an obstacle, a thought forms while I am on the phone: Peter’s mom is waiting somewhere at the airport. I don’t know her name, the airline, the arrival time. Desperately I call the Records office at Trinity asking for the name or number of someone to contact in the United States. They have a wrong number. The Los Angeles operator works with me, giving me several, and the first number I call is Peter’s Aunt, who has stayed home from work that day. Hope gives me her sister’s name and flight number. My neighbor waits in the car; I don’t know if I may need help. Finally, at 6:30, rushing across the electric walkway, I look up and see at the end of the walk a woman about my age sitting straight and alert, a suitcase on either side of her. It is Peter’s face at its most serious that looks into mine. I am terrified. I think she is.

 

-Betty?

 

With singular restraint and respect she asks:

 

-You are Peter’s teacher?
-Yes. Carmen
-Betty holds my gaze in hers.
-Carmen, where is Peter?
-The police called, Betty.
-Is Peter at the police station?
-No-I panic-
-What happened?
-A terrible accident -I lock my hand in hers. Oh, God.
-Betty, let’s sit down.

 

I hold Betty tightly. Job’s ostriches and jackals pour out their unassuageable grief.

 

-Oh! He was my only one.

 

My heart is in my throat once more, as in China. Yes, Betty. Your only one.

That night, three women-three mothers, three sisters-stand as one in the middle of life and death. But only one can drink of the cup that’s inscribed with a language none of us can speak.

Chapter Three

Betty Lu: A Mother’s Testimony

At O’Hare Airport in Chicago, it was two in the afternoon on the eighth of May 1997. I was filled with joy because in a few minutes I would be able to see Peter.

Peter is my only son. After high school graduation in 1992, he was accepted by Shanghai Medical College and the Biological Sciences Department at Trinity International University in the state of Illinois. He came to the US in the fall of 1992, and graduated in May of 1996. He enrolled later in the Masters and doctoral program at the Missouri State University’s Medical School. Last year, he invited us to attend his graduation ceremony and his piano recital. We were unable to obtain visas and thus could not come; Peter was very disappointed. This time, I was able to get the visa and arrived at Los Angeles on April 30th. I stayed in my sister’s home for a week before coming to see Peter. After such a long time, how could I not be excited!

Nonetheless, I waited until five in the afternoon without seeing Peter. Thoughts of uneasiness crossed my mind. What had happened?

After some time, a middle-aged, dark-haired lady came to me. She was Carmen, Peter’s teacher at Trinity International University. She said Peter was involved in an auto accident while coming here, and had passed away. . .

I could not believe my ears. Perhaps I had heard wrong. The grief and tears on Carmen’s face finally convinced me. Peter indeed had passed away in an auto accident . . . My only son had left me just when we were about to meet after such a long time.

That evening, I stayed with Professor Carmen. I was unable to sleep through the night. At midnight, the police called to confirm Peter’s death on May 7th while driving from Kansas City to Chicago in his Ford. The car got out of control, crossed the median and hit an oncoming truck head-on, resulting in an immediate explosion and instant death of the driver.

I could not stop weeping that night, despondent and sad. Past images of Peter smiling went through my mind.

From youth to university graduation, Peter had always been an excellent and model student. He won a number of awards in the city-wide competitions on math, chemistry, physics and English. He was saved and baptized when he was at the precious age of thirteen. At grade eight, he refused to answer half of a Biology final question concerning Darwinian evolution as a testimony for the biblical truth. The result: he had perfect grades in all subjects except biology with only a passing grade; and missed the “award for excellence.” All his classmates felt sorry for him, but Peter was happy. He had not sold himself as Esau had just for a lentil stew. When he graduated from high school, God led him to Trinity International University. Peter’s spiritual life grew in this institution that had Biblical truth as the basis for all sciences and knowledge.

After attending the Urbana Conference at the end of 1993, Peter wrote us: “The people from Africa as a group have the least amount of hope; they desperately need the Gospel. I cannot just plan for my own future . . . I always had an American dream: study hard to be a medical doctor so as to earn big money, have a good house, a nice car, and give toward charity . . . But all these seem so far away from me now. A medical missionary has no fixed income and needs to depend on offering. I will be poor but willingly. It is the mission of our generation to preach the gospel to the ends of the earth. It is also the prelude to Christ coming. Therefore, father and mother, perhaps you could not depend on me to support you in your retirement. From now on I will live by faith. I will seek for my future mate only someone who is likeminded so that we can serve together in Africa.”

From that time onward, he served with zeal. In summer, he abandoned the opportunities to earn money and participated in the school’s summer short-term evangelistic teams instead. He counseled problem youth in San Francisco, evangelized AIDS patients, gave to charities and supported two poor children from another country . . . We were very moved in watching Peter’s spiritual growth after his decision to serve the Lord full time.

I could not understand how a young man of twenty-two years of age, a servant who had decided to serve God, one who had just started to labor for the Lord, had gone to heaven so early. I cried and prayed, but did not hear any answer . . .

The next day in the afternoon, I flew to Missouri State University at Kansas City to take care of Peter’s belongings. Around four o’clock, six students took me to the crematorium. On the way I cried and prayed: “Oh Lord, I cannot continue if I do not receive strength from you, I can’t bear the sight of Peter’s body . . .”

In my weakest hour, the Lord held me up. I heard Him say to me: “Your son is not here in the crematorium. He is in my bosom. He is enjoying a heavenly joy beyond the earth.”

I immediately felt strengthened, because God’s comfort is superior to man’s. Peter was already in heaven, better than any of us. Why was I so selfish, unwilling to release him to be with God?

Yes, Peter was not here in the crematorium. There were only ashes. I did not see Peter’s body, because when his car lost control traveling at 70 miles an hour, the collision with the truck killed him instantly and incinerated his body. He did not suffer; nor did he struggle. When I could not bear this heavy burden, God lifted it up. The desperate feeling of losing a son gradually gave way . . . From my heart thanksgiving and praise began to flow.

The next day, I visited the scene of the accident. Many of the students tried to comfort me when they observed my tears. I told them I was no longer sad for Peter’s death, but I wept for them because they had not yet known the Lord and His saving grace. How fragile was human life, “As for man, his days are like grass, as a flower of the field, so he flourishing. For the wind passes over it and it is gone, and its place remembers it no more” (Psalm 103: 15-16). However the God who gave us eternal life-His love never changes, from eternity to eternity. He said: “He who believes in Me though he may die, he shall live. Whoever lives and beleives in Me shall never die” (John 11: 25-26). All the students were moved by these words, and said that they would go back to listen to the Gospel at the church where Peter served.

Before we left the crematorium, a girl named Maggie who worked there told us the following. In the accident, almost everything was consumed by the fire, except for a Bible that was completely undamaged. When she went near, she saw the Bible was turned to Leviticus. As she was picking it up, a sudden gust blew the pages from one side to the other and finally closed the Bible. On the side was written Peter’s name.

Leviticus talked about holiness-that man must be holy in order to worship God. God delights in a holy offering. Through that Bible the Lord conveyed to me: first, everything will pass away but His grace will be from everlasting to everlasting for those who fear Him. Second, He was pleased with Peter and received him to Heaven. Peter was with God, and therefore the Bible closed.

What a marvelous testimony! Maggie also told me that she used to trust the Lord in her youth, but left God when she grew up. She was very moved when she saw how God spoke to her through this Bible. She has decided to go back to the Lord.

“Unless a grain of wheat falls into the ground and dies, it remains alone. But if it dies, it produces much grain” (John 12:24). Through the physical death of Peter, God renewed the spirit of many, and testified of his salvation to others such as the six students from Missouri. He also spoke to those who had lost their first love and faith, like Maggie, others who came to the memorial service from California, including Peter’s best friend Liang Hui who was just baptized. I was tremendously comforted knowing that Peter’s testimony has not diminished even in death. I no longer despaired, but give thanks and praise.

Chapter Four

James Lu: A Father’s Testimony
Seven a.m., May 9. In China.

After prayer and Bible reading, I started the day’s work. The phone rang. I thought it was one of my students trying to make an appointment to see me. Little did I expect that it was my sister-in-law from Los Angeles. She informed me that Peter had passed away in an auto accident. I could hardly believe this abrupt misfortune; everything darkened and I almost passed out.

Peter was our only son. He was a gift from God in the 70s when I was born-again. For more than twenty years we had loved him more than anything in the world. He had yet to complete his twenty-third year of age. How could he leave this world so young, so hastily?

That day, the continual calls and mails comfirmed that indeed Peter had passed away in an auto accident. How could this be?! Our son passed away in the prime of life, at a time when he was ready to serve the Lord. I was extremely dejected, unable to choke back tears. I asked: “Oh Lord! Why has this happened to me? Why forsake me alone at home . . .”

Later I received an e-mail from a niece from California Institute of Technology, detailing the accident. After reading the e-mail, I realized that the Ford that Peter was driving had exploded upon impact. Peter was incinerated without leaving a body.

My heart was shaken; I became profuse in tears, and once again I fell into despair. “Oh Lord! You loved Peter, and have taken him home, but why through such a terrible means?” I could not refrain from protest.

“As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts” (Isaiah 55:9). At that time I did not understand that the way Peter passed away was part of God’s grace and plan. The instant that the Ford collided with the truck, Peter passed away without a struggle, without pain. He left in the expectant spirit of seeing his mother and meeting the Lord in joy.

Throughout that day, the Holy Spirit spoke to me, comforted me, and encouraged me. I understood that the body of a Christian is like a house, a place for the soul to reside. If we sell the house, and leave it, we remain the same; there is no need to be saddened. Peter’s spirit has already been redeemed, left his original body and now is with the Lord in the heavenly home. Death is but a door leading to the eternal home prepared by the Lord for those who love Him. My separation with Peter is only temporary, because in Christ we shall meet again.
I came to the US on the 22nd of May to take care of Peter’s belongings. A few days later, God spoke to me again. That evening, my wife was going through Peter’s possessions. She noticed that among the more than two hundred letters from us in five years, there was a thick letter still with stamps on. She took out the six pages from the envelope and discovered that, besides the two pages from us to Peter, there was a poem in both Chinese and English. It reminded me of something I had almost forgotten. Toward the end of August in 1995, a brother in Christ asked me to translate from English a poem that he needed to quote in a sermon. This is the poem:

 

I’ll lend you, for a little while,
a child of mine, He said,
For you to love while he lives,
and mourn when he is dead.
It may be six or seven years,
or twenty-two, or -three,
But will you, ’til I come back,
take care of him for me?
He’ll bring his charms and gladden you, and shall his stay be brief,
You’ll have his lovely memories
as solace for your grief.
I cannot promise he will stay,
as all from earth shall return.
But there are lessons taught down
here I want this child to learn.
I’ve looked the wide world over
in my search for teachers true.
And from the throngs that
crowd life’s lanes, I have selected you.
Now will you give him all your love
-not think the labor vain.
Nor hate me when I come to call
to take him back again?

I fancied that I heard them say,
“Dear Lord, thy will be done.
For all the joy this child shall bring,
the risk of grief we’ll run.
We’ll shower him with tenderness
and love him while we may,
And for the happiness we’ve known,
forever grateful stay.
And should the angels call for him much sooner than we planned,
We’ll brave the bitter grief that comes, and try to understand.”

 

This is no fiction. It is based upon the true experience of Mr. and Mrs. Reed, a young couple who lost their daughter. In an outing, their six-year-old daughter Wendy asked for permission to be in another car to accompany a friend without her parents being present. Unfortunately, in a head-on collision, Wendy passed away. During the funeral, Wendy’s parents, though they had tears and grief, did not show any desperation. They were as calm as usual. Asked how they could remain so undisturbed, they answered, “If six years ago God had asked us if we would like to take care of a girl named Wendy for six years who belonged to Him, saying to us: ‘I need someone to love her, take care of her, teach her to know me,’ of course we would have said yes. And it turned out that God did plan it this way. He already knew that Wendy would live for six years. We are willing to give thanks to the Lord for every day of the past six years. We miss Wendy very much. We have cried grievously, and we may cry again. But we all know we will meet her again in heaven. For all this we give thanks to God.”

I still remember clearly asking myself after reading the poem whether I could assume that attitude if ever the same thing happened to me, an attitude without complaint but only praise and thanksgiving? When this thought had come, I said to myself: “No, that won’t happen. God loves him, and will use him . . .”

I remember writing to Peter and mentioning my feelings that evening. I sent him this poem in both English and Chinese as. It gradually faded from my memory, and completely disappeared, until that evening.

When I reread this poem, I understood that God had spoken to us, father and son, in His unique way. Two years later, when Peter was about to celebrate his twenty-third birthday (on June 6th), God took him away, just as it was said in the poem, “twenty-two, twenty-three years . . . ” The moment I realized that calling Peter home was God’s plan, I knelt and prayed, thanking God for everything. Christian children are all God’s children. God gave them to us to take care of them. What moved us is to be chosen among the crowd by God, to teach him on God’s behalf and to learn from His life here on earth, for all who have believed will return to heaven. We were told ahead of time by the Lord in this marvelous way.

God’s love is unlimited. Our love toward our own children cannot be compared with His love toward us. Our doubts were vanquished by the greatness of the love of God. Peace had filled my heart. I was no longer despondent, but thankful with praise. I bowed before the Lord: “Oh Lord! Your thoughts are higher than our thoughts. Your ways are higher than ours. May your name be glorified. May your will be done!”

–Peter Lu, from China, had studied at Trinity International University and the University of Missouri when he died in a car accident May 7, 1997. Carmen Tolhurst, is Professor of English at Trinity International University. James and Betty Lu, the parents of Peter, live in China.

-This article is from Christian Life Quarterly, 1998, Vol. 2, No. 1, pp. 25-32.