Arms of Love

After graduating from Auburn in 2001, I headed to Jingzhou (pronounced Jing-Jo) City in China to teach English at a small agricultural college. The college was outside one of the last walled cities in China, and while this city was considered small, it was home to about 2 million Chinese people. Among these 2 million Chinese people were about 8-12 Americans of which I was one.

In this small city, it was quite possible to come across Chinese people who had never seen or spoken to a real live American, and we were very intriguing to them. So intriguing that being outside the school gates could be very tiring some days as I was often approached by people wanting to talk with me or take a picture with me, and at the very least, they pointed and said loudly to all who could hear, “Mei-guo-ren!” which meant American.

At the college, I taught both spoken and written English classes to juniors and seniors, and while my students were only a few years younger than I was, they were more like children than my fellow college students from Auburn. If there was time at the end of each class, I would let them ask questions about America and sometimes about me. And at every such opportunity one of them would always ask me to sing.

My students loved music, karaoke, and singing any chance they could get. They didn't have to be good at it to enjoy it, so if I asked them to sing their favorite song for me instead, they would without hesitation and in front of the entire class. Common favorites were “Right Here Waiting for You” and “My Heart Will Go On.”

I avoided singing for them as long as I could until the English department put on a talent show for the school. They begged and I caved. Someone asked me what song I would sing for the program, and I'm pretty sure the entire school showed up when they learned the American teacher would be singing.

I don't remember much about that night except it was cold (buildings weren't heated) and for the first (and probably last) time since I'd been there, this extremely loud city was quiet. I walked up on stage, was handed a mic, and I began to sing.

“I sing a simple song of love, to my Savior, to my Jesus.

I'm grateful for the things you've done, my loving Savior, oh precious Jesus.

And my heart is glad that you've called me your own

And there's no place I'd rather be

Than in your arms of love, in your arms of love

Holding me still, holding me near in your arms of love.”

The song was one of my favorites from my days at the Auburn Christian Student Center, and while living in Jingzhou, I sang it when loneliness or homesickness got the better of me. I knew without a doubt my God was with me in this place so different from anything I'd ever known, and singing these simple words brought Him closer and made me feel safe.