A regular churchgoer in my home country, I planned to continue my habit upon arrival in Taiwan. It didn’t matter that I could not understand Taiwanese or Mandarin, my bottom would be in a pew on Sunday morning. I figured it would be enough to hum along with the hymns, bow my head during the prayers and browse through my English Bible the rest of the time, either accumulating holiness or racking up “points” whether I understood or not. On my first such trip, it “sort of” worked. I learned, however, that an hour of Bible reading was more than I was accustomed (or able) to do. Going to church in Taiwan became an exercise in patient endurance. I told myself, “Once I learn the language, it’ll all be different.”

I learned Taiwanese. Now I understand most of what goes on during that hour of patient endurance. It is not a matter of the hymns, prayers or sermons being sub-standard… they’re about the same as those I experienced and endured in North America. There’s the rub. Church in Taiwan is like church back home. Only the language differs.

I persist because I’m a believer and I’ve been a churchgoer all my life. But I continue to hope for “church” in Taiwan to become “Taiwanese” in more than language. I expect to have to wait a LLLOOONNNGGG time.