Reflections from Pastor John Cao is a series of poetry and writings from the recently released Chinese Christian prisoner of conscience exclusively published by ChinaAid. The pieces below were written on May 11, 2024 and has been minimally edited for clarity. To read more of Pastor John Cao’s poetry, one can purchase the collection written while he was imprisoned, Living Lyrics: Poems from Prison.
Golden Thread Garment
During the Han dynasty, emperors were buried wearing golden thread garments.
Most of them eventually had their tombs looted by grave robbers,
Leaving only idle chatter for fishermen and woodcutters.
Filial sons erect steles to bury the golden body[1],
As lamps extinguish, bacteria consume, deep in the rotting mud[2].
Fishermen and woodcutters chat and laugh about worldly affairs,
Keeping grave robbers busy prying open tomb doors.
Notes:
- “Golden body” refers to the body wearing the golden thread garment.
- “Lamps extinguish” symbolizes death, while “bacteria consume” depicts the corpse decomposing into soil.
Those filial sons memorialize their deceased fathers with steles and bury them in golden thread garments. However, life doesn’t end with death, like a lamp being extinguished; the body still decays underground. Fishermen and woodcutters casually chat about past events over meals, while the busiest are those who break into the tombs.
Ode to Yan Ying
During the Spring and Autumn Period, there was a prime minister in the State of Qi named Yan Ying. He was short in stature. Once, when he was sent on a diplomatic mission to the State of Chu, the King of Chu wanted to humiliate him by asking him to crawl through a dog hole. He refused, saying he would only enter if he were visiting a dog state. A poem praises this:
The King of Chu growls low, the hole already open,
If you know what’s good for you, obediently crawl in.
But a man’s dignity and backbone are not broken,
How can one lower their brows and roll up like a mat to be stuffed1?
Note:
- “Roll up like a mat” alludes to a line from the Book of Songs, “Ode to the Cypress Boat”: “My heart is not a mat, it cannot be rolled up,” meaning one cannot be rolled up like a mat and stuffed into a dog hole.
The King of Chu growled in a low voice, saying the dog hole’s entrance was already open. If you know what’s good for you, you should obediently crawl in. But a person has dignity, and their backbone is not yet broken. How can one lower their brows and meekly roll up like a mat to be stuffed into a dog hole?
The Lord Delights
A reflection on Micah 6:8 and Romans 12:1.
A life of abundant grace, willingly offering myself,
Trying to repay a fraction, yet struggling to keep up.
The Lord smiles, delighting in my heart,
I need only humbly run on the narrow path.
I have experienced so much grace in my life that I am willing to lay down my life for the Lord. I plan to repay a ten-thousandth of the Lord’s grace but find myself unable. The Lord smiles and says he has already delighted in my faith; all I need to do is walk humbly with him on the narrow path.
I rise at five in the morning and first silently sing the follow:
All is quiet, my spirit awakens,
Silently worshiping and praising.
New blessings, a new journey,
Joyfully walking with the Lord.
Mother Writes a Letter
Sealing tears, worried about the arduous mail route[1],
Just sat down, paper and pen laid out again.
Transcribing Scripture and short messages of praise,
Tiring steps, pondering the long journey ahead.
The Lord’s call ultimately leaves this world behind,
In old age, still relying on His mercy and grace.
An old life hanging by a thread, love still overflowing,
Mother and son, hand in hand, together praising Heaven.
Notes:
- “Sealing tears”: Sealing tears into the envelope, as every letter contains the mother’s tears. “Mail route”: The route for sending letters. Due to the pandemic, mail routes are often obstructed.
Son Awaits Letter
Who makes the prisoner look forward to joy each day?
The deep affection of a mother from far away, pouring in like a sweet spring.
The Son of Man earnestly teaches the lost to walk the right path,
I, a humble disciple, ride on the shoulders of the crowd, head held high.
Having chosen the path of righteousness, I no longer fear death.
Cutting off the root of sin, calamity is then relieved.
A hero’s determined heart, even in old age, presses on with an iron will,
Searching for sheep across rugged wilderness.
Ode to Apostle John
The Apostle in his nineties stands tall before us,
Wasting even a second feels like a painful whip.
The most beautiful twenty-five years,
Gladly throwing a sprat, giving all for the kingdom.
Ode to the Foolish Old MAn
The Foolish Old Man suddenly awakens in his twilight years,
Firmly believing the towering mountains are no match for his baskets.
Generation after generation, the hidden secret is passed on,
God will surely not stand by with hands in His sleeves.
The Foolish Old Man suddenly understood the true way in his later years and began digging the mountain with reckless abandon. He firmly believed that the majestic mountains were no match for his soil-carrying baskets. Generation after generation, they dug the mountain. There was a secret to digging the mountain that he didn’t tell anyone – he firmly believed that God would absolutely not stand by and watch with hands in His sleeves.
Occupying Land in Vain
A reflection on Matthew 21:19 and Matthew 6:1-2.
A solitary tree by the road, flaunting widely,
Upon closer look, no flowers or fruit to be found.
Wasting water, squandering sunlight, occupying land in vain,
Better to chop it down, give it to the woodcutter for firewood.
A large tree flaunts itself widely by the roadside, but upon closer inspection, it has no flowers or fruit. This tree wastes water, squanders sunlight, and occupies land in vain. It would be better to chop it down and give it to the woodcutter for firewood.
The Prodigal Son Returns
A reflection on Luke 15.
Thieves mercilessly invade, stealing sheep,
The shepherd, anxious, holds his staff and approaches.
In the scorching wilderness, he sweats and cares for the flock,
Amidst surging waves, he diligently fishes.
Sleeping under the stars, head on a stone, snakes flicking their tongues,
Carrying water, preparing fodder, welcoming new sheep at the door.
The prodigal son’s return, a distant hope,
The father’s love remains, like a cow licking its calf.
Thieves steal sheep, mercilessly invading the sheepfold. The shepherd, staff in hand, anxiously guards the flock by the sheepfold. In the wilderness, the shepherd sweats in the scorching summer sun, caring for the flock, and in moments of surging waves, he must also diligently fish. At night, he finds a stone to use as a pillow, with snakes slithering around. He also prepares water and grass for the sheep to eat. The old father stands at the edge of the field, hoping for the prodigal son to return from a far-off place. His deep love for his son, like a cow licking its calf, remains unchanged.