Little Wisdoms

I expected the congregation to be small; after all, it was the 8 o’clock service. I didn’t expect it to be that small, with only eight older women scattered across the sanctuary. Online, the church had seemed enormous. But when my husband, daughter, and I slipped into the last pew, the pulpit felt only a few steps away.

We were in Taiwan on a hot, humid Sunday in November of last year, visiting a local church. The service wasn’t in Mandarin as I had expected, but in a local language called Hokkien, common among the older generation. Despite not knowing the language, we tried to blend in as much as possible, smiling politely and humming through familiar hymns. But a young couple with a toddler was impossible to miss in a congregation of elderly women. They all smiled brightly at us, hoping to befriend the newcomers.

The service was moving along quietly when my toddler suddenly stood on the pew and loudly passed gas. I was flabbergasted. My little girl erupted in giggles and did it again. It was a stinky one this time. I grabbed her and we ran to the bathroom outside the sanctuary doors. As we made our way back, a lady who was serving came to our row.

I bowed my head and said, “Duì bù qǐ, duì bù qǐ” (“I’m sorry” in Mandarin) for all the commotion we caused. She brushed away my apology with a wave and smiled at my daughter. Using Google Translate, she asked if we were new. I told her we were visiting from the United States. Then I asked what I’d come to ask: “How can we pray for your church?”

The lady looked surprised. She sighed, her shoulders slumped. Her phone read, “Pray for our nation.” The nation of Taiwan, according to what we had learned during the trip, was facing increased pressure of annexation from China, with the Taiwanese president increasing military spending and opposing parties doubting the imminence of the threat.

When the service ended, the pastor greeted us at the door. The pastor, in his 40s, spoke fluent English. I asked him the same thing. Immediately he said, “Pray for the younger generation. They have many questions.” They faced mounting pressures— rising housing costs, job insecurity, geopolitical anxiety. Marriage and birth rates were at historic lows. I had seen it myself: a public park in Taipei where adults outnumbered children four to one.

Both answers caught me off guard. As a religious minority in Taiwan, they could have asked for revival or growth of the congregation. Instead, I encountered a quiet, expansive faith: a church carrying its nation in prayer.

Before the trip, I thought we were going to a local church to encourage the believers there. I left feeling like they had encouraged me. I came back praying differently, not for a country on a map, but for a young pastor at a door and a lady with a phone who carried their nation on their shoulders. When I pray for Taiwan now, I think of that park—more adults than children—and I understand exactly what the pastor meant.

P.S. Below are a few pictures that stayed with me: Daan Park, where adults outnumbered children and Gold Basin Tea Garden, high up in the hills of Taipei.