What’s something you do completely differently from how you were raised?
If the question touches on hobbies, habits, or social rhythms, I could list a dozen divergences. But if it reaches for the bedrock of values—no, that ground has not shifted beneath me.
From my earliest school days, I was handed the old Chinese saying: “For a junzi, ten years is not too long to wait for revenge.” For centuries, that proverb has whispered an eye-for-an-eye logic into generation after generation. Yet I have never nursed a grudge fierce enough to crave return. My reading of it has always been different: not a countdown to retaliation, but a discipline of patience—a pause long enough for wisdom to catch up.
Then Christ began renewing me day by day, and I saw clearly: revenge is never the dish to serve, cold or hot. Forgiveness is. Always. Scripture places vengeance beyond human hands, in the sole keeping of God (Deuteronomy 32:35; Romans 12:19). So true wisdom is not to wait a decade to strike, but to step back and let justice, divine and perfect, unfold in its own time. Our part is simply this: lean towards peace. Extend grace. Let forgiveness be the first and final word.
The old proverb carries weight across ages, but it has also fed a cycle—grudge begetting grudge, trick answering trick. In our clamorous world, clashes spark easily, and vengeance remains perpetually in fashion, while forgiveness grows rare and quiet. May the lines below serve as a small counterweight: fire consumes, but peace—slow, steady, unglamorous—endures.
—
“Why Strive”
Voices rise on embered breath—
small dogs snarl, but great ones rest.
He who clutches right too tight
finds his victory lost to night.
Bow, then bow—low is strong;
fire that flares burns ere long.
Strive for stillness, breathe the calm—
home is sheltered, nation balmed.
Vengeance waits a decade’s turn—
but forgiveness need not burn.
Leave the scales to hands above;
human duty: peace and love.
Refrain from wrath, let anger cease—
the fretful heart finds no release.
—
en yan hua fang 