With the Liu family in front of their chapel in Tainan. |
For most of the Christian world, Easter is associated with eggs, baskets, and bunnies. The celebration of new life and spring seems to grace our memories as children when considering this holiday. As we grow older, hopefully we gain a better understanding of its religious significance and take the time to really consider Jesus Christ and His glorious resurrection and what that means for us personally.
Knowing we would be in Taiwan over Easter I had not given too much thought to how we would celebrate this holiday with the children. To be honest, over the last few years I've tried to draw a line of demarkation between the Easter Bunny and the true meaning of the day, so I didn't necessarily mind that there wasn't all the typical hoopla associated with baskets full of candy this year. The local congregation's children's activity the day before seemed to be all we really needed. However, it wasn't until we stepped foot into that chapel on Easter Sunday that I fully comprehended the singular meaning behind this year's observance.
By way of background, 15+ years ago when I began serving as a missionary I remembered hearing that Elder Liu's father had passed away right before he left to be a missionary. I remember considering how difficult this must have been for him, and was amazed at his ability to exude such constant joy, but until this visit, I had no idea what kind of hardship he actually faced in serving his mission.
Back in 1949 after the Communists took control of China, the defeated Chiang Kai-Shek-led Nationalists fled to Taiwan. Elder Liu's father was among those who had fought in the Nationalist army and tried to resettle on the island. With the large number of displaced soldiers in addition to the local young men already there, the ratio of men to eligible young women was overwhelming. As a result, many marriages that typically would never have taken place were now a possibility.
Among those unlikely unions was Elder Liu's parents. Not only was Elder Liu's father 30-40 years older than his mother, but she was also mentally disabled. From what I understand, when Mrs. Liu was a young child of about seven years old, she had some sort of serious illness--a brain fever of sorts. The fever was so severe it affected her brain, and she emerged from that ailment a different child. After that point she never progressed beyond the mental capacity of a seven-year-old. Though her physical capacity was unaffected, her brain was never the same.
And so, the Liu Family began in the face of incredible odds, and one can only imagine how difficult it must have been to make such a scenario work. Eventually Mr. Liu met two young LDS missionaries, and converted to the gospel. He chose to raise his young son and daughter within the church, blessing them with not only an understanding of their intrinsic spiritual value and worth in God's eyes, but also with other adult mentors who would look out for them long after Mr. Liu would pass away.
Eventually, Mr. Liu did pass away, leaving behind his barely adult children with the responsibility of caring for their disabled mother. This was an incredibly difficult time for Elder Liu. Technically at an age and time where he would be eligible to serve a mission, his mother's family strongly objected to the idea of him leaving behind his mother for two years. I can't imagine the internal conflict he must have felt. It makes my decision to serve a mission seem like a walk in the park.
Though I am not certain of exactly how things materialized, ultimately Elder Liu felt God wanted him to serve a mission, and his uncle agreed to care for his mother in his absence. I can't imagine what kind of courage he would have needed in order to say goodbye to his vulnerable mother for such a long time. That feeling must have been excruciating . . . And yet serve, he did, affecting so many people, including myself, for good. I know of many people who knew him and felt the love of the Savior through his goodness.
When I asked Elder Liu about his mission, he is unequivocal about its importance in his life. He says it was absolutely crucial in helping him to grow, and preparing him to become the kind of husband, father, friend, neighbor, and leader he really wanted to be. So much of who he became pivoted on that difficult decision to serve a faithful mission, and on this past Easter morning, I felt I received a glimpse of the eternal rewards attached to such sacrifice.
As we were running a bit late, the kids and I rushed into the chapel and quickly found the pew Sister Liu had saved for us. When I glanced around me at the robust congregation, I smiled. It felt wonderful to be worshipping together on such a day. As we took the sacrament I thought of the Savior and in that moment I looked up at Elder Liu--now Bishop Liu--and marveled at how radiant he was. I could literally feel his love for his congregation, and for the service he was engaged in as their servant for the last six years. The spirit felt effulgent and real, and I was struck by how remarkable it was to see someone so transformed, so magnified by his sacrifice and love for Christ. . . .
And that was when I realized that this is exactly the Easter message I wanted for my children this year. I want them to see that difficult circumstances, disappointed expectations, and broken hearts can all be healed through the atonement of Jesus Christ. I want them to know that any of us, regardless of how crippled we are, can be made complete through His love, and that He is a God of miracles--beyond our wildest dreams. Certainly the resurrection is an inconceivable wonder, but so is God's ability to make us new, to make us whole, to make us more than we could ever be on our own, but only when we are willing to turn our will over to His. When we do this in faith--both in His timing and in His methods--we will likely be surprised and we will inevitably experience joy.
In the Liu home before heading south. At the back is Gao Baba, Elder Liu's bishop when he was a young child, and coincidentally a good friend of Li-ling's as well. |
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