This question surfaced in my mind as I read another believer’s writing. Almost simultaneously, I found myself asking the same question in moments of judgment: What kind of Christian are you? You may have had painful experiences in the church, or difficult relationships with other believers. But perhaps, in their eyes, they are wondering the same about you: What kind of Christian is he?

Over the past two years, I have stepped back from ministry service. In that time, amid the fracturing of American churches and the failures of leadership in Chinese congregations, a deep discouragement has settled over me. One consequence is that we now hesitate to connect, to fellowship, or even to share our needs in prayer. We look at one another and ask, What kind of Christian is he? And others might be asking exactly the same question about us.

Perhaps this is not something new at all. It may simply be an old plague that has followed Christians throughout history: something new in the age of AI and social media, yet something as old as the prophets’ condemnation of religious ritual without justice in the Old Testament. Something as old as Christendom itself—the idea that a nation, a culture, or a political order can become identified with Christianity.

Kierkegaard saw the danger clearly in his critique of Christendom: becoming Christian in name is not the same as becoming Christlike in life. And when leaders of a Christian nation, church, or movement become the public representatives of Christian belief, their lives inevitably become a visible measure—fairly or unfairly—of what Christianity appears to be.

In the pursuit of leadership, the drive to consolidate power and exert influence over fellow believers, political alignment can begin to seem unavoidable. But even if we gained influence like Charlie Kirk, or power like a president in the White House, politics would still divide us. Our views and votes turn into swords and arrows. Christ commands us to love one another, yet politics turns our communities into battlefields.

The venom behind our words, the toxic air of public discourse, shifts our focus from the heart to skin color, from repentance of the soul to debates over gender, from the common good to tax cuts. We find ourselves filled with polarized political opinions rather than the Word of God and the Holy Spirit.

Bonhoeffer warned the German church against a Christianity that could be claimed too cheaply. His own life ultimately testified that genuine discipleship can be costly. The question, then, is not simply whether we identify ourselves as Christians, but whether we are actually willing to follow Christ when following Him costs us something.

And the worst of all?

We put Bible verses on our lips and wear the appearance of saints, yet beneath that polished surface we may clothe ourselves in hatred and a smug, self-satisfied worldview, ready to strike back at anyone who does not look, think, or vote like us.

All of this can happen without a second thought, without even a flicker of unease over our double-standard lives.

We may publicly defend family values and religious liberty while privately worshipping nothing but money and shrugging off the responsibility to care for our own brothers and sisters. We may claim to defend liberty and freedom, while Christianity was historically used to justify slavery and racial hierarchy. Yet orthodox Christian theology also became an intellectual and spiritual source of abolition. The history itself exposes our contradiction: Christianity has been used both to sanctify injustice and to challenge it.

And the struggle has not disappeared. Skin color, race, class, and cultural identity still shape how easily we recognize the humanity of others. We anoint ourselves as fighters for human rights while sometimes operating with a racialized definition of who counts as fully human.

We call these contradictions dilemmas and paradoxes. But sometimes those words are simply too comfortable.

Sometimes what we are looking at is hypocrisy, dressed in Sunday clothes.

So I have to ask a deeper question:

Is Christianity an identity, or is it a way of life?

A person can possess Christian vocabulary, Christian political identity, Christian cultural identity, Christian moral slogans, and Christian biblical knowledge. Yet without the love of Christ, all of it can become only noise—a “clanging cymbal” and an “echoing drum”—the sound of Christianity without the life of Christ.

The danger is not that Christians have political convictions.

The danger is that political identity becomes a substitute for Christian discipleship.

So I come back to Isaiah—and to a very different kind of blessing for my Golden Age.

Not winning, winning, winning.

But:

“Woe is me! For I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips.”

What kind of Christian have I become?

By what I read, what I listen to, what I believe, what I defend—and what I am willing to overlook?

Perhaps this is where I need to begin again.

Whether I meet you on Substack, in a Facebook thread, beneath a YouTube video, or beside you on a Sunday morning, I don’t want to begin by asking what kind of Christian you are.

I want to look for Christ in you—in your eyes, your words, and your actions.

Not your politics. Not your tribe. Not your labels.

Christ.

And I hope you will look for Him in me.

Perhaps this is what Christian fellowship must recover: not finding the right kind of Christian, but learning to see Christ in one another.

What kind of Christian are you?

Perhaps I must keep asking myself.

During the past week, nearly every Chinese social media platform celebrated two Chinese mathematicians receiving the 2026 Fields Medal.

I celebrated too.

But something unexpected happened.

Instead of making me think about China’s rise, it made me think about leadership.

The discussion inside China was surprisingly different from Western media.

Western media:

China is rising.

Chinese discussion:

Would they have won if they had stayed in China?

The conversation revealed something much deeper than mathematics.

Then develop ideas like

• academic freedom

• individual creativity

• relationship between authority and innovation

• protection of original thought

What produces genius?

Not funding.

Not GDP.

Not laboratories.

But culture.

Here are some essentials that true leadership built upon:

• freedom

• trust

• humility

• respect for individual calling

• servant leadership

What kind of leader allows others to flourish?

This is where Scripture and leadership meet.

Those are the best reminders:

• Jesus never competed for power.

• Christ elevated the least.

• Authority exists to release gifts, not collect them.

• Great leaders produce successors.

• Kingdom leadership is stewardship rather than domination.

Laozi wrote that the best ruler is barely known by the people.

Jesus washed His disciples’ feet.

Both challenge the world’s obsession with visible power.

Yet Christ goes further.

He does not merely govern without force.

He gives Himself away.

The question is not whether China will become powerful enough to lead.

The question is whether any civilization can truly lead without learning how to cultivate freedom, truth, humility, and integrity.

The future of any civilization will depend not merely on economic or technological strength, but on whether it cultivates the moral and cultural soil in which truth, creativity, and human dignity can grow.

The Fields Medals were not simply a celebration of Chinese achievement.

They became an unexpected mirror.

They reminded us that great discoveries require more than brilliant minds.

They require a culture that allows truth to be pursued without fear, originality to be protected without jealousy, and leadership to exist for the flourishing of others.

That is true in mathematics.

It is true in science.

It is true in the Church.

And perhaps it is the first requirement for any nation that hopes to contribute to the future of humanity.

Another field of life science, a bad model of academic leadership

A 6-year-old girl died from a severe immune reaction after receiving an experimental gene-editing treatment in March 2025 at Shanghai's Xinhua Hospital, which is affiliated with the Shanghai Jiao Tong University School of Medicine. The tragedy was kept hidden for over a year until a joint investigation by Science and Retraction Watch exposed it. Following the public revelation, Shanghai Jiao Tong University launched a formal, comprehensive investigation into the lead researcher and the trial's ethical breaches. [1, 2, 3, 4,5]

I. 宇宙壮丽，チロ永生：一个时代的星空祝福

1998年，我在一家咨询公司工作，为蓝色巨人IBM的PC部门提供市场传播与媒体公共关系咨询服务。

我的老板曾是《三联生活周刊》的创刊元老之一。1998年他有机缘创办一本面向大众的科学文化杂志。中学时代饱读中国科普杂志的我，有幸作为他的创刊筹备组员前往北京白石桥，拜访著名的科普专家，中国科普研究所研究员李元先生。

在李先生的家中，我看到墙上挂着一幅非常特别的题字：

宇宙壮丽　チロ永生

题写者是日本《Newton》杂志的出版人，李先生的朋友。

当时的我，学习过日语，也深爱天文学，所以第一眼就被这幅字吸引。

它非常奇妙：

“宇宙壮丽”——是汉字，是东亚共同文化传统中的表达。

而“チロ”——突然转换为日文片假名。

它像是一句话，也像是一幅画，就像Jeff Walker拍摄的落基山脉上班夫雪峰上的银

河。

这副后来成了一个我直觉亲睹式的画面：日本的科学友人与李元先生，在星空银河之下。一起谈论永恒的苍穹，并用汉字书写给各自的读者。

用旅日学者日本关西大学沈国威教授提出的和制汉语一词，“チロ永生”或算得上是中日科学传播文化人之间在上世纪八十年代一个特殊“和制汉语”吧。

沈教授的研究显示：在1850年到1899年间，中国翻译的西学著作中，65%直接来自西方，只有15%来自日本。但到了1901年到1904年，情况发生了大逆转：来自西方的翻译下降到25%，而来自日本的翻译飙升至60%。更夸张的是，在1900年到1911年间出版的中小学理科教科书中，高达68.8%是直接从日语翻译过来的。在现代汉语最常用的双音节词汇中，有超过1500个形态借词（即我们说的和制汉语）是直接从日本借用的。

从今天热遍中国家长的儿童“绘本”，到我们已经以为常的核心概念，它们都是日本利用汉字翻译的西方重要文化概念。比如： “科学”（kagaku）、“电话”（denwa）、“卫生”（hygiene）、“自然”（nature）。以及西方政治学与社会学的概念： “革命”（revolution）、“经济”（economy）、“共和”（republic）、“民主”（democracy）、“社会”（society）、“自由”（freedom）、“文明”（civilization）

。其中一些词的含义的演化，经历了从中国文化的初义引申，又赐予西学的新义的例子，比如：

• 现象（Phenomenon）： 今天我们谈论科学和哲学时的“现象”，其实最初是佛教用语。在《西游记》等古籍中，“现象”指的是佛、菩萨显现真身（如“观世音现象三十有九”）。到了近代，日本哲学家西周（Xi Zhou）去荷兰留学后，借用这个佛教词汇来翻译西方哲学中与“本质（essence）”相对的“phenomenon”。

• 自由（Freedom）： 现代政治核心词汇“自由”，在古汉语中原本是指道家的“闲散舒适”或者佛教中“不受阻碍的开悟境界”（如《坛经》中的“去来自由”）。日本明治维新的翻译家们，用这个带有禅意的词去对译西方的“Liberty/Freedom”，赋予了它人权与宪政的新义，随后又回流中国。

• 卫生（Hygiene）： 源自《庄子》的“防卫其生”（保护生命），在19世纪被日本用来翻译西方的“Hygiene”（公共卫生、杀菌），随后清朝官员将这个被日本改造过的词带回了中国。

中国再次出发走向世界的八十年代，中国文化交流按照民国曾经的路径，迈出的第一步是日本！对如何面向公众普及科学知识，这一个科学与文化，社会与科技的重大工程，李元先生回忆，当时中国科普界曾认真讨论过引进日本《Newton》杂志的可能性。

中国最终没有简单复制日本模式，而是在吸收经验后，逐渐形成自己的科学传播杂志矩阵。《科学画报》《科学中国人》《科学与生活》《奥秘》《科幻世界》《天文爱好者》等刊物，成为改革开放后中国科学文化大众化的重要载体。

多年后，在加拿大班夫国家公园旅游期间，走进Jeff Walker的摄影商店，看见他印在铝板上的摄影，那个垂直的构图，我找到了“チロ永生”条幅最形象的视觉注释。

II. 15年后再访日本，后汉字文化圈的稳定影响让我深思

当我重新走在日本街头，我开始重新思考汉字、文明与未来。

2026年7月，在台风“巴威”移动的7月，与有史以来最炎热的西太平洋，我在东京南边的川崎短住了11天。

这是我继2011年至2012年两次访问日本之后，第三次来到这个国家。

这一次，我没有带着一个游客的问题而来。

我更多是在观察。

从横滨的地铁站，到街边商店的招牌；从便利店里的商品包装，到街上行人的日常交流；从城市空间的秩序，到伊豆高原的大室山、热海的Acao Forest，以及静冈县江之岛附近的自然景观——一种熟悉又陌生的感觉不断出现。

疫情已经离去5年，东京-川崎-横滨作为日本人口最集中的第一第二大城市，商业、零售、都市生活已经恢复了往日的活力。但贬值幅度高达30%的USDJPY，与霍尔木兹海峡的冲突输入的高油价，不断推高每一个日本人原本已经压缩到极致的生活成本。穿行在汉字、假名、大写假名、英文混用的商品广告，以及电车指示牌之间的，是疲惫辛苦的日本民众。我仿佛看到的，不是人群，而是走动的字，绝大部分已经散架，成为一群被压缩得极其单薄的偏旁部首。

我不知道他们的名字，但是我知道他们懂名字对于他们的重要性。不仅他们知道，从亚当给伊甸园的动物命名，到孔子说必正其名，到罗马人构造拉丁的专有名词来强调我们对事物的本体的认知，名字重要！而汉字是构图天地的象形纹刻，中日韩在千年的历史变迁中，虽然发明了自己的文字系统，但至今，汉字依旧是他们的深层语义的基石。汉字已经不再是他们各自的文化传播字符，却仍然作为一种“深层编码（deep coding）”塑造东亚人的思维、价值观、社会组织和文化情感。

这一“隐性语义层”与基督徒的领导力的底层价值观（Hidden Operating Systems）是何关系？我们今天的基督徒领导力除了外在的形式，它们是否在底层建立起与东亚文化的“概念网络”互动对话的信仰的内核？

甚至，结合今天的现实，基督徒领袖是在构建一个罗斯·金（Ross King）教授研究韩国现代的语言民族主义时指出的“同质化、排他性的群体（类似于语言纯洁主义的封闭圈子）”，还是在建立一个具有包容性的共同体？基督教信仰强调超越种族、阶层与语言界限的合一。基督徒领袖可以从这种“语言排他性”的焦虑中吸取教训，避免在组织内部形成隐性的“文化或术语壁垒”，致力于拥抱多元，关怀处于边缘位置的弱势群体。

从汉字到假名，回顾和制汉语的历史互动，结合科学文化的多维度交流，社会生活中的呼吸行走的个体，我陷入了深思。为什么一种已经不再是日本、韩国主要日常书写系统的文字，仍然如此深刻地存在、影响着它们的社会、文化和思想结构之中？

过去几十年，人们习惯从几个角度理解东亚：

经济奇迹；

工业化；

民族国家；

政治制度。

但是，如果我们只从这些角度观察，仍然无法解释一个现象：

为什么中国、日本、韩国，即使经历了战争、现代化、意识形态冲突和全球化，仍然共享大量深层概念？

看看这些词：

为什么：

天、道、德、仁、义、礼、文化、社会、文明、科学、经济、民主

这些词，虽然在不同国家拥有不同的历史经验，却仍然存在某种共同的语义基础？

这让我重新回到一个更古老的问题：

文字究竟只是记录语言的工具，还是塑造文明理解世界方式的媒介？

中国文明有一个非常独特的路径。

2026年中国社会科学院冯时先生关于天文考古、观象授时的研究，受到公众的追捧。他认为，中国早期政治秩序，甚至原始社会权力的形成，存在一个隐藏的线索：

在中国传统中，“文”从来不仅意味着书写。

它首先意味着：

秩序。

纹理。

规律。

《易经》中说：

“观乎天文，以察时变；观乎人文，以化成天下。”

天文，

地文，

人文，

最后成为文字。

文字记录的，不只是声音，而是一套关于天地、人和社会关系的理解方式。

但这并不是一个封闭的故事。

事实上，东亚文明最有意思的地方，恰恰在于：

它从来不是单向传播。

中国影响日本、韩国；

日本又重新创造现代科学、哲学、社会制度词汇，并将大量概念重新输入中国；

韩国、日本、台湾、大陆，又在现代化过程中分别选择、保留、扬弃和创造。

这不是一个简单的“中心—边缘”关系。

而更像一个持续循环的知识生态。

然而，一个问题也随之出现。

如果一种文明拥有如此深厚的历史、语言和文化资源，它是否就自然具有领导未来世界的能力？

答案显然不是。

文明的深度，并不自动产生文明的责任。

历史的连续性，也不自动带来道德的成熟。

一个社会真正的问题，不只是：

它拥有怎样的文字；

怎样的传统；

怎样的历史。

而是：

这些传统是否能够更新人的生命？是否能够培养具有责任感、独立判断能力、又彼此关怀的公民？

这也是为什么，我最终希望把这个讨论带入基督徒领导力的视角。

因为基督教传统提出了一个非常根本的问题：

人是什么？

人的尊严来自哪里？

权力最终服务于什么？

领导者为何存在？

如果说西方文明通过基督教传统、希腊哲学和罗马法律发展出关于个人尊严、契约、责任和公共参与的一套语言；

那么中国文明长期发展出的关于天、德、仁、礼、天下的思想，也提供了一套关于秩序、责任和人与世界关系的语言。

两者之间真正需要的，不是简单竞争。

而是对话。

日本牛顿杂志1981年的创刊号

按照Nanette Gottlieb对日本当代文字的研究，在她的著作Language and Society in Japan，Japanese Cybercultures， Language Policy in Japan中她指出：汉字、假名、罗马字、Emoji、视频，乃至AI，是今天我作为一个匆匆旅者直观所见的日本人的“文字生态”：Kanji、Kana、English、Emoji、Internet meme，以及丰富的日本当代流行文化，比如动漫、漫画、游戏空间共同组成的动态叙事符号空间。汉字已经不是唯一中心。在汉文字的独特的源流起始点，天文启示、地理滋润、人文传承之外，一个新的维度正在崛起。

今天，新的”文字”已经不仅存在于纸张和屏幕。它开始存在于算法、神经网络、向量空间（vector space）、大语言模型不断生成的语义关系之中。

新海诚在《你的名字》中，没有首先问：“你是谁？”

他问的是：你的名字是什么？

这并不是一个偶然的文学表达。

无论《创世记》中亚当为万物命名，孔子提出”必也正名乎”，还是东亚文化始终相信名字不仅指向一个对象，更揭示一个存在（being），”名字”始终意味着一种关系。

名字，使人能够被呼唤；

名字，使人与世界发生连接；

名字，也使文明得以延续自己的记忆。

或许，这个时代最大的挑战，已经不是AI是否能够写出我们的文字，而是，山川异域、风月同天，在星空之下，我们是否仍然记得自己的名字。

上图：英澳天文学家David Mailin造访北京古观象台（1999），并激动地用手指着他最熟悉的猎户座M42大星云

下图：北京古观象台台长陪同介绍古观象台上的明代天监司制天文仪器（1999）

上述图片刊登于1999年《Newton科学世界》杂志创刊号

从新宿到川崎，再到横滨，电车准时，街道洁净，人流安静得近乎无声。

我却不断浮现一个奇怪的感觉。

街上走着的，不像一个个完整的人，而像一群被拆散了的汉字。

脸孔依然是东亚人的脸孔。

衣着精致。

礼貌克制。

步伐快速。

然而，当人与人擦肩而过，最让我停留的，却是他们的眼睛。

那里面很少有一种中国书法里所说的”气”。

更多的是疲惫。

一种长期自我压抑后的安静。

一种被高度组织、却逐渐失去生命张力的安静。

我忽然想到一个奇怪的比喻。

他们像一个个汉字，却已经不再是完整的字。

更像偏旁。

像部首。

像可以无限组合，却已经失去中心意义的碎片。

这个念头，来自几天前重看宫崎骏的《千与千寻》。

电影里，白龙真正的名字叫”琥珀川”。

名字被夺走以后，他并没有立刻死亡。

他只是慢慢忘记自己是谁。

直到最后，千寻重新叫出那个名字。

他才重新找回自己。

东方文化对于”名字”一直有一种今天已经很少被理解的敬畏。

孔子说：

“必也正名乎。”

中国人相信，名不仅是称呼。

名连接着人的身份、责任、关系，甚至命运。

汉字因此不仅是记录声音的符号。

它本身就是意义。

“山”就是山。

“日”就是太阳。

“人”就是人。

一个字，本身就是一个完整的语义宇宙。

这与拼写文字很不一样。

拼写文字通常需要：

字母 → 发音 → 单词 → 意义。

而汉字更多是：

字形 → 意义 → 发音。

也许正因为如此，汉字能够超越语言本身。

两千多年过去，日本、韩国、越南虽然早已发展出各自的语言体系，却始终没有真正放弃汉字。

正式场合，人名、寺院、神社、企业商号、碑铭、书法、诗词……汉字依然保留着一种更高的文化地位。

它们像整个东亚文明共同保存的一座语义圣殿。

中国关于文字，还有一个古老的传说。

仓颉造字。

“天雨粟，鬼夜哭。”

无论是否相信这个故事，它至少说明一件事情。

古人并不认为文字只是工具。

文字曾经连接天地。

连接神人与历史。

甲骨文，本来就是祭祀与占卜的一部分。

文字最初进入世界的时候，不只是为了记录交易和账本。

而是为了回应一个更大的问题：

天地究竟意味着什么？

这里也许需要一个平衡的观察。

说到书法，人们很容易误以为，只有汉字才有书法。

其实并非如此。

从中世纪修道院抄写圣经，到犹太文士誊写《妥拉》，再到伊斯兰世界对阿拉伯书法的珍视，拼写文字同样拥有极其庄严而深厚的书写传统。

一位犹太文士抄写《妥拉》，往往需要数千小时。每一个字母、每一个间距、每一个笔画都必须准确无误。一旦发现严重错误，整卷经卷可能必须重新誊写。这里体现的不只是技艺，更是一种对启示、对圣言的敬畏。

欧洲中世纪修道院的抄经士也是如此。那些哥特体、安色尔体、卡洛林小写体，直到今天仍令人感受到一种秩序、宁静与虔诚。

对于他们而言，书写首先是一种敬拜，然后才是艺术。

这一点，与中国书法有着奇妙的相似。

然而，两种文明最终追求的重点，却似乎并不完全相同。

西方书写传统，更强调忠实、准确与传承。

文字承载的是已经启示的话语，因此抄写者尽可能隐藏自己，让自己的手服从文本。

而中国书法，则似乎更进一步，希望每一个字都”活起来”。

同样一个”人”字，王羲之写，与颜真卿写，与苏东坡写，与米芾写，都不仅仅是不同字体，更像不同生命气质的呈现。

中国书法谈骨。

谈肉。

谈筋。

谈血。

谈气。

最后谈神。

它仿佛相信，一个字不仅应该正确，更应该有生命。

每一次提按、转折、顿挫，都不仅是技巧，而是在追求一种与天地节律相呼应的气韵。

作为基督徒，我读《创世记》时，常会产生一种纯属文学性的联想。

上帝用尘土造人，又将生命之气吹入他的鼻孔，人就成了有灵的活人。

当然，中国书法并不是在重演《创世记》，两者属于不同的信仰传统。

然而，当一位书法家反复锤炼每一笔画，希望一个字能够”立得住”“站得稳”“有风骨”“有生气”时，那种努力赋予文字生命感的追求，却令人想到，人类文明似乎都曾试图在有限的材料中，回应那个共同的问题：

什么，才是真正活着？

后来，我开始想一个或许并不成熟的问题。

文字，会不会也塑造人格？

当然，我并不认为一种文字能够决定一个民族。

现代社会的问题，更多来自制度、资本、教育和工业文明。

但是，文字会不会像河床一样，慢慢影响一个文明思考世界的方式？

汉字把意义放在最前面。

拼写文字则把声音放在最前面。

汉字天然适合保存经典。

拼写文字天然适合快速传播。

一个强调历史连续性。

一个强调知识扩散。

没有高下之分，却可能塑造不同的文化气质。

日本没有放弃汉字。

也没有完全保留汉字。

它创造了假名。

一种极富创造力，也极具现实智慧的文明选择。

假名让语言更加自由。

更加大众化。

也让日本拥有了属于自己的文学、诗歌与审美。

然而，它也让我产生一个挥之不去的隐喻。

浅层假名假真名，
真名还需写汉字。
假名拼写普及易，
破碎个体失灵魂。

当然，这只是一个诗性的隐喻，而不是历史结论。

真正让人失去完整性的，并不是假名。

而是现代工业文明。

效率不断提高。

组织越来越精密。

人与人却越来越容易成为系统中的一个零件。

东京街头，那些沉默赶路的人，让我想到的不只是日本。

而是整个现代世界。

《希伯来书》评价以诺：

“以诺与神同行。”

这是圣经给予人的方向。

不是单纯效法自然。

也不是不断修炼自己。

而是人与神同行。

回头再看中国文明。

我却越来越愿意承认另一件事情。

儒家不断讲修身。

道家不断讲法自然。

书法不断讲气韵。

这些并不能等同于福音。

却可能属于上帝普遍恩典的一部分。

在人类尚未认识基督以前，这个古老文明仍然努力抬头望向天地，寻找秩序、德性与生命的意义。

也正因此，书法不仅是一门艺术，更像一种生命操练。

它让人的身体、呼吸、心志与时间重新合而为一。

这一点，与基督徒每日祷告、默想、安静、读经，在人格塑造上竟有某种遥远而耐人寻味的呼应。

它们并不相同。

却都提醒人，不要活成一个破碎的人。

离开东京的时候，我脑海里始终停留着那个画面。

街上，无数匆忙的人。

如果他们只是偏旁部首，那么，真正完整的那个”人”在哪里？

也许，一个文明真正需要重新寻找的，不只是它的名字。

而是它的灵魂。

真正的问题，也许不是我们还能不能写出一个”人”字。

而是今天的我们，还能不能活成一个有骨、有气、有神的人。

Perhaps it was because everywhere I looked I saw a unique blend of Kanji, Kana, and English words written in the Latin alphabet. Three writing systems, each carrying meaning in a different way, yet living together in remarkable harmony.

That experience led me to wonder: among the thousands of languages spoken around the world, what language would God use in His playbook?

Imagine that God keeps a book for every human being—a unique record of each person’s life, thoughts, work, joys, struggles, and calling. In the archives of heaven, what language would those books be written in? Would they be composed of logographic characters like Chinese, where meaning is embedded in the character itself? Or would they be written in alphabetic languages such as Latin, English, or the languages of Europe, where meaning unfolds through the orderly arrangement of letters? Or perhaps, like Japan itself, would God’s language be a harmonious blend of both?

The question is about far more than language. It is ultimately a question about the nature of God, the nature of humanity, and how divine truth is expressed—not only through words, but also through lives that are lived.

Alphabetic writing emphasizes precision, logic, and analytical reasoning. Logographic writing, especially Chinese characters, invites intuition, intrinsic meaning, and a mindful sense of flow. One speaks to the intellect; the other speaks to perception.

To ask this question is, in a sense, to ask whether God is rational or emotional.

Perhaps the answer is that God is both.

God speaks through reason and through intuition, through order and through beauty, through logic and through meaning. Divine wisdom is not confined to a single mode of expression. It encompasses both the analytical clarity of alphabetic thought and the holistic depth of calligraphic thought.

A screenplay is not a film.

The script defines the story, the structure, the purpose, and the direction. Without it, the production loses coherence. The actors, the crew, and even the director would have no common narrative to follow.

Yet a screenplay is never the film itself.

A gifted director intentionally leaves room for the actors—not to rewrite the story, but to embody it. Every gesture, every pause, every expression, every moment of silence carries something that cannot be fully written on paper. The script provides the framework; the performance breathes life into it.

Perhaps God’s playbook for humanity is like this.

God has a script—not as a rigid mechanical program, but as a purposeful design. It establishes the essential structure of creation, redemption, justice, mercy, and love. It gives history its direction and humanity its calling.

But God also leaves space.

Within His sovereign purpose, He grants each person the freedom to live, respond, create, love, repent, rejoice, and suffer. The most profound parts of life are not dictated word for word. They are lived.

Words and sentences can describe a life, but they cannot become the life itself.

Just as a screenplay reaches its fulfillment only when actors step onto the stage and inhabit their roles, God’s written Word reaches into human history through lives that faithfully embody it. The unwritten moments—the spontaneous acts of courage, compassion, sacrifice, forgiveness, creativity, and worship—are not outside God’s story. They are where His story becomes visible.

Perhaps this also sheds light on the nature of language itself.

Alphabetic languages resemble the screenplay: precise, sequential, analytical, and explicit. Chinese calligraphy resembles the performance: holistic, intuitive, expressive, where meaning flows not only through words but also through form, rhythm, movement, and presence.

God is neither merely rational nor merely emotional. He is the Author who writes the script, the Director who guides the production, and the Giver of life who enables the actors to perform authentically. His truth is revealed not only in what is written, but also in what is lived.

The Bible is not merely a script to be read. It is a story to be embodied. The final testimony is not ink on paper, but lives transformed by the Spirit of God.

One theological nuance I’d add is that, from a Christian perspective, God is not merely the Author and Director. In the incarnation, He also entered the stage. Jesus Christ did not simply tell humanity how the story should unfold—He became an actor within history, while remaining its Author. That paradox is perhaps the most distinctive feature of the Christian understanding of God’s “playbook”: the Author writes Himself into His own story so that the actors may learn not only by instruction, but by imitation.

In the interview, Deace offers a profound framework for navigating the chaos of information, specifically regarding epistemology:

11:01-11:33, “And let’s let’s look at epistemology or the the study of knowledge and what we believe to be true as a giant boardroom table right And there’s a lot of different seats at that table Philosophy is at that table Medicine’s at that table Uh the v various other scientific pursuits are at that table Literature is at that table All the things that go into what makes good true and beautiful But something’s got to sit at the head of the table right What sits at the head of the table The word of God does. And all of the other chairs in that boardroom have to submit to who sits there in the chairman of the board position And that’s the word of God”

For the independent mind—one steeped in history, critical of the mechanics of post-modern power, and wary of how industrial-scale media and social algorithms facilitate collective hypnosis—the UFO mania of the 1980s and the UAP "disclosure" movement of 2026 probably are two acts of the same long-running play. Please do not get messed for this arbitrary claim, continue read why.

Since, if you look at our media consumption bill or shopping list, you might realize that, to the industry, the script has not changed: it remains an attempt to capture the collective unconscious for the benefit of an elite interest group. Whether it was the wide-eyed wonder of the Spielbergian 80s or the calculated, pseudo-official leaks of 2026, the goal is to frame "external intelligence" as a secular Savior, effectively displacing traditional faith with a new, state-sanctioned mysticism.

To most Physicist, or professionals in the material science, this "disclosure" is, in every sense, an irresponsible, ahistorical, and entertainment-driven performance. Lacking substantive material evidence (why the the accident or relics always retrieved in remote area) or credible testimony as the Entity-17, it functions as the quintessential psychological operation (PsyOp).

We must realize that the "secret keepers" and the "whistleblowing liberators"—those who claim that secrecy is a crime against the public while framing "disclosure" as a noble act of national responsibility—are, in fact, the same elite circle. They control the narrative from both sides of the curtain, ensuring the public remains trapped in a state of perpetually distracted wonder.

Back to the CBN interview in the beginning, Steve Deace underscored the absurdity of this current moment by sharing his own attempt to apply cold, hard logic to the myth-making. He recounted a conversation he had with Grock AI, testing the statistical probability of the government’s alien narrative:

“And I just inputed I just imported all this knowledge all the theories of science the Kepler principle the theory of relativity all that kind of stuff into Grock And I said ‘Now give me the odds that since Roswell in 1947 a given every given all that scientific information what are the odds that since 1947 uh we have been getting visited by extraterrestrials and the craft and the and the pilots have never crashed or done anything to be uh depicted or to be um you know discovered uh by the public at large... What are the odds of this And Grock came back and ran the math and told me that this was lit the literal answer The same odds that I would die this year by vending machine That is what Grock told me”

The absurdity of the result—that the probability of our government successfully hiding alien civilizations since 1947 is equivalent to the odds of being killed by a vending machine—drew a rare, knowing laugh from the CBN host. It serves as a reminder: when the math and the “science” of the state are held accountable to reality, the grand narrative of disclosure collapses, leaving behind nothing but the familiar, cynical structure of a well-executed distraction.

I went to watched the film in cinema last night with wife, and in the 300 seats hall at the urban centre of Kun Ming, China, there is only two of us. It surprised me for how worse is the economy, but fortunately, most Chinese audience seems not interested in this covered PsyOp entirely.

There may have been corruption behind some of those projects, as critics often point out. But the highways were real, accessible, and public—used daily by ordinary people, not privately owned, not gated, not global-capital enclaves. Whatever else one thinks of China’s development model, the roads were there.

Five years later, at the end of 2025, I decided to drive again.

This time, the purpose was different.

After two years living overseas in Canada, I wanted to observe China again—not through statistics, videos, or news feeds, but at the micro level of everyday life. I wanted to see how people were living, moving, coping, and hoping. I also had a practical motive: preparing a possible long-term home base for my family in Yunnan, as my wife—recently retired—was considering settling down in the coming years.

On the Road Again

We drove our Nissan SUV from Beijing toward Yunnan. Along the way, we planned to meet our daughter in Chongqing, where she flew in from Hangzhou. After nine months of separation, the twenty days we had together felt especially precious.

Before Chongqing, our daughter had been in Hangzhou for a cosplay trade show—an event that attracts millions of Gen-Z participants. In recent years, the show moved from Shanghai to Hangzhou to keep a lower political profile. Japanese pop culture remains popular among Chinese youth, but its visibility is increasingly sensitive.

I was the sole driver and decided to follow almost the same route I had taken in 2020—except this time, instead of Henan, I went through Shaanxi. Despite living in Beijing for over thirty years, I had never properly traveled through Shaanxi. Air quality concerns had always discouraged me.

A Night in Shanxi: The Cross on the Hill

We planned to reach Xi’an by nightfall, but frequent 80 km/h speed limits at the Shanxi provincial boundary slowed us down. After an unexpectedly excellent and affordable lamb dinner in northern Taiyuan, we continued driving late into the night.

There were no highway lights. The air was heavy. We lowered the windows for fresh air and instead encountered a mix of chemical odors—fermented industrial byproducts, sour smells drifting from towns along the road, vinegar production facilities, coal dust. The night felt thick and breathless.

Then suddenly, as we passed through a hill, a bright light appeared.

At the top of the hill stood a glowing cross, shining boldly into the darkness, clearly visible from the highway.

I was stunned.

In recent years, crosses had been removed from churches in cities like Wenzhou and Taiyuan. Yet here, in the middle of the night, on a barren hill, a cross stood illuminated—defiant, unmistakable.

We checked the map. It was a Catholic church, built more than 120 years ago by missionary priests. The hill was called Seven Suffering Hill.

Geography, History, and Hu’s Line

Much of our route closely followed Hu Huanyong’s Line, the famous demographic boundary discovered by the Chinese geographer in 1935. From Mohe in Heilongjiang to Tengchong in Yunnan, this line separates China into two vastly unequal halves: 96% of the population lives on the eastern side.

It is also a civilizational line:

• 400–800 mm precipitation boundary

• Rice vs. wheat cultivation

• Yellow River vs. Yangtze and Pearl River civilizations

Remarkably, this population ratio has remained largely unchanged even after four decades of Reform and Opening.

Only by driving can one truly feel these transitions—changes in landscape, agriculture, dialect, customs, and temperament unfolding hour by hour.

Xi’an may be the only mega-city—over 15 million people—located west of this iron line.

Beijing: A Capital Growing Older

Returning to Beijing after two years abroad was unsettling.

The city felt quiet—visibly older. On buses and subways during the day, elderly faces dominated. Libraries were full, but the readers were mostly unemployed or underemployed young professionals.

Streets and public spaces felt emptier than before, reminiscent of Beijing thirty years ago. The city seemed to be retreating into its core political and cultural functions. Private businesses had withdrawn; state-owned entities were once again everywhere.

At a massive shopping mall near my home—one and a half kilometers from end to end—I saw few customers. Retired couples rested under indoor greenery with grandchildren. Young couples celebrated birthdays by silently taking photos and posting on social media, barely speaking to each other.

Gen-Z socializing, I was told, often looks like this: gathering, gaming on phones, drinking quietly, then leaving—no laughter, no hugs.

Anxiety Without Headlines

Reality alone does not tell the full economic story. But anxiety does.

On Xiaohongshu (XHS), one of the few major platforms with relatively looser content control, posts about unemployment dominate. Millions of graduates and laid-off professionals have left Beijing, searching for opportunity, freedom, and self-expression elsewhere.

In contrast, comedy is booming in Xi’an. Friends shared videos of weekend street performances—young people playing in bands, crowds gathering naturally. Such scenes are almost impossible in Beijing now.

Beijing functions. Other cities breathe.

Linfen, Steel, and Missionary Blood

Our first stop was Linfen.

Recently, a pastor leading a church of more than 1,500 members there had been arrested and tried under the familiar charge of “illegal business operations”—a standard legal tool used against non-state-sanctioned churches.

I have church connections in Linfen, but our stay was unplanned, and by the time we checked in, it was nearly 10 p.m. I chose not to visit.

Even in a good hotel, the smell of coal dust was inescapable. Our dinner restaurant was near Taiyuan Steel Group—whose products support China’s aerospace and rocket industries.

Shanxi is the cradle of Chinese civilization. Thousands of years ago, it was likely covered in forests. Were they all cut down for wars, palaces, temples—leaving barren land to descendants?

Yet this same land was chosen by missionaries 150 years ago. Along the Yellow River’s winding course, more than thirty mission stations were built. When persecution erupted in 1900, Shaanxi became the province where the most missionaries were killed.

Xi’an: Comedy as Collective Therapy

In Xi’an, we met Pastor Yuan, who began serving God after earning a master’s degree in drama from the Beijing Film Academy in 2007. We stayed at a church planted by our Beijing congregation in 2019. It now has three locations and more than 150 committed members—mostly middle-class families with children.

Xi’an’s traffic is nearly paralyzed during peak times, struggling to absorb an additional four million residents and three million cars in just five years. Yet people are patient and courteous. Governance, not attitude, lags behind.

On Saturday evening, I drove over an hour to cover 20 kilometers—just to attend a comedy talk show. All 350 seats were sold out. My wife and I sat among young people our daughter’s age.

For two hours, I witnessed something rare in today’s China: collective speech therapy.

In a society where posts, comments, and emotions are tightly filtered, comedy becomes a safe outlet. These performers—many likely STEM graduates, engineers, doctors, or researchers—carry immense pressure. Xi’an is a major defense R&D hub; Chongqing manufactures what Xi’an designs.

They joked. The audience laughed. And for a moment, people spoke freely—together.

Chongqing and the Weight of Scale

I did not include Chengdu this time, but Chongqing was unavoidable—and overwhelming.

Once known primarily as an inland industrial city, Chongqing now surpasses Shanghai in scale, density, and intensity. It does not persuade you; it overwhelms you.

Here, amid concrete mountains and glowing skylines, we reunited as a family.

As the city surged upward, our family quietly dispersed outward.

A Daughter’s Path

My daughter, Evangeline, received a job offer from a Japanese electronics company in March 2025. Last year, she was in Japan; I was in Sudbury; my wife was mostly in Beijing. It was a difficult year.

Her first job, as a sales associate in a branch store, demanded obedience rather than critical thinking. Her younger team leader valued loyalty over education. Independence created friction.

She left.

She later joined a digital product data-cleansing company in the tech sector—where her education and dignity were restored.

During her lowest months, alone in a foreign city, even with fluent Japanese and Korean, her only safe and trusted space was her church.

Would she return to China? She wants to. But reports—accurate or not—of 50% youth unemployment weigh heavily. Xi’an, Chongqing, and Chengdu are dynamic, yes—but only in select industries.

China is rebalancing. Populations move west. Hu’s Line may finally be tested.

In my youth, after the collapse of the Soviet Union, Go West by the Pet Shop Boys echoed my dreams of the oceanic world. Now history mirrors itself.

Will Gen-Z embrace a re-scripted “China Dream”?

I don’t know.

But on this road—through comedy, concrete, and a cross in the night—I learned where the questions now live.

And that, perhaps, is enough for one journey.

Disclaimer, all numbers quoted and used are all un-checked but heard from conversation.

Cole’s primary leadership philosophy is framed through the metaphor of software upgrades:

• Church 1.0: The early New Testament church—organic, relational, and viral.

• Church 2.0: The institutionalized model (post-300 AD), characterized by physical buildings, professional clergy, and program-driven growth.

• Church 3.0: A return to organic roots, leveraging decentralized networks and simple, reproducible structures to thrive in a postmodern, globalized world.

This is not nostalgia for a primitive past, but a functional diagnosis: institutions optimize for stability, while movements optimize for life and multiplication.

The book’s leadership focus centers on several unconventional—and often unsettling—concepts:

• The “Disposable Leader”: Cole contends that the ultimate success of a leader is not measured by longevity or visibility, but by how effectively they equip others to the point of becoming unnecessary to the group’s survival. Leadership, in this sense, includes an intentional exit strategy.

• Lowering the Bar, Raising the Standard: Cole argues for lowering the bar of how church is “done” so that any believer can lead a gathering, while simultaneously raising the bar of what it means to be a disciple. This flattens hierarchy and removes the “big shots” who often become bottlenecks to multiplication.

• Decentralized Authority: He rejects top-down denominational or mega-church models in favor of all-channel networks with no single controlling center. Notably, Cole suggests that heresy is more often birthed by charismatic, centralized leaders than by ordinary believers reading Scripture together in community.

• From “Rancher” to “Shepherd”: Cole critiques the industrial, mass-production model of discipleship and calls for a return to intimate, relational shepherding—often in groups of two or three—where transformation, not attendance, is the metric.

Critics often note that Cole’s model can appear to devalue the office of the pastor and the historic role of the gathered local church. Yet this critique may miss his deeper intent. Cole does not abolish leadership; he redefines it. For those seeking a Jesus-shaped leadership that is humble, hidden, and catalytic rather than platform-driven, Church 3.0 remains a foundational text for the missional and organic church movements well into 2025.

What ultimately elevates Church 3.0 beyond theory, however, is its lived aftermath in China. I first encountered this book through friends connected to the Zion Church network, at a moment of profound rupture. In 2018, when Zion’s main congregation location was forcibly shut down by the government, Ezra Jin wrote on WeChat that Neil Cole had, in effect, “prophesied the future of the church.” That reflection was posted in the very month the closure occurred. What followed was not retreat, but multiplication. Zion began to practice what Cole described: decentralized leadership, organic gatherings, and nationwide church planting that continued even through the pandemic lockdowns of 2019–2021. The Chinese edition I read—translated and published by a Hong Kong–based press—still carries the linguistic fingerprints of HK Chinese, with visible traces of English syntax and restrained editorial style. Yet perhaps that liminality allowed the book to arrive at precisely the right time. In a context where hierarchy invites suppression and institutions invite control, Cole’s vision of a non-hierarchical, anti-institutional, organic church proved not only viable but resilient. In hindsight, Church 3.0 did not merely imagine a future possibility; it quietly equipped a persecuted church to survive, adapt, and multiply—first in China, and perhaps increasingly, far beyond it.

The online sales link of the HK translation link

Neil’s speech at DTS

在客厅沙发上倒着，刷到贝多芬的《月光》，那音符、舒缓，像从远处慢慢穿过林间的小径传来。又像一颗不能止息跳动的心，感受着时代的孤寂与忧伤，他的时代，或者所有时代的同一心灵频率。它使我重新有打字、书写的冲动。

而这种无人阅读的心情手记，似乎是从博客时代开始兴起，在社交媒体时代消弭。在所有人都可以发声的时代，虚假、煽动的声音却传得更快、更远，激发更多的共振的年代，各种圈层里，审查也如影随形。审查与语言暴行到底是谁催生了谁？坦率说并不容易回答，但是他们合力摧毁了属于文学的心灵家园。使写者难以找到可写的，因为无论你写什么，都没有人看。或者今天我需要只为如此时的一刻，空空如亦的心情来敲敲键盘——明明2025年不是1995年，我暗笑：谁还会为键盘而觉得肩膀、颈椎、四五腰椎，在紧张工作、漫长的通勤之后，还能激起任何的吸引力。

Ivan Didovokiuk的这一幅黑白画，是画还是照片？如果是照片，似乎天水相接的地方太干净了，不应该有一些模糊的水汽吗？2025年从初春的五月，到秋天的九月，我都在多伦多的Scarborough悬崖公园，远远瞭望着安大略湖海天一色的天际线。作为旅人，我心里吟唱着阿浅写的一首歌词：

客从远方来，闲坐樱树下

门前清溪水，月无瑕

落花酒一杯，远客去复回

可曾经过我家乡，可曾看见风卷白云入青山，听见悠远号角吹响

梦里泉水叮咚在耳畔，羊群热闹苍天寒

天风过城墙，墙外樱花香

摘下一朵戴鬓角上

策马到海边，寂寞水三千，可曾问有白帆

乘风破浪来自天际，带来流落他乡人儿的消息

春天燕双飞秋天落雨，盼一年等一年，相思对谁言

我曾决意要用英文多尝试写作，为简体中文被毁而心有戚戚。但是真在异乡，在另外一个语言、文化、社会系统里，一个身份即政治，一个身份即存在的当代加拿大，中国、中文，又有谁在乎你心有戚戚，即便你英文写得再好，谁又有兴趣来读你写的东西呢？你的孤独、痛苦、记忆，无论你走多远，在美国、英国、加拿大，还是澳大利亚，甚至德国、西班牙、意大利、爱尔兰…，难道想阅读和寻求echo的，不还是你的同类、同族、同文、和那称为mandarin的乡谈吗？

无论原因为何，加拿大两年的时间，几乎没有一天能进入一种放松的写作状态。心更像一只漂着的船，虽然靠在岸边却没有锚定。也许，只有在家中，在完全不被事务驱动的时刻，在月光的慢板中，在巴赫向上仰望的音阶指向的空灵塔尖，没有任何具体厌恶、创伤，或者创伤应激反应的心能安静，并写下一篇不需要读者的文字，留给空旷的夜，留给从未来向这里回望的自己。

今天翻阅2012年「找到啦」（一家中国的基督徒出版公司）出版的基督徒CEO的短笺一类的一个文集。写下它们的人或许是在更早的2010年写下。

2011年我曾有机会前往CBN总部参加福音宣教的一个研讨会。彼时的美国，从2008年的金融危机中正在走出，虽然遭受重创，但是依旧强大。早晨Virginia Beach我从Regent University的酒店房间望出去，树枝、草地仿佛带着淡淡的金色。在离开的那个下午，报佳音书店的董事长Gary陪我去市中心的Apple Store买了一个iPad。我们在路上聊了不少美国的经济症结，比如正在失控的财政赤字。

所以，2011年的美国，对于我而言就是如此的感性和直观。但翻阅着这本书，思想着里面的领导力分享，我还是不有的感慨——为什么今天我们在这里？那10年前，写书的人是否预见？书里有多少人还在热心于福音，有多少人已经违背了他们曾经所追求的基督里的美德？

无论如何，我感谢时间，是它使我可以收集一些美好的记忆，即便有些只是碎片。但是，有一些则是闭上眼睛就在心底浮现的，比如我的飘窗在月夜的晚上。即便不是十五的月亮，但是上帝为我存着一份如银的清凉与澄澈，它使我随时可以亲近主的神秘园。

One of the most debated topics was business partnership:
Should Christian business owners hire only believers as managers or staff? Taking it a step further, would you consider partnering with non-believers as investors or shareholders?

In my early years as a startup founder, this verse immediately stood out to me:

“Do not be yoked together with those who do not believe.” (2 Corinthians 6:14)

I am sure many believers in the marketplace are quite familiar with this New Testament teaching from Paul. But should we apply it directly to the situations mentioned above? If we unfortunately run into legal disputes with business partners, would that be a consequence of not following Paul’s teaching?

Reading the MSG version is striking:

How can you make a partnership out of right and wrong? That’s not partnership; that’s war. Is light best friends with dark? Does Christ go strolling with the Devil? Do trust and mistrust hold hands? Who would think of setting up pagan idols in God’s holy Temple? But that is exactly what we are, each of us a temple in whom God lives. God himself put it this way: “I’ll live in them, move into them; I’ll be their God and they’ll be my people. So leave the corruption and compromise; leave it for good,” says God. “Don’t link up with those who will pollute you. I want you all for myself. I’ll be a Father to you; and you’ll be sons and daughters to me.”
— The Word of the Master, God

If taken strictly, this could suggest that only believers should be business partners, and that teams should consist entirely of Christian brothers and sisters.

However, Brother Jimmy Pak deepened the discussion. He pointed out that even among Christians, levels of spiritual maturity differ. He shared his own experience: in his first company, he partnered with fellow believers without a clear written charter. In his second company, however, he drafted a formal covenant—a written statement reminding each board member that the company ultimately belongs to God, and that they are merely stewards. As such, the company must exhibit fairness, justice, and prudent operation.

In an FDE fellowship video episode produced by Henry Kaestner and J.D. Greear, the featured company is NIKA, a waste-management firm that helps businesses and cities reduce waste while transforming it into commercially valuable materials—creating positive ESG outcomes.

Although social, political, and economic conditions vary greatly—from South Africa to China—the principles emerging from this debate are highly relevant. Business is one of the most effective platforms in our era, creating tremendous space for Christians to work alongside non-believers while still walking faithfully with God.

Whether we work with Christians or non-Christians, we are called to live out justice, fairness, and love. As stewards, our ultimate loyalty is to the Lord. Becoming more and more like Jesus through the life He gives us is the greatest reward—and truly the only reward we hope for.

Can you give a share of your company to God? Could that be a way to relieve the burdens of management and operation?

Click the link to watch the video, and don’t forget to share your thoughts here. Thank you!

#FaithDrivenEntrepreneur
#FaithDrivenInvestment

我们说我们当谨慎和警醒的是时候，我们却一转眼就会为处境所逼，而心焦气躁。

神啊，求你使我们不是照着世界的样式来是行为人。

使我们心中有静气，因为你在我们身边。

你是我们的帮助、保护，是我们的眼光当寻求的面。是我们的心当时刻留意的权柄。

在你的手中陶造我们，因为我们是你的孩子。

劳伦斯弟兄（Brother Lawrence）简介

劳伦斯弟兄（1614–1691），原名尼古拉斯·赫尔曼（Nicolas Herman），是17世纪法国加尔默罗会的一位修士。他以极其普通的身份进入修道院，终生从事厨房与修补鞋子的日常劳作，但他在平凡事物中活出的信仰深度却影响了整个基督教灵修传统。

他最为人称道的是他简朴而深刻的“在神面前操练同在”的灵修实践（Practice of the Presence of God）。他相信：人与神的关系不在于外在的仪式或繁复的祷告辞，而在于在每一件微小的日常事情中——洗碗、煮饭、搬运物品、与人交谈——不断回到神的同在里，让心保持安静、谦卑、爱神的姿态。

劳伦斯弟兄留下的思想并非出自他主动写作，而是由他的书信与与人谈话的记录整理而成。三百多年来，《与神同在的操练》成为许多信徒、神学家和灵性生活者的必读经典。他的生命提醒我们：成圣之路并不在远方，而是在那些最普通、最熟悉的日常片刻中学习爱神、爱人。

本期音频提到的7项操练

1. 在平凡中寻求神
原则： 每一件事，无论多么微小，都可以为爱神而做。

经文： “所以，你们或吃或喝，无论做什么，都要为荣耀神而行。” ——《哥林多前书》10:31

默想： 在修道院的厨房里，劳伦斯弟兄发现神与他同在，就像在祷告中一样亲近。对信徒来说，神圣与世俗之间并不存在真正的分界。

操练： 在开始每一项任务时——洗碗、回复邮件、做决定——先祷告：
“主啊，我为爱你而做。”

2. 持续不断地把心转向神
原则： 让心灵温柔而不断地转向神。

经文： “不住地祷告。” ——《帖撒罗尼迦前书》5:17

默想： 这不是指冗长正式的祷告，而是一种持续觉察神同在的习惯。当分心时，温柔地回到祂面前，不必内疚。

操练： 一天中不断给予神“小小的心灵一瞥”……轻声呼唤祂的名字，呼吸一节诗篇的经文，在祂的临在中安息。

3. 选择简朴，而非复杂
原则： 不要把祷告弄得过于复杂。简单的爱最为宝贵。

经文： “你们祷告，不可像外邦人用许多重复话……因为你们所需用的，你们的父早已知道了。” ——《马太福音》6:7–8

默想： 过度繁复的祷告反而令人分心。简单、像孩子般的对话最蒙神喜悦。

操练： 用短而真诚的祷告：
“主，我是属于你的。”
“谢谢你，主耶稣。”
“求你此刻亲近我。”

4. 信靠祂的恩典，胜过自己的力量
原则： 信赖神的怜悯，不依靠自己的刚强。

经文： “所以，我们只管坦然无惧地来到施恩的宝座前。” ——《希伯来书》4:16

默想： 罪疚和沮丧只会让人与神疏远；恩典却使人重新靠近祂。

操练： 当你跌倒时，停下来简单地承认：
“主啊，没有你我会跌倒；有你，我能站起。”
然后让你下沉心再次向祂昂扬。

5. 让爱成为一切的衡量
原则： 爱神远胜于非凡的成就或神秘的异象。

经文： “在这一切之外，要存着爱心，爱心就是联络全德的。” ——《歌罗西书》3:14

默想： 爱使最微小的行为获得永恒的意义。

操练： 在每一个行动之前，先问自己：
“我这样做，是出于爱吗？”
让爱，而不是结果，成为你的真正尺度。

6. 在祂的同在中喜乐
原则： 神的临近是持续不断的平安与喜乐之源。

经文： “在你面前有满足的喜乐。” ——《诗篇》16:11

默想： 劳伦斯弟兄说，他的生活彷佛已经在天堂里一样，因着神的同在而喜乐。

操练： 每天晚上，回想几件你今天经历神同在的小事——并向祂献上感谢。

7. 在软弱中操练，而非追求完美
原则： 在神同在中的成长是渐进的，而非一蹴而就。

经文： “我的恩典够你用的，因为我的能力是在人的软弱上显得完全。” ——《哥林多后书》12:9

默想： 要坚持，不要灰心。操练久了，就会变得自然，如同呼吸一般。

操练： 抓住一个简单的习惯——例如每次走进会议室时祷告一句短祷，或在用餐前默念一节经文——让以马内利在你的里面自然成长。

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Most answers mentioned diversity. But no one spoke about the unity behind that diversity.

In material science, doping is a normal laboratory practice: we add different additions—elements, compounds—into a given crystal, hoping to create a new material with a unique physical, chemical, or electrical property, to make the existing material better, more superior.

Immigration is almost like a national, cultural, racial doping social experiment—can we say that? (Here, I hope there is no offending.) If the structure of the base crystal—the fundamental structure—gets lost or untied, the doping might leave deformation, or even cause the entire feature to collapse. So, in addition to diversity, I urge for unity—the unity that actually holds the fundamental nature of the social structure together.

But what is that unity?

Christ is the unity, without any doubt.

But what is the unity? Christ is the unity without any doubt.

for through him God created everything

in the heavenly realms and on earth.

He made the things we can see

and the things we can’t see—

such as thrones, kingdoms, rulers, and authorities in the unseen world.

Everything was created through him and for him.

He existed before anything else,

and he holds all creation together.

(Colossians 1:16-17 NLT)

He can, and only He can, hold all things—all creation, all nations, all races, all colors of skin—and even bridge the open chasms of culture, tradition, religious belief, harm, wrongdoing, and the crimes one group committed against another in the past. He crosses all of these, and He is the glue that binds us.

I am deeply intrigued by location and geography, so I often ask myself: Where is “here”? I know how determinative geography is in shaping a country and its people. Canada, in many ways, is like Dongbei, the three Northeastern provinces of China, compared to the rest of the country—similar in climate, weather, natural resources, population, and also in the underdevelopment of business, technology, and innovation.

Canada lies behind the U.S., yet Canadians call themselves Canadian instead of American. The integration with their neighbor—in trade, energy, natural resources, capital investment—is so high that Americans might look at Canada the same way many Chinese look at the three Northeastern provinces: Heilongjiang, Liaoning, Jilin.

Yet to many immigrants from other parts of the world, Canada reflects the radiance of the United States. Toronto’s skyscrapers at night resemble the glamour of NYC. But Canadians take pride in their big government, while Americans hate the idea of government handling everything.

Just share a brief reflection, I will continue to write my thinking, experiencing, observation in following post. Hope this trigger our conversation and discussion.

Blessings,

Qiang

和邵岩父女在Sudbury Calvin Presbyterian Church（2024.5）

我第一次见到他是在学校教室，因为我在抵达Sudbury之前，他帮助我代收了快递。后来，我们在教会每周都见面。在2024年5月，Sudbury有一场在拉姆西湖里的“The Plunge”受洗活动。那天他在湖里受洗、当众宣告接受了耶稣基督为自己的主和救主。

之后的2024一整年，我忙MBA的课程，他忙CS计算机科学硕士课程。但是每一个周日，他和女儿Nancy都没有一次缺席的。

我们一起参加了很多活动的，比如长老会教会Wes Hubert弟兄郊区的度假小屋，夏天的烤香肠，冬天的冰钓。这一对父女，以及假期来与他们团聚的妈妈，成为我们在劳伦森，周日去教会的留学生的又一个家庭。

Nancy和爸爸参与教会圣礼

毕业后，当他讲述他的在线服务的产品创意的时候，我能看到他的产品经理的敏锐与细致。在加拿大是否有机会？我看机会渺茫。但是回顾走过的路，什么年代看未来，有信心和定力的人总能使事情从梦想成为现实。我盼望他因着从基督而来的智慧与能力，创业成功。

上个月，邵岩的父亲突然病重，他匆忙赶回北京。

20天后，他从北京回来，我听他讲了不可思议的奇迹，他的父亲让医生都感到惊讶的病情好转，只有他与上帝知道，这一奇迹与上帝对他祷告祈求有多深的关系。

2025年1月在Wes Hubert弟兄的郊区度假小屋

2024年7月还是在Wes Hubert弟兄的度假小区庆祝Canada Day

我非常羡慕刚受洗的基督徒如邵岩，17年前，有人也在我面前说同样的话。我希望你从本期的音频内容中，听到上帝所爱的儿女，在真理中寻得自由的那份独特的喜乐。我也渴望与朋友们聊天，因为今天我们生活在一个科技大平台封建主操控者我们生活的“美丽新世界”，这个世界貌似高度连接，其实高度断裂，有人称它为“Digital Despair”的温床。但是，我们的忧伤可以互相倾诉，我们的喜乐可以互相分享。我们的心理的堵点，也可以通过说话的到疏通、疗愈。

保持我们对美好的记忆、保持你作为人的情感，对美的感知、对善的渴望，对真理的企盼。让我们在不确定的年代，不被恐惧所塑造，而被盼望所引领。

Be Prepared，don’t be scared!对这个充满低迷空气的世代，解毒剂是参与而不是逃避。有一位作者如此建议我们：选择你给予注意力的对象；选择你愿意成为什么样的人；选择你要传递给孩子的价值；选择你要面对、影响、服侍的人群。

领导力从来不是带领别人，而是首先要带领自己。

As a fellow member of the same church I have served in since my baptism in 2008, we both share a deep conviction that what China truly needs is the Gospel of Christ.

In 2024, I drove six hours from Toronto to visit him; in 2025, he drove six hours from Syracuse, New York to visit me. Our connection runs deep — perhaps because we both come from STEM backgrounds and share the desire to serve as co-workers with our families in faith.

At Beijing Fuxing House Church, founded by the U.S.–Korean evangelist Rev. Che, we once formed a four-man core group: a young, devoted deacon (who sadly passed away this year), an older brother from my seeker’s class, Yunpeng, and myself. Among us, Yunpeng was the youngest and the brightest.

In 2012, he sold his apartment and car in Beijing and went to the United States to pursue his PhD degree. He completed his doctorate in 2018 and founded USPLM, an aerospace data-system startup, in the same year. The company attracted early attention from incubators and investors, developing what became a core resource management and data analytics engine for the emerging infrastructure inspection, precision agriculture, and urban air mobility industries — including commercial drones, eVTOL, and intelligent low-altitude air-traffic sensing and management systems.

According to its Crunchbase profile:

USPLM is a developer of unmanned aerial systems designed to capture overhead data using drones and apply that data to maintain operational safety and aerial navigation. Its platform combines an integrated, scalable drone-fleet-management system that monitors and communicates navigational data, assisting U.S. operators who require secure data management and smart decision-support systems for mission planning, execution, monitoring, real-time analytics, and regulatory compliance. The technology enables UAS operation centers, manufacturers, government agencies, and research scientists to manage fleets, secure aerial operations, and navigate regions using drone-based data in real time.

However, in our two-hour conversation for my Christian Leadership Talk for Startup CEOs, the focus was not on technology but on Christ — how young Chinese believers can live out their faith and calling in business. We explored how the Holy Spirit, God’s Word, and the body of Christ work together to nurture and empower personal leadership, especially in the fast-moving world of technology and innovation.

USPLM was successfully acquired by a California-based technology company in 2020 and later merged with another tech firm in Silicon Valley in 2022. Yet the core architecture and engine that Yunpeng and his team designed in 2018 remain alive today — serving as a cornerstone within a much larger data infrastructure.

Beyond his accomplishments as the co-founder and CTO of USPLM, Yunpeng’s story reflects a journey across boundaries of law, compliance, and ethics — a path that tested both his intellect and his faith. To understand it fully, I invite you to listen to our conversation.

When you listen to Senator Sanders talk about “great young people” willing to stand with the working class, what he’s really describing — maybe without naming it — is a longing for moral leadership.

He’s pointing to the same vacuum that you noticed — in politics, in business, even in global institutions — a failure of heart, not just a failure of policy.

And when we put that beside the model of Jesus’ leadership, the difference becomes almost blindingly clear.

Jesus didn’t lead by being in the locked room with power.

He led by walking the dusty roads with the powerless.

He didn’t say, “Protect your position.”

He said, “Take up your cross.”

He didn’t gather people to preserve control;

He gathered them to serve the world.

In Matthew 23:11–12, Jesus said:

“The greatest among you shall be your servant.

Whoever exalts himself will be humbled,

and whoever humbles himself will be exalted.”

That’s the opposite of what we see today — where those in high positions often exalt themselves, guard their status, and use leadership as a shield of privilege rather than a tool of service.

But biblical leadership — the leadership modeled by Christ — is rooted in truth, humility, and courage.

And those three qualities are exactly what Sanders was calling for in that clip — not more politicians, but more principled leaders.

People with the guts, as he said, “to take on the oligarchs” — not to gain power, but to speak truth on behalf of others.

So when you said you were startled into thinking about Jesus’ model, that makes perfect sense.

Because the world is hungry — desperately hungry — for a kind of leadership that looks less like a throne room and more like a towel and basin.

We’re seeing the limits of leadership built on hierarchy.

And we’re hearing — in small ways, even through moments like that interview — the echo of Jesus’ invitation:

“Whoever wants to be great among you must be your servant.”

That’s the kind of leadership the world needs right now.

Not more command.

More compassion.

Not more control.

More character.

And that’s why your insight matters — you’re hearing the same call that Jesus gave two thousand years ago, still reverberating in the age of politics and media today:

The world doesn’t need stronger rulers. It needs truer servants.

A few days ago, I watched an interview with Gregory Garber, a man who once taught neuroscience and clinical psychology, earned a master’s degree, and pursued two doctorates before illness and exhaustion pushed him to the margins of society.

Homeless for more than a year, he now speaks from experience—both scientific and painfully human—about what he calls “an incredible business model”: a medical system that treats symptoms endlessly instead of addressing causes. His voice, calm but charged with moral urgency, stayed with me. It inspired this reflection on the structure of modern medicine and the cultural spirit behind it.

1. The institutionalized body

Modern medical institutions—especially those intertwined with insurance networks and pharmaceutical corporations—seem deliberately organized to sustain dependency rather than to heal. Their logic is commercial, not curative: every chronic condition becomes a recurring revenue stream. As Gregory put it, “If you don’t deal with the root cause, then you can just continually treat the symptoms.”

The methodology of modern medicine may be rigorously scientific, but the institutional motive behind its practice has been corrupted by profit. Knowledge is not false, yet its application has been captured by an economic architecture designed to perpetuate treatment rather than cultivate health.

Although Fentanyl itself is a contentious and complicated political topics might not be a most suitable example, but once you dig deeper, you see the root cause is the just exactly therein we discussed.

2. The mechanistic paradigm

This corruption is not only financial—it is conceptual.

Modern medicine still operates under a mechanistic and reductionistic worldview, a legacy of Newtonian science. The human body is treated as a machine composed of interchangeable parts, each to be repaired, recalibrated, or replaced. Hospitals function like automobile service stations: patients arrive with malfunctions; doctors diagnose which subsystem failed; technicians—sometimes armed with pharmaceuticals, sometimes with surgical instruments—restore the measured parameter to its numeric “normal.”

But this view omits the holistic nature of life. A living organism is not a car. It is more akin to a self-regulating ecosystem or a biological chemistry in dynamic equilibrium. In any complex reaction, the removal of one product or suppression of one pathway can unbalance the whole. Human health is vastly more intricate than such reactions, yet the medical system continues to intervene as though every problem could be fixed by isolating and eliminating a single variable. The result is often a disruption of the subtle equilibrium that sustains vitality.

A friend once told me about his son, a child with Down syndrome. Over ten years, they visited countless hospitals and specialists. Each doctor treated a different part—heart, muscle tone, learning ability—yet no one saw the whole child. “It’s like taking a car to a repair shop,” the father said. “Each mechanic fixes something, but no one knows how the car drives on the road.” His story captures the existential flaw of the mechanistic model: it repairs components but forgets the person.

3. The wisdom of balance

Traditional Chinese medicine, by contrast, begins from a philosophy of wholeness. It sees human beings as subsystems within the vast circulation of nature, where health is not the absence of malfunction but the presence of harmony. Symptoms are signals of imbalance within a dynamic totality—body, mind, and environment. The physician’s task is not to suppress a symptom but to help the organism restore its self-regulating balance.

Curiously, Gregory’s reflections on the body’s self-healing power echo this ancient wisdom. “The human body is remarkable at healing itself,” he said. “You break a bone—it heals. You scrape your leg—it heals. So chronic illness doesn’t make any sense.”

Behind his words lies a forgotten faith in the body’s inherent intelligence, a faith older than modern science and closer to the rhythms of nature.

4. Faith, helplessness, and misplaced anger

Here the question turns moral and theological. Why, in societies historically shaped by Christianity, has a culture of anti-intellectualism grown so visible—especially around medicine and science?

The answer, I believe, lies not in theology itself but in the lived condition of believers. Ordinary Christians, like all citizens, inhabit a capitalist medical-industrial complex that they neither design nor understand. They sense its moral contradictions—profit over care, bureaucracy over compassion—but lack the expertise or agency to challenge it. Their frustration transforms into distrust of the intellectual class, which they perceive as complicit. Thus, anti-intellectual sentiment becomes not a theological product, but a social and emotional reaction to systemic powerlessness.

Yet we must add a nuance: under certain circumstances, such sentiment can indeed arise from distorted theology—interpretations that privilege obedience and moral certainty over inquiry and doubt. This connection has been explored by some theologians, but the socio-institutional roots of such distrust—the emotional and structural forces within capitalist society—remain largely ignored in contemporary theological debate.

5. Scapegoats and architects

As this distrust grows, a tragic inversion occurs. The scientific and academic community, which should be partners in understanding, become scapegoats. They are cast as the “black sheep” responsible for society’s moral decay, while the true architects of the system—powerful corporations, financial elites, and their tightly knit networks—remain hidden behind the curtain of necessity and progress.

The public, overwhelmed by complexity, directs its anger at the visible thinkers instead of the invisible engineers of profit.

6. Transcript: Dr. Marty on the System

Here is the unedited voice of Dr. Marty, highlighting the urgency of systemic failure and chronic disease in America:

• “Why has pancreatic cancer doubled over those 20 years? Who’s working on that? Who’s looking into it? We are so busy in our health care system billing and coding and paying each other and every stakeholder has their gigantic lobby in Washington DC and everybody’s making a lot of money except for one stakeholder—the American citizen. They are financing this giant expensive health care system through their pay checks deduction for health insurance and the Medicare excise tax. As we go down this path of billing and coding and medicating… we have poisoned our food supply, engineered highly addictive chemicals that we put into our food, we spray it with pesticides that kill pests. What do you think they do to our gut lining and our microbiome? And then they come in sick. The GI tract is reacting. It’s not an acute inflammatory storm. It’s a low-grade chronic inflammation and it makes people feel sick and that inflammation permeates and drives so many of our chronic diseases that we didn’t see half a century ago. Who’s working on this? Who’s looking into this? Who’s talking about it? Our health care system is playing whack-a-mole on the back end and we are not talking about the root causes of our chronic disease epidemic.”

• “Where are they spending their money on food as medicine and looking at the estrogen-binding properties of pesticides that are driving our fertility rates down? They’re funding research in Wuhan, China. And they’re funding research on a new food compass to replace the misinformation they put out with the food pyramid, telling us Lucky Charms is healthier than steak. Somebody has got to speak up. Maybe we need to talk about school lunch programs, not just putting every kid on obesity drugs like Ozempic. Maybe we need to talk about treating diabetes with cooking classes, not just throwing insulin at everybody. Maybe we need to talk about environmental exposures that cause cancer, not just the chemo to treat it. We’ve got to talk about food as medicine and research these areas. Twenty percent of our nation’s kids are on medication. And as you heard, half are obese or overweight. Are they more disobedient than children in Japan? Or have we poisoned the food supply? Is this a chronic disease epidemic that has been a direct result of what adults have done to children? We like to blame people for their diseases. But maybe we need to look inward. We see all these shiny objects thrown at us. Politicians talk about, oh, we’ve got a new health care proposal. Medicare can now negotiate the prices of 10 generic drugs. Don’t be fooled. These are things in the periphery… In a $4.5 trillion economy expanding at 8% per year in the commercial sector, that’s a $200 billion expansion. We saved $6 billion. The best way to lower drug costs in the United States is to stop taking drugs.”

7. Toward a renewed vision of healing

Gregory Garber ended his interview not with bitterness but with hope:

“I just want the truth to get out there. I want to see everybody healthy and happy… connected with family and having relationships. Find your purpose. God has given us all unique talents.”

In those words is a moral vision that transcends both medical and theological boundaries. Healing, he reminds us, is not only biochemical repair but a recovery of meaning, of belonging, of purpose. It is the reunion of the mechanical and the spiritual, the scientific and the humane.

If there is to be a reform of medicine—and of faith’s relationship to knowledge—it must begin here: with the recognition that a person is not a machine, that life is not a serviceable product, and that truth cannot be reduced to the metrics of efficiency.

Only when we reclaim the idea of the whole human being—biological, emotional, social, and divine—will healing once again become what it was meant to be: the restoration of balance in the living world.

Through the lens of physics, the constellation emerges as a network of matter and energy, bound by the laws of the universe. Ontology invites us to ask what it means for such a structure to be—to exist within the order of reality itself. Phenomenology then turns toward human perception, examining how constellations are not only seen but experienced, how their patterns shape wonder, orientation, and emotion. Hermeneutics completes the triad by exploring how meaning is constructed through these celestial forms—how across history, cultures have read the stars as narratives of destiny, divinity, and identity. Together, ontology, phenomenology, and hermeneutics reveal three intertwined ways of knowing: existence, experience, and interpretation—each shaping how we understand the cosmos and, in turn, ourselves.

A powerful example of these three dimensions intertwining unfolded in China between 1937 and 1941. In 1937, the same year Japan launched its full-scale invasion of China, the nation also witnessed the birth of modern astronomy with the founding of the Purple Mountain Observatory. This moment symbolized a farewell to more than two thousand years of imperial astrology, which had served the emperor as a celestial system of omens. For the first time, Chinese scientists trained abroad—many from American universities—returned home to pursue astronomy as an ontological science rather than a divinatory art. Among their most ambitious projects was the observation of a total solar eclipse predicted for September 21, 1941, a rare phenomenon that would sweep across China from west to east.

Amid the chaos of war, the astronomers transported delicate instruments and telescopes from Sichuan and Chongqing to Gansu, the last territories free from Japanese occupation. Their expedition was harassed by enemy aircraft and constrained by uncertainty—weather conditions, bombings, and supply shortages. Yet the Chinese government gave full support: the air force even provided planes to carry the scientists above the clouds, allowing them to complete their observations under extraordinary conditions. The event became an act of courage and intellect intertwined—a confrontation between light and shadow, science and war.

The interpretation that followed carried profound cultural resonance. The last solar eclipse of comparable magnitude had occurred centuries earlier, at a time when a Chinese general had repelled Japanese forces from Zhejiang. Now, in 1941, the eclipse once again became a sign read against the backdrop of invasion and resistance. For Japan—whose national flag bore the rising sun and whose mythology centered on the solar deity—a total eclipse could appear as a symbolic darkening of its imperial destiny. If this solar eclipse were to be seen as an omen, then perhaps it foreshadowed a turning of history itself: the shadow cast upon the “nation of the sun” might foretell the coming reversal of the Pacific War, as the United States entered the conflict after the Pearl Harbor attack later that year. In retrospect, the eclipse was both a scientific triumph and a cultural text: a moment when ontology—the cosmic fact—met phenomenology—the lived experience of observation—and hermeneutics—the human act of reading meaning into the sky. The shadow across the sun became, for China, not a curse but a turning point, a luminous metaphor of endurance and renewal.

If hermeneutics reveals how meaning is formed, behavior can be seen as meaning performed. Every action arises not merely from knowledge, but from interpretation—the way individuals or societies read reality and translate it into practice. Just as different schools of economics interpret value, scarcity, or risk through distinct theoretical lenses, people embody these interpretations in their choices, investments, and patterns of participation in the market. The act of buying, saving, or speculating is therefore not only rational but interpretive—an expression of how one understands the world’s order and one’s place within it. In this sense, behavior becomes a living hermeneutic: the movement of meaning from thought into action, from understanding into the shared choreography of culture and economy.

In October 2021, two comets appeared on opposite sides of the Milky Way, tracing slow arcs of light across the same sky yet inviting radically different readings. Under modern astronomy, they were celestial visitors—bodies of ice and dust whose trajectories could be mapped and predicted. But through the lenses of ancient Chinese astrology and Western constellation lore, such appearances once signified shifts in cosmic order, warnings or promises inscribed in the heavens. Today, in a world of digital finance and global networks, those ancient interpretive habits resurface in unexpected ways. Many traders of Chinese cultural background still consult the I Ching or traditional star patterns as frameworks for decision-making, seeing market movements—Bitcoin surges, gold corrections, the dollar’s breath—as echoes of celestial rhythms. The comets thus become more than astronomical events: they reveal how interpretation, whether mystical or scientific, continues to guide human behavior, binding the logic of the cosmos to the volatility of human economies.

Ultimately, from constellations to comets, from the heavens to human markets, we are reminded that knowledge alone does not move the world—interpretation does. Every system we build, every economy we sustain, and every belief we hold arises from how we read and re-read the universe around us. Between physics and faith, calculation and intuition, our actions trace their own constellations of meaning across the vast field of the unknown.

带领从自己开始，而带领自己的力量从长期来看必以生命的成长为前提、为基础。没有成长的生命，对照着并不停止的时钟，显出实质的退步。

而退步的另外一种表征是，我们越走越觉得困难大过希望，绝望淹没盼望。然而，神是有恩典、怜悯的神，当我们意识到自己的怠惰、退步，以及在困难面前的退缩，以至于我们原本可以带领人，如今却成为地铁上班人流里、机场抵达口人流里又一个茫然，失去发现有新意的想法、挑战墨守成规的现实。并敢于躺到而不是勇于创新“fail to discover thought-provoking ideas, and be brave to challenge conventional wisdom and inspire innovative leadership.”

起来吃喝，并靠主恢复力量！因为前面要走的路甚远。看，那远处就是神的山，他在那里等候你与他面对面。走过遭难的日子，必得来生命的成长。

病中祈祷
大卫的诗，交与伶长。
1眷顾贫穷的有福了！他遭难的日子，耶和华必搭救他。
2耶和华必保全他，使他存活；他必在地上享福。求你不要把他交给仇敌，遂其所愿。
3他病重在榻，耶和华必扶持他；他在病中，你必给他铺床。
4我曾说：“耶和华啊，求你怜恤我，医治我！因为我得罪了你。”
5我的仇敌用恶言议论我说：“他几时死，他的名才灭亡呢？”
6他来看我就说假话；他心存奸恶，走到外边才说出来。
7一切恨我的，都交头接耳地议论我；他们设计要害我。
8他们说：“有怪病贴在他身上；他已躺卧，必不能再起来。”
9连我知己的朋友，我所倚靠、吃过我饭的也用脚踢我。
10耶和华啊，求你怜恤我，使我起来，好报复他们！
11因我的仇敌不得向我夸胜，我从此便知道你喜爱我。
12你因我纯正就扶持我，使我永远站在你的面前。
13耶和华以色列的　神是应当称颂的，从亘古直到永远。阿们！阿们！

上图：左2出版人张冬，左3作者余春林，右3人物形象王恩建，右2策划编辑刘纳新，右1浙江少儿出版社领导

上图：DataWeco百人坊｜香草山传奇背后的故事音频采访

我依旧记得，2013年在13号线光熙门站，在刘道宽牧师的召集下，我和春林在光熙门站出来后对面的永和豆浆店见面，我们坐在一起，讨论职场福音。

12年后，回首那个火热的福音广传且不受拦阻的年代，我发现，职场宣教之外，复兴教会几位不同堂点的四位弟兄姐妹，竟然一起参与了一件奇妙的神的工作：创作出版一本中国儿童话语的天路历程，寻求生命、伙伴、成长、爱与真的故事。

不幸的是，当这本书计划推向市场的时候，疫情降临。他们原本计划周详的市场推广计划，全部泡汤。出版人张冬公司的资金变成了库房里静置的纸质书。变幻的市场，是所有商业的逐浪者都需要面对的挑战。

在商业世界里，如何转嫁风险、如何规避风险、如何险中求财，充满了商业历史，也写满了奸诈和欺骗。基督徒是否因为自己的信仰和上帝的恩典，能够践行伦理商业的准则而不是随波逐流，这是一件极其困难的事情。

基督徒做的牛肉面会比兰州拉面更香些吗？作为罪人，没有人可以如此夸口。在商业世界里，如何合作？如何彼此谦卑？是产品竞争力的来源。本期，作为访谈的第一部分，我与春林、恩建讨论了他们是如何彼此配搭的。春林披露了创作中的巅峰体验，与创作的心流；以及在之后求而不得，与神发脾气的真实心迹。

正是这一份如同孩童帮的真实，使春林的心在《香草山传奇》里与上帝的心相和。因为上帝喜悦孩童的率真、并认：孩童的动作是清洁，是正直， 都显明他的本性。（箴言20:11），耶稣也说：“我实在告诉你们，你们若不回转，变成小孩子的样式，断不得进天国“（马太18:3）。

领导力首先源于我们如何带领自己。如何诚实面对自己。并能够管理自己的内心、省察自己的内心，包括动机。时刻察看自己所做的一切是荣耀自己，还是归荣耀给神。如此，我们才能在关系中，在合作伙伴、在合伙人，在公司组织结构的权力位置上，为神作管家。

《香草山传奇》所经历的是神的恩典，也是神运行万事的智慧。希腊文圣经说，这是上帝的经济（God’s economy, 希腊文οἰκονομία），因为上帝顾念经济普惠对于世人的祝福，对属世界的政府的祝福。也是对诚实、坚韧、信心者的祝福与赏赐。

音频包装：Nancy Shao，Special Thanks！