寻根之旅
（接上文）
第二部分：前往河南老家的寻根历程
- 关键主题：寻根、福音、亲情、神恩
人物：大姑、大姑父、乔治（同行者）、春雨（司机），大表姐、作者本人
人生有三个根本性的哲学问题：我从哪里来？我往哪里去？我为什么活着？
对信主的人而言，第一个问题的终极答案是清楚的——我们人类并非源于猿猴进化，而是出于始祖亚当，是按着神的形象被造。然而，在这个终极答案之下，我们仍然会不断追问更贴近生命处境的问题：我从哪里来？我的父亲从哪里来？我的爷爷又是从哪里来？
这些问题并非削弱信仰，反而推动我们去更深地理解自己的身份、血脉与生命的承载。
苏轼在《题西林壁》中写道：“不识庐山真面目，只缘身在此山中。”
十八年前，我初到美国，仿佛一只离开笼子的小鸟，以为终于可以在另一片天地自由飞翔。然而，当在美国的奥克拉荷马城市大学修读“中国哲学”课程时，我才猛然发现自己对中国文化却有了一种别样的体会与反思。正是在那时，我忽然意识到：当这只小鸟在西方的天空翱翔时，它的家、它的栖息之所，却始终深深扎根于那片曾经孕育它的土壤——五千年悠久而厚重的中华文化。
中国早期革命家瞿秋白曾说过一句意味深长的话：“鸟爱自己的翅膀，人爱自己的历史，何必撕破我的历史呢？”
这句话所表达的，正是人对自身历史与身份的深切珍视。由此反思，我们这些信主的基督徒，又何必刻意切断自己与历史的连接呢？在基督里得着新生命，并不意味着否定或抹去我们的历史；相反，正是在圣灵的真光照耀下，我们才得以重新理解、重新承载并重新解读那段属于我们的历史。
我出生在中国黑龙江，父亲的老家在河南。小时候上户口，表格里有一栏要填写“原籍”（一般人都写父亲的老家），那一栏上总是写着母亲的老家——山东。
我常常心生疑问：为什么不填父亲的老家河南呢？
大人们只是低声回答：“你爸爸小时候成分不好，是富农（在那个年代，被划为“富农”成分，往往意味着在政治上受打压和被歧视），他是从老家逃出来的，尽量不要提”。于是，这个被刻意回避的名字，反倒在我幼小的心灵里留下了更深的印痕。
说来奇怪，移民海外十八年后，“河南”这个地方对我来说却似乎越来越近。尤其是当三岁的儿子天成一脸认真地追问：“爸爸，你的爸爸在哪里？你的爷爷又在哪里？”
这些看似天真的问题，一次次把我带回那些被搁置的记忆与尘封的往事。越是被遮掩的历史，越容易引人追问；父亲的出身，仿佛一层朦胧的迷雾，让人忍不住想要掀开它的面纱，去弄明白，为何会如此。 - 回国计划
去年，我在小石城事奉已满七年，迎来了一个月的安息年假期。时间虽短，需要拜访许多人，但有一件事对我来说至关重要：必须回河南洛阳看望我的姑姑和姑父。自爸爸1996年去世后，姑姑便成为我们家最亲的长辈。她已经八十四岁，回国一趟不容易，我心中坚定要去看望她和家人。
重要的是，众弟兄姐妹为我祈祷能有机会与姑父分享福音。姑姑已信主多年，而姑父尚未信主。基督的福音最为宝贵！我们知道，对于一个人来说，死亡并不可怕，真正可怕的是没有基督而离开人世。想到这里，我的心充满期待，也为福音之光能照耀亲人们的心灵而祷告。
当我与国内的乔治分享前往洛阳的计划时，他非常兴奋，并说：“我表妹正好在洛阳，她可以开车到火车站接我们”。于是，“事就这样成了”。乔治的妹妹，正是前文第一部分提到的春雨姐妹。
6月9日下午四点多，当乔治和我乘坐的火车缓缓抵达郑州火车站时，我们聊起了许多老家的往事，那些记忆既揪心又沉重。忽然，一个念头脱口而出：在洛阳看望大姑的同时，是否有可能回商丘的柘城老家，为爷爷奶奶扫墓？乔治听后立刻表示全力支持，并说这件事太重要了，远比单纯看望大姑更有意义。
从洛阳到商丘柘城的车程大约需要三个半小时，来回就是七个小时。我们在洛阳只有两天，这次行程必须在一天内完成。虽然路途遥远、行程紧凑，他立刻安排春雨妹妹开车接送我们，让这个计划得以落实。如果这次行程既能看望亲人，又能有机会与亲人分享福音，还能完成一次对中华民族孝道的致敬与实践，那岂不是三全其美呢？（未完待续）
A Journey of Seeking Root
2/1/26 Pastor’s Word
(Continued)
Part Two: The Journey of Seeking Roots in My Father’s Hometown in Henan
Key themes: seeking root, the gospel, family affection, God’s grace
Characters: aunt, aunt’s husband, George (companion), Chunyu (driver), cousin, the writer
There are three fundamental philosophical questions in life: Where do I come from? Where am I going? Why am I alive?
For those who believe in the Lord, the ultimate answer to the first question is clear—human beings did not evolve from apes, but came from the first ancestor Adam and were created in the image of God. However, beneath this ultimate answer, we still constantly ask questions that are closer to the circumstances of our lives: Where do I come from? Where does my father come from? Where do my grandfather and ancestors come from?
These questions do not weaken faith; on the contrary, they drive us to understand more deeply our identity, lineage, and the inheritance of life.
Su Shi, a famous ancient Chinese poet, wrote in Inscription on the Wall of Xilin: “One cannot see the true face of Mount Lu, only because one is in the mountain.”
Eighteen years ago, when I first arrived in the United States, I felt like a bird leaving its cage, thinking I could finally fly freely in another world. However, when I took a course on “Chinese Philosophy” at the Oklahoma City University, I suddenly realized that I had developed a different understanding and reflection on Chinese culture. It was then that I realized: as this bird soared in the Western sky, its home and its place of rest remained deeply rooted in the soil that had nurtured it—the five-thousand-year-long, profound Chinese civilization.
An early Chinese revolutionary Qu Qiubai once said a meaningful sentence: “Birds love their wings; people love their history. Why tear apart my history?” This statement expresses the deep value people place on their own history and identity. Reflecting on this, why should we Christians deliberately sever our connection with history? Receiving new life in Christ does not mean denying or erasing our history; rather, it is under the illumination of the Holy Spirit that we can reinterpret, re-bear, and re-understand the history that belongs to us.
I was born in Heilongjiang, China, and my father’s hometown is in Henan. When I was a child, filling out the household registration form, there was a column for “ancestral home” (most people wrote the father’s hometown). That column, however, always listed my mother’s hometown—Shandong.
I often wondered: Why not fill in “Henan” (my father’s hometown)?
Adults would only whisper: “Your father’s social status when he was young was not good; he was a rich peasant (at that time, being labeled as a ‘rich peasant’ often meant political suppression and discrimination), and he had fled from his hometown, so it was better not to mention it.” Thus, this deliberately avoided name left a deeper mark on my young mind.
Strangely, eighteen years after immigrating overseas, the place “Henan” seemed increasingly close to me. Especially when my three-year-old son, Elijiah, seriously asked, “Daddy, where is your father? Where is your grandfather?”
These seemingly innocent questions repeatedly brought me back to those memories that had been set aside and dusty past events. The more a history is concealed, the more it prompts inquiry; my father’s origin was like a layer of mist, making me eager to uncover the veil and understand why things were this way.
Return Trip Plan
Last year, I served in Little Rock for seven years and was granted a one-month sabbatical. Although the time was short and many people needed to be visited, one thing was of utmost importance to me: I had to return to Luoyang in Henan to visit my aunt and her husband. Since my father passed away in 1996, my aunt had become the closest elder in our family. She was already eighty-four years old, and returning to China was not easy. I was determined to see her and her family.
More importantly, the brothers and sisters were praying that I would have the opportunity to share the gospel with my aunt’s husband. My aunt had believed in the Lord for many years, but her husband had not. The gospel of Christ is most precious! We know that for a person, death itself is not the greatest fear; what is truly frightening is departing this world without Christ.
With this in mind, my heart was full of expectation, and I prayed that the light of the gospel could illuminate my relatives’ hearts.
When I shared my plan to go to Luoyang with George in China, he was very excited and said, “My cousin happens to be in Luoyang; she can drive to the train station to pick us up.”
And so, “things were settled.” George’s cousin was Sister Chunyu mentioned in Part One.
Around 4 p.m. on June 9, when George and I arrived at Zhengzhou Train Station, we talked about many memories of our hometown. These memories were both painful and heavy. Suddenly, a thought escaped my lips: “While visiting my aunt in Luoyang, would it be possible to also go back to my ancestral home in Zhecheng, Shangqiu, to pay respects at my grandparents’ graves?” George immediately expressed full support and said that this was extremely important, far more meaningful than just visiting my aunt.
The drive from Luoyang to Zhecheng, Shangqiu, takes approximately three and a half hours, making the round trip seven hours. We only had two days in Luoyang, so this journey had to be completed in one day. Although the route was long and the schedule tight, he immediately arranged for Chunyu to drive us, making this plan feasible. If this trip could allow us both to visit relatives, share the gospel, and fulfill an act of respect and practice of Chinese filial piety, wouldn’t it be the perfect combination of three goals? (To be continued)