Anytime I am able to strike up a conversation, it will inevitably come up. Doesn’t matter when or where—the minimart, at a party, riding a taxi, on the bus, or hailing a motorbike. It even happened while I was in a rowboat passing another rowboat. The following conversation, or some variation of it, always takes place:
“When did you move to Dragon City (or Sinim)?”
“Just a few months ago.”
“Why can you speak Sinim like one of us?”
“My parents were originally from Sinim. I’m a Sinim sojourner, an American.”
A Sinim sojourner is a specific term for the multitude of Sinim who live overseas. Many escaped as refugees to North America, Europe or Australia. Others left as migrants to nearby countries such as Korea or Japan in search of better opportunities for work or education.
I have this conversation with people so often that a friend traveling with me who doesn’t even speak Sinim could soon recognize the exchange.
I haven’t quite figured out what gives away the fact that I’m not a local. Perhaps it’s because I have a southern Sinim accent? Is it the way I dress? The way I look? Strangely enough, many Sinim assume I am of mixed ethnicity, asking if I’m part Sinim and German, or some other Western origin. However, they are almost always caught off guard when I respond in Sinim.
Being labeled a Sinim sojourner has made more tangible the reality that we are to be Christians that live in the world, but distinct enough to not be seen as natives. By our speech, our appearance and conduct, we should give people the impression that we are citizens of a wholly different country, a heavenly one.
“Do you have any family here?” people ask me. “How long will you stay? Are you going to leave for Christmas or New Year?”
“No,” I reply wistfully.
Usually, when locals hear I was born in America but came to live in Sinim, they can’t comprehend why I would make that choice. During my rowboat encounter, a woman who was calling to me across the water from another rowboat exclaimed, “You must really love Sinim!” But more typically people say, “What does Sinim have to offer? Isn’t it better to live in America?”
Is it? It’s hard for me to answer. Though I miss the familiarity of living in America, I have several cultural values that align more closely with the Sinim. On the other hand, although I am a Sinim, I was not shaped by this culture. And difference runs deeper than nationality or ethnicity.
During my first few evenings here, I wrote a note to myself to try to process what I was feeling.
I could have been happy and had more than enough work and ability to do work for the Sinim in America. I could minister to the members of my family who don’t know You. I could get my remaining moments with my grandma before her memory wipes me away. I could be where things are familiar and associated with the love of family and friends, basking in the friendship of people who love You . . .
And yet, for all that I could enjoy, it feels empty . . . it feels like a farce. How can I feel right knowing there are villages, cities, whole regions full of souls without a chance to know Jesus? I can’t. That one shadow of darkness over a people with whom I can try to relate . . . it’s enough to make all my joys in America feel empty.
I am more than a Sinim sojourner. I am a sojourner of Heaven.
No, it isn’t better to live in America, nor is it better to live in Sinim, because neither is our home. The most prosperous and beautiful country will pale in comparison to finally being in our heavenly home. There isn’t any place on earth that will feel like home until all of God’s children are home.
As I daily introduce myself as a Sinim sojourner to the various people I meet, it has made me reflect more deeply on how Christ sojourned in a world that knew Him not. What did a sinful world have to offer Him? The universe had no need for Jesus to leave the glories of heaven, and Jesus would have been justified even if He never decided to save mankind. Yet, the joy of Christ was shadowed by the thought of a wayward world, stirring the depths of love that compelled Him to live among us and redeem us with His life. He left a land of infinite promise, familiarity and convenience, free from sin and its consequences, to come to us. And surely, when the history of redemption is opened someday, we will all exclaim, “He really loved mankind!”
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