Let your light shine

remembering June 4, 1989 | Beijing Spring

Jesus said, “You are the salt of the earth; but if salt has lost its taste, how can its saltiness be restored? It is no longer good for anything, but is thrown out and trampled under foot.

“You are the light of the world. A city built on a hill cannot be hid. No one after lighting a lamp puts it under the bushel basket, but on the lampstand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.

“Do not think that I have come to abolish the law or the prophets; I have come not to abolish but to fulfill. For truly I tell you, until heaven and earth pass away, not one letter, not one stroke of a letter, will pass from the law until all is accomplished. Therefore, whoever breaks one of the least of these commandments, and teaches others to do the same, will be called least in the kingdom of heaven; but whoever does them and teaches them will be called great in the kingdom of heaven. For I tell you, unless your righteousness exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.” (Matthew 5:13-20)

We find ourselves gathered around Jesus. The Sermon on the Mount continues. Earlier at this hillside party, Jesus called on us to believe that we are blessed; that even when we find ourselves tossed and turned and lost within the chances and changes of this life, we are under God’s protection. We join Jesus, as he tells his followers, “You are the salt of the earth. You are the light of the world. Let your light shine before others.”

Let your light shine. It is so easy to forget that God created us to be lights of the world. God created ALL of us to reflect God’s light. But we live in a culture that doesn’t believe we all have been created by God to share that light.

Tyre Nichols murdered by police. He has God’s light. But we forget. The people shout, “Black Lives Matter.” DeSantis legislates, “Don’t say gay,” burning books, silencing teachers, and denying the lived experiences and created reality of some people’s lived image of God. Queers have God’s light. The people shout, “We’re here. We’re queer. Get used to it.” I was born where I was born. You were born where you were born. God instills God’s light in all people wherever people are born. But we claim land and buy land and trade as we are playing Monopoly. “I trade these four houses for a hotel.”“Let us build a wall.” “Do not pass ‘Go.’” “Do not collect $200.” And the people shout all the louder, “No human being is illegal. Stop the madness.” Immigrants and refugees have God’s light. This little light of mine. I’m gonna let it shine.

Shout out, do not hold back!

Lift up your voice like a trumpet!

Announce to my people their rebellion,to the house of Jacob their sins.

Yet day after day they seek meand delight to know my ways,as if they were a nation that practiced righteousnessand did not forsake the ordinance of their God;they ask of me righteous judgments,they delight to draw near to God.

“Why do we fast, but you do not see?

Why humble ourselves, but you do not notice?”

Look, you serve your own interest on your fast day,and oppress all your workers.

Look, you fast only to quarrel and to fightand to strike with a wicked fist.

Such fasting as you do todaywill not make your voice heard on high.

Is such the fast that I choose,a day to humble oneself?

Is it to bow down the head like a bulrush,and to lie in sackcloth and ashes?

Will you call this a fast,a day acceptable to the Lord?

Is not this the fast that I choose:to loose the bonds of injustice,to undo the thongs of the yoke,to let the oppressed go free,and to break every yoke?

Is it not to share your bread with the hungry,and bring the homeless poor into your house;when you see the naked, to cover them,and not to hide yourself from your own kin?

Then your light shall break forth like the dawn,and your healing shall spring up quickly;your vindicator shall go before you,the glory of the Lord shall be your rear guard.

Then you shall call, and the Lord will answer;you shall cry for help, and he will say, Here I am. (Isaiah 58:1-9a)

Balloons float over Montana. Voting happens, but political ads continue. Covid variants and carjackings clog the airwaves, and despair sets in. Classified documents emerge, and poison water kills from Camp Lejeune, overwhelming my sense of self, and it seems as if my light is going out. What about yours?

This little light of mine. I’m gonna let it shine.

So in comes Isaiah. “Shout out, do not hold back! Lift up your voice like a trumpet!… Why do we fast, but you do not see? Such fasting as you do today will not make your voice heard on high.”

Isaiah reminds me that it is a privilege to fast. I can choose to fast from seeking justice. I can choose to fast from respecting another’s dignity. I can choose to fast from telling the truth. I can choose to fast from recognizing the light of others. I can choose to fast from defending democracy. But Isaiah warns, “Why do we fast, but you do not see? Why humble ourselves, but you do not notice? Look, you serve your own interest on your fast day, and oppress all your workers. Look, you fast only to quarrel and to fight and to strike with a wicked fist. Such fasting as you do today will not make your voice heard on high. Is such the fast that I choose, a day to humble oneself Is it to bow down the head like a bulrush, and to lie in sackcloth and ashes? Will you call this a fast, a day acceptable to the Lord?”

Sometimes, the light of faith begins to fade. Sometimes, the voices of the world extinguish the light within. But it is up to us, the people of God commissioned to be good stewards of God’s light, to keep the fire burning. As we say in New Orleans, “if you are out of gumbo, it’s time to make a roux.” Roux is the foundation of all Louisiana cooking. Equal parts fat and flour lovingly and continuously stirred over high heat, which creates the base of all good gumbos and jambalayas.

This little light of mine. I’m gonna let it shine.

So how is your light? Jesus reminds us, “you are the salt of the earth.” Salt gives flavor. Light gives hope. What light do you need? What light are you giving?

A long time ago, in the middle of the night, surrounded by darkness, I opened a letter from a friend. He and his wife were expecting their first child. Perhaps it was the birth announcement. I was extremely excited. As I opened the letter, there were pictures inside. Then my friend’s words illuminated what the pictures were all about. He wrote, “We demand democracy. We demand compassionate and empathetic leaders. We demand a press that tells the truth. We are tired of living in a nation comfortable with lies. And, we demand that Hu Yaobang, the secretary of the Chinese Communist Party, be recognized as a friend to the people. I have traveled with my wife to Tiananmen Square. We wanted you to have these pictures so you could show your friends. Let them know what we are protesting about. We want our voices heard around the world.”

The letter was dated May 21st. It was June 8th, 1989. I was horrified. On June 4th, the People’s Army opened fire on their own people, their own citizens. My friend, and his pregnant wife, left Xi’an and traveled 600 miles to Tiananmen Square. They were not alone. A movement had begun. And the words of the prophet Isaiah called them to action, proclaiming, “Your light shall break forth like the dawn, and your healing shall spring up quickly; Then you shall cry for help, and God will say, ‘Here I am.’”

This little light of mine. I’m gonna let it shine.

The one-hundred-acre Tiananmen Square is in the center of the city of Beijing. The square is surrounded by various government buildings for the gathering of the People’s Congress and museums that tell the history of the Chinese people. At the north end of the square stands Tiananmen Gate. Tiananmen Gate displays a huge portrait of the late Chairman Mao. In the center of the square is Mao’s Mausoleum, where people stand in line for hours to see the preserved body of the beloved chairman. On the south side of the square is a four-story Kentucky Fried Chicken.

Like my friend and his wife, people started gathering in the square setting up makeshift tents and temporary sleeping places as momentum built.

The Chinese government was in a panic. Mikhail Gorbachev was paying a visit to the People’s Government, but those historic meetings were getting significantly less attention because of the student movement in Tiananmen Square. The student protest supplied a media feast of images. Exhausted hunger strikers were dragged away. Colorful banners written in calligraphy called for democracy. Chants demanded an end to government corruption. Bullhorn communication announced a call for a free press. People applauded. Others cried. The People’s Government was losing face. As the light faded, the evening air gave way to a hot summer night.

People were tired. Several thousand more were hungry. Many had passed out and were carried away. On June 3, 1989. Wuer Kaixi, a student leader from Beijing Normal University, addressed the 20,000 gathered, “Today, China, we face a choice. Chinese history is about to turn a new page. What will we write in this new book? Tiananmen Square is ours. It belongs to the people, and we will not allow butchers to tread on it. Arise! Arise!”

Shortly after midnight, martial law was declared, and the students were told to leave Tiananmen Square. Helicopters and military planes practiced maneuvers above the student protesters. Troops moved from the outskirts of Beijing toward the square. The citizens of Beijing poured out of homes and businesses and appealed to the troops not to hurt the people, offering gifts of reconciliation such as food and drink. Fires were set, and gunshots were heard on all major highways leading to the square. The troops advanced.

In the middle of the night, I watched on TV. The images were brown and grainy. Bedlam seemed to rule the night. Gunshots could be heard. Bloody people would enter the TV screen, coming from darkness into the light, then being carried away, disappearing into the night. I recognized the light structures of the square.

Suddenly, the lights in the square went off. It was impossible to see what was going on. And the sound of gunshots created nightmares in my sleep.

At some point, around noon the next day, I woke up to see a skinny man standing in front of a line of tanks. He refused to move. Wang Weilin, a twenty-six-year-old printer, brought a tank parade to a halt. This took place on Chang’an Boulevard, a major thoroughfare leading to Tiananmen Square. As the tank tried to maneuver around Wang, he would move, stepping into the direction of the tank. When the tank stopped, he climbed onto the tank and shouted at the soldiers inside, asking, “Why do you come to my city? You have brought only misery. We do not need you. Go back!”

After his insults, he was dragged swiftly away by the military. The whole world witnessed this. Years later, when Barbara Walters interviewed Deng Xiaoping, she asked him what had happened to Want Weiling. He replied, “I think not killed.”

I think not killed. This little light of mine. I’m gonna let it shine.

Months later, I received another letter. “Home safe. Share the pictures. Tell the truth. People died to bring about a better world for China’s citizens. Never forget us. We love you.”

They were alive. I was relieved. And as I try to be a good steward of this little light of mine, I wonder, as the people gathered around Jesus that day on the side of that little hill, what kind of world they imagined. What kind of world do you imagine?

Light and salt need attention and care. But sometimes, I feel as if the light is going out. That is exactly the time when we need to remember each other’s light, inviting it to shine on us and show us the way.

Jesus challenged the people on the mount that day, saying, “I tell you unless your righteousness exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.” We need each other’s light to get there.

This little light of mine. I’m gonna let it shine.

Below is the documentary “Moving the Mountain,” directed by Michael Apted, emeded from YouTube. It chronicles the demonstrations of students in Beijing on the 4th of June 1989. The peaceful protestors called for fairness, truth, and a free press in the People's Republic of China. “Beijing Spring” was ended by army forces. The story is told from the student leaders’ point of view.