Farewell, Seoul
PostPosted: Tue Jul 05, 2005 12:41 am
It's with very mixed feelings that I depart Korea. Being in the military, you do get used to moving frequently, yet this move is more bittersweet than perhaps any other move I've had before.
At this hour I'm still struggling with the jet lag that's an unavoidable companion when you fly halfway around the world in less than 16 hours. I'm back in the United States -- back "home" -- although in the words of Rich Mullins:
Nobody tells you
When you get born here
How much you'll come to love it, and how
You'll never belong here
So I'll call you my country
And I'll be lonely for my home
I wish that I could take you there with me...
Already I'm reveling in the wonders of the States -- I can go almost anywhere and be understood; I can get clothes in my size and bacon and eggs for breakfast; I can drive on highways and roads without having to dodge murderous buses and nimble bongos (a small blue flatbed truck driven by suicidal men who ignore most traffic laws while maintaining bored looks on their faces).
Yet there's a lot to Seoul that I miss. I miss sharing the common dishes, liked whole baked fish or kimchi, with other diners, everybody eating out of the same bowls. I miss the hardwood heated floors that you walk around with your socks on. I miss moonlight strolls and morning bike rides on the Han River. I miss going out on the streets, day or night, and feeling safer than I've felt anywhere else in the world. I miss the steamed rice that's the cornerstone of every meal.
Korea is a world away and a world apart from the States. You should note that of the "1000 Places You Must Visit Before You Die", not one of them is in Korea. No matter, it is not Korea's fault that it sits at the crossroads between powerful, world-dominating nations like China and Japan. Had it not, perhaps some of its treasures would remain for us to admire. Then again, it would not have produced the wonderful people it has, people toughened by hardship and now reveling in a rebirth of both religion and economy.
Korea is a very Christian nation, so much so that I have met many Korean missionaries who have traveled to other, less-evangelized parts of Asia to spread the gospel. It boasts the world's largest membership church. I never visited there, but I attended several services at a church whose membership was 35,000. "In my Father's house, there are many rooms." Likewise. The fact that Korea has been richly blessed, I think, is no coincidence.
Yet, now, Korea stands at a crossroads. Let there be no doubt in anyone's mind that China is a giant that has awoken from its long and terrible nightmare and is now intent on extending its influence throughout the world. Japan, the dominant economic powerhouse of the region, is on a gentle, sloping decline -- but is far from dead yet. With China the hammer and Japan the anvil, can Korea escape economic and political annihilation? I mean this in the truest sense -- the people of Korea will survive, but the notion of Korea as a separate national entity may not.
Some of this is Korea's own doing. A true democracy for less than two decades, many political forces that date back prior to World War II are still in power. The rich are very rich -- and you need not look very far to find the poor. There is some simmering discontent among students and the young adults about this, but so far it has not translated into much more than the occasional demonstrations you might see on CNN. The "Miracle on the Han" is over, the economy has stalled, and the leadership seems fresh out of ideas about how to handle its own internal problems, let alone the emerging realities it has been handed.
And, of course, adding to the excitement is the fact that the world's third largest army sits across a border that's 35 miles to the north of Seoul -- and their leader is a paranoid madman with nuclear weapons. Imagine if your next door neighbor was intent on moving into your house someday -- and was eagerly breeding dozens of Pit Bulls to unleash on you should that day come -- and you've got an idea of how it feels to look across the DMZ and see the faces of the gaunt North Korean soldiers looking back at you.
And that, in a nutshell, was my Korean experience. I guess we in the West enjoy our security and our comfort items, a state Ezekiel called "full of bread", and I am developing something of a guilt complex plunging unapologetically back into it. I've lived in a place far less secure with far less comfort, and yet the people there seem just as happy and the society much less violent than what I know to be in the U.S. On the other hand, while I liked Korea, it was much like Japan in that I will always feel like an alien there, always on the "outside".
So, farewell, Seoul. You were my home for a short while, yet you were never my home. And I return to a place I call home, yet know from you that it falls short in many ways, too. As C.S. Lewis says, if my heart yearns for a home that no place has satisfied, then I must have been created for a different Home. To be content with that knowledge is something I still have to learn.
At this hour I'm still struggling with the jet lag that's an unavoidable companion when you fly halfway around the world in less than 16 hours. I'm back in the United States -- back "home" -- although in the words of Rich Mullins:
Nobody tells you
When you get born here
How much you'll come to love it, and how
You'll never belong here
So I'll call you my country
And I'll be lonely for my home
I wish that I could take you there with me...
Already I'm reveling in the wonders of the States -- I can go almost anywhere and be understood; I can get clothes in my size and bacon and eggs for breakfast; I can drive on highways and roads without having to dodge murderous buses and nimble bongos (a small blue flatbed truck driven by suicidal men who ignore most traffic laws while maintaining bored looks on their faces).
Yet there's a lot to Seoul that I miss. I miss sharing the common dishes, liked whole baked fish or kimchi, with other diners, everybody eating out of the same bowls. I miss the hardwood heated floors that you walk around with your socks on. I miss moonlight strolls and morning bike rides on the Han River. I miss going out on the streets, day or night, and feeling safer than I've felt anywhere else in the world. I miss the steamed rice that's the cornerstone of every meal.
Korea is a world away and a world apart from the States. You should note that of the "1000 Places You Must Visit Before You Die", not one of them is in Korea. No matter, it is not Korea's fault that it sits at the crossroads between powerful, world-dominating nations like China and Japan. Had it not, perhaps some of its treasures would remain for us to admire. Then again, it would not have produced the wonderful people it has, people toughened by hardship and now reveling in a rebirth of both religion and economy.
Korea is a very Christian nation, so much so that I have met many Korean missionaries who have traveled to other, less-evangelized parts of Asia to spread the gospel. It boasts the world's largest membership church. I never visited there, but I attended several services at a church whose membership was 35,000. "In my Father's house, there are many rooms." Likewise. The fact that Korea has been richly blessed, I think, is no coincidence.
Yet, now, Korea stands at a crossroads. Let there be no doubt in anyone's mind that China is a giant that has awoken from its long and terrible nightmare and is now intent on extending its influence throughout the world. Japan, the dominant economic powerhouse of the region, is on a gentle, sloping decline -- but is far from dead yet. With China the hammer and Japan the anvil, can Korea escape economic and political annihilation? I mean this in the truest sense -- the people of Korea will survive, but the notion of Korea as a separate national entity may not.
Some of this is Korea's own doing. A true democracy for less than two decades, many political forces that date back prior to World War II are still in power. The rich are very rich -- and you need not look very far to find the poor. There is some simmering discontent among students and the young adults about this, but so far it has not translated into much more than the occasional demonstrations you might see on CNN. The "Miracle on the Han" is over, the economy has stalled, and the leadership seems fresh out of ideas about how to handle its own internal problems, let alone the emerging realities it has been handed.
And, of course, adding to the excitement is the fact that the world's third largest army sits across a border that's 35 miles to the north of Seoul -- and their leader is a paranoid madman with nuclear weapons. Imagine if your next door neighbor was intent on moving into your house someday -- and was eagerly breeding dozens of Pit Bulls to unleash on you should that day come -- and you've got an idea of how it feels to look across the DMZ and see the faces of the gaunt North Korean soldiers looking back at you.
And that, in a nutshell, was my Korean experience. I guess we in the West enjoy our security and our comfort items, a state Ezekiel called "full of bread", and I am developing something of a guilt complex plunging unapologetically back into it. I've lived in a place far less secure with far less comfort, and yet the people there seem just as happy and the society much less violent than what I know to be in the U.S. On the other hand, while I liked Korea, it was much like Japan in that I will always feel like an alien there, always on the "outside".
So, farewell, Seoul. You were my home for a short while, yet you were never my home. And I return to a place I call home, yet know from you that it falls short in many ways, too. As C.S. Lewis says, if my heart yearns for a home that no place has satisfied, then I must have been created for a different Home. To be content with that knowledge is something I still have to learn.
