My friend Gary wrote the following account of our Day of Pentecost worship near Wu Wei:



Two bus rides and I was almost there. Then there was the walk through a village of houses fashioned from the dry mud of this desert area. Around a corner, through an apple orchard and then it appeared. The church stretching its twin spires toward a blue and cloudless sky.
I had come that Pentecost Sunday with friends to attend Mass at a Chinese Catholic church. Entering the church just as the bell tolled its signal that the service was about to begin, I found the only seat left in a far back corner of the large balcony. Sitting beside a small window I could see the procession gathering outside preparing itself to enter the church. The restless altar boys, the little girls dressed in frilly dresses and angel wings, a group of nuns in traditional habits, two priests and a monk.
The day of Pentecost had come and there was the sound – of firecrackers. Chinese people love firecrackers. There is never a celebration without them. And so too, was this celebration on Pentecost Sunday.
After the firecrackers the procession entered the church and the Mass began with both male and female participation. We prayed, we sang, listened to scripture and heard a fine sermon.
Then came the time for the Elevation of the Host – a most sacred part of any Catholic Mass. The ringing of bells and then – the day of Pentecost had come and there was the sound – of firecrackers.
After the firecrackers, someone began to play a small harmonium and we all sang, What A Friend We Have In Jesus. The tradition of a Catholic Mass, the sound of firecrackers and the singing of an old gospel hymn.
Coming out of the church I could see in the courtyard the overflow congregation of old men with their long white wispy beards sitting on tiny stools and little children too energetic to be confined to a pew. Smiling faces all around.
There on the edge of a village, just past the apple trees, it stands. A church stretching its twin spires toward the sky. What folk could have laid that first foundation? Who could, without a guide, ever find that place today? What about the small boys attending to duty at the altar on that day? The little girls in angel wings? The nuns in traditional habits? The peasant farmers kneeling in prayer?
When the day of Pentecost had come they were all gathered in one place.
Blessings,
Gary MacDonald
Hexi Teachers College
Zhange, Gansu Province
China

Recently, there was a frenzy of activity as the campus prepared for an inspection by the Mayor of Lanzhou. Freshmen and sophomores were excused from some of their classes so that they could wash windows and scrub floors in dorms and classroom buildings. Students tiptoed along the ledges to wash the glass on the outside. (That's B, one of five academic buildings, with its gleaming windows.)

On the day and hour of the visit, the foreign English teachers were summoned for a phony English Corner in the Rose Garden. We stood around and chatted with the English majors who had dutifully appeared; I don't know whether our performance was observed by the visiting delegation. A few days later, one of my sophomore students fulfilled an assignment by writing a news story about the event. She noted, in part:

"Some students came from every department to clean the surroundings, as well as some teachers. The whole campus looked very clean and beautiful. . . . In the afternoon, the president accompanying, the mayor inspected works in the campus. . . . Finally, the mayor gave us a wonderful talk. He said, 'The United University is better than I thought.'"