_The Right to Regulate My Private Affairs As I Wish_
_"Wherefore, if meat causeth my brother to stumble, I will
eat no flesh for evermore, that I cause not my brother to
stumble."_--I Corinthians 8:13
"Please, teacher," said a voice at my elbow, "wouldn't you like to
wash your face?"
We were having a week in the country. For the fifth time that day, our
first full day out, there stood the pastor's wife, holding out to me a
basin of steaming water. She had just the right combination of
humility and pride in her manner. I quickly stifled the desire to say,
"I don't want to wash! What in the world do I want to wash my face
five times a day for?" Then I mumbled thanks, and reached wearily for
my washcloth. But a little later I tackled her about it.
"Do you always wash your face as often as this?"
"Why, of course!" was the quick reply. "All clean people do! And I was
brought up in a very clean family."
I let the matter drop, and washed my face (and my feet) as often as
she thought best for the rest of the trip.
* * * * *
Grandmother Bay's little granddaughter had just come back from
Shanghai. Grandmother Bay proudly appeared at church accompanied by a
prettily dressed, well-behaved child of about nine. After the service
several of us sat chatting. One old lady looked at the child's pretty
frock, and then gave a quick glance at her grandmother.
"I suppose that's the Shanghai style," was all that she said, but
Grandmother Bay divined her meaning.
"Just what I thought myself!" She quickly caught up the remark. "It's
pretty material, and nicely made--cut a bit closely, but I suppose
those Shanghai tailors do it that way. But the sleeves! Practically no
sleeves at all! It's almost indecent! But you know, she has hardly a
scrap of the material, and I haven't been able to match it. Otherwise
I should have lengthened them immediately. It's too good a garment to
throw away. I don't know what in the world to do about it!"
I sat listening with my mouth open. The child was little enough so
that I would hardly have been surprised to see her running around the
yard with nothing on but a pair of trousers, as many smaller girls
did. (The boys needed still less!) The objectionable sleeves were just
long enough to cover her shoulders. What was wrong with that for a
child of her size?
I looked at the two women, trying my best to understand their point of
view. What I saw made me gasp. In that area the older women all wore
thigh-length loose jackets, and loose trousers, as their regulation
attire. It was warm, and one of the two women had just pulled up her
trouser legs. Her short stockings reached about eight inches above her
ankles, and were held in place by tight round garters. She vigorously
fanned her bare knees as the two, with serious, troubled faces,
continued the conversation about the "indecent" dress.
* * * * *
What is decency anyway? In certain groups in India it is not decent
for a woman to show her face, but her bare feet peep from beneath her
long robes. Things that look perfectly all right to us look indecent
to someone else; and things that look indecent to us may look
perfectly all right to someone else!
A young missionary goes inland to her first station. "I'm not going to
look frumpy!" she declares, and takes all her prettiest dresses. When
she comes out in gay colors that are not worn in that backward area,
or in short sleeves when everyone else has elbows duly covered, her
senior missionary attempts to suggest a bit of alteration in her
wardrobe. All suggestions, however, are indignantly rejected. She
plunges enthusiastically into work with the children, using pictures
very effectively to supplement her limited vocabulary. One day her two
favorite scholars do not appear, and she asks her helper, a bright
high school girl, the reason. The embarrassed and evasive answer does
not satisfy, and she keeps after the poor girl until finally she is
told the truth. An hour later her senior missionary finds her weeping
in her room.
"She said," she chokes, "she said----that their mother won't let them
come any more because I----because I can't be a good woman; I dress
like a--a prostitute!"
What is wrong? Why does the eager young missionary have to go through
all this heartache? Just because she is not willing to see with
someone else's eyes. Her own standards are the only right ones. She
learns by hard experience the fact that other people _do_ see things
differently from us, and that it _does_ make a difference. After all,
this is their country, and these are their customs. We cannot expect
them to adjust to ours. It is the foreigner in the strange land who
has to adjust to the ways of that land.
To learn a new language, the ear must be alert to hear just that
little turn with which a sound is pronounced that makes all the
difference between a foreign and a native accent. To become adjusted
to a new people, the eye and the heart must be alert to perceive
clearly, to understand and take in their feelings and their reactions.
May God grant us the seeing eye and the hearing ear!
* * * * *
"Oh, they're terribly strict at that Bible school!" someone remarks.
"There are rules about how long your dresses must be, and how you must
wear your hair. I wouldn't stand for it! Why, it's things like that
that give Christianity a bad name!"
Perhaps. At the same time, one who has shown that he is willing to
give up his own standards and conform to someone else's, even though
he may not see the reason for those standards, has shown an attitude
that will take him a long way on the mission field. The "how I do my
hair and what kind of clothes I wear is my own business!" attitude so
frequently met with, both at home and on the field, is not a promising
one. If we have fully given ourselves to Christ, nothing is our own
business--it is all His.