Those who Revile...
...may be put to shame (1 Peter 3:16)
December, 2018
On November 15th of this year, a 26-year old named John Chau defied local laws and walked ashore on an island in the Bay of Bengal. This area was restricted due to the small tribe who live there: the Sentinelese, notorious for their aggressive attacks on outsiders. Chau reportedly came ashore and attempted to offer gifts to the islanders, proclaiming that he loved them and that Jesus loved them. They fired arrows at him as he fled. Chau returned the next day to try again. On November 17th, offshore observers saw the tribesmen dragging his body to the beach and burying it.
Afterwards, authorities determined John Chau had extensively planned and prepared for this trip. Chau felt compelled to share the gospel with the Sentinelese people. He knew what he was doing was both illegal and extremely dangerous. Notes and journal entries left behind show he accepted that this attempt could cost him his life.
Reactions to Chau's death are telling. Beyond confusion, or sadness, some have reacted with mocking and even a perverse sort of glee that the Christian missionary was killed. Others have said the islanders ought to be punished by the Indian government. Even supportive Christians have criticized his approach. Despite all the noise and ignorant talk, there's a biblical perspective on this which is easily missed.
Chau's bravery and sacrifice ought to be honored, not sneered at. He wasn't acting for personal gain. He knew full well what he was risking. What happened to him was definitely "murder," in that Chau clearly presented no threat. All the same, North Sentinel island is legally quarantined for a reason. For decades, the tribesmen have made it clear they want no part of the outside world. For outside governments to step in and pursue further action, in this situation, would be inappropriate. It's possible to be saddened by Chau's death without demanding revenge, and without expecting those who helped him land on the island be let off without consequences.
It's also possible to question the specific approach Chau used. Asking, "did he go about this the right way?" is not the same as insulting or demeaning his intent. Some believers have done exactly that: acknowledging the heart and sincerity of his efforts, while also disagreeing with his particular method.
What more hateful people seem to miss is that this young Christian clearly knew—even said—exactly what he was risking. He chose to act anyway. What he did wasn't "stupid," or "reckless," it was a calculated, intentional act motivated by sincere and courageous love. This wasn't someone who died performing a daredevil stunt. He wasn't drunkenly fooling around. He didn't act in haste, or anger, and certainly not in fear. It wasn't a money-making venture or a power grab. He had nothing to gain, but thought it was important these people hear the truth, even at the cost of his own life.
He knew it was illegal, and dangerous. And yet he felt telling those people about Christ was worth risking his own life. This is exactly what the Bible means about obeying God rather than men (Acts 5:27–29), while at the same time being "subject to" government by taking whatever punishment is given when we do so (Romans 13:1–5).
Of course, ignorant and small-minded people find that ridiculous. They're more than happy to mock the man for his death. Those who appreciate sacrifice and service, even if they don't agree with what he did, or his faith, are inclined to be more sympathetic. Giggling and taunting over this issue comes from a strain of modern culture which can't be bothered with personal inconvenience to help others. They're the trolls who spend a few dollars in charity or a few hours at a 5k run and think they're philanthropists. But then they laugh at the slaughter of someone willing to die to earn a slim chance of reaching out to those who will probably murder him. In many cases, that mocking comes from a personal distaste for Christianity, but in others it's just a symptom of a petty, shallow person.
There does not have to be a "missionary side" or an "islander side" to this issue, as if one had to "blame" one party for it and hold the other faultless. We should understand why John Chau did what he did, and respect it accordingly. That doesn't mean we're obligated to think he did everything right—and many Christians think his approach was misguided. The reaction of the islanders was predictable, and to some extent represents their "national sovereignty" in refusing to allow outsiders. We can still label their actions extreme and immoral. But we shouldn't seek retribution or feel obligated to call for international involvement. Everything will be "paid for," eventually, and not by human beings (Romans 12:14–21).
Other missionaries have taken similar risks to reach people with the gospel; some of those attempts ended in tragedy. Even initial disasters, at times, have opened the door to later success. It remains to be seen what the final impact of John Chau's sacrifice will be.
Risking one's life is sometimes part of the missionary calling. That can be acknowledged, and mourned, without pretending it's unexpected. It can be discussed and even debated without contempt. And even for those who don't share the faith, it ought to be respected, rather than mocked. Those who find something funny or satisfying about Chau's death show their true colors.
-- Editor
