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by Dr. John Hunter Torchbearers Fellowship, England
The (ú/taqon Temple D URING my visit in Taiwan, I had the opportunity of being with Overseas Misssionary Fellowship and their missionary, Norman Cook. He felt I should see something of the pagan life which is very evident there. On several occasions I was taken to the Dragon Temple in the city of Taipei, which is the capital. It’s a building possibly four or five hundred years old. Quite opposite of our country with churches used on Sunday and perhaps Wednesday eve ning, this Dragon Temple is con stantly in use. There are always crowds of people and there are serv ices at various times with the doors open day and night, seven days a week. I stood in the shadows and watched exactly what took place. No one seemed to mind our picture-tak ing. The people weren’t worshipping in the same way that we do. They didn’t sing hymns or hear a specific message. They went to ask questions. There were idols at the far end of the temple, some more ugly than others. They were very ornate, gro tesque to behold. Before each of these praying places were lines of men and women waiting for their turn to genuflect. I saw a woman come light her incense sticks so that the smoke would curl up. This was to let the gods know that she was ready. Her face seemed so sad and searching, it was hard to detect anything but dissatisfaction. She would ask her question, then pick up two sticks and throw them into the air. As they fell to the floor, she would study their position for this was part of her an swer. Next she would go to a big container, pull out another stick, on . the bottom of which was a number. After this she walked over to a big drawer and pulled out the number
that corresponded to the one on the stick. She took a paper from the drawer. This was carried to a priest, would explain more to her about the answer. As soon as she moved on, someone else stepped in her place. Now these weren’t always poor peo ple. I remember seeing an impres sive new Cadillac with a Chinese chauffeur stop at the step of the temple door. A woman quite elegants ly gowned came out and took her place in line waiting to go through this strange and superstitious ritual. There were mothers in one section teaching little children how to pray to the gods. All of these people were trying to find answers to their prob lems. When they left, I noted that their faces were still sad and filled with uncertainty. I could not but think of my own face and what it revealed. What absolute assurance I enjoy! Paul testified to Timothy, “For I know whom I have believed, and am per suaded that he is able to keep that which I have committed unto him against that day.” What words of comfort there in the darkness of the shadow of that pagan shrine! Here were people vainly seeking answers from someone who never existed, or if he had been a hu man being, he had long since died. Do we as Christians realize the bless ings we have in Christ? We all have doubts and questions, but the mar velous thing is that when they come, we’re able to say with confidence, “I know whom I have believed!” The object of my faith isn’t some golden idol wrapped in the smoke of in cense. It is my personal faith in a living Saviour, One who died on the cross and rose again. He it was who graciously invited, “Behold, I stand 15
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