The Chair of Honor

Last updated on: April 20, 2026 at 8:16 am by Randy Alcorn

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The Chair of Honor 2026-03-30T15:19:06-08:00 Randy Alcorn

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While my novel Safely Home shows some suffering in China, it’s ultimately an encouraging book, full of hope and anticipation. I want readers to see events on Earth with an eternal perspective. I pray they’ll come away with a greater love for their brothers and sisters overseas, and with a deeper sense of anticipation for Heaven.

This is one of many responses to the book that our ministry has received over the years:

One day a young philosophy student from the University of Nairobi came into the shop and asked for a book that was a good read, and not the usual religious stuff. He wanted something stimulating. After asking a few questions, the young Kenyan who was tending the shop suggested Safely Home, guaranteeing that he would be captivated, challenged, and have lots to think about. So the student bought the book, came back within 2 weeks saying he had gone to church the following Sunday after reading that book, and had met Jesus Christ personally. He was thrilled and wanted another book. He had passed Safely Home on to his parents and siblings. Within a month or two he returned to say that his whole family had come to Christ and were growing, having involved themselves in an alive evangelical church.

Here are a few excerpts from my novel Safely Home, starting with American Ben Fielding visiting the home of his old friend Li Quan in China and encountering a chair that, to his surprise, is never sat in:

“Please sit down,” Quan said, stretching out his hand. There were five chairs, two partially broken, which were quickly taken by Quan and Ming. Shen took another. This left two chairs—one mahogany, large and beautifully handcrafted, with embroidered velvety cushions on the seat, back, and arms. It had an almost regal look, entirely out of place in this modest home. Assuming it was the chair of honor intended for the guest, Ben started to sit in it. Quan quickly stood and pointed to the other chair, the second-best one of the lot.

“Please sit here, my friend.” Ben sat next to Quan, directly across the table from the unoccupied fifth chair.

Who else is coming?

“This is xigua, correct?” Ben asked.

“Watermelon. Yes!” Quan smiled broadly. “Join hands, please.”

Ben swallowed hard and felt Quan’s and Shen’s hands touch his. He held them lightly but felt them both squeeze.

“Thank you, Zhu Yesu,” Quan said fervently, “that you have brought to us my friend Ben Fielding. We pray he will enjoy this visit with us. And that you would bless his wife, Pam, and their children and comfort them in his absence. Amen.”

Ming prayed, then Shen, both in Chinese. Ben fidgeted but kept quiet. He didn’t understand some of this unique spiritual vocabulary.

“Tell me about your father’s imprisonment,” Ben said. “I mean, if you feel up to it.”

“I am honored you would ask,” Quan said. “My father first went to jail in the early days of People’s Republic. He was imprisoned again in the sixties during the cultural revolution. I was eight when Li Tong went to jail for the last time. I was permitted to visit him a few times a year, though they would not let me touch him. But by the time I was twelve my heart had turned away from him. I was a proud little Communist, and I refused to visit my shameful father anymore.” Quan winced at the memory. “Then when I was fifteen, my mother forced me to visit him in prison.”

“What was it like?”

“The man I saw did not look like my father. His face was like a pale, twisted mask. But I could recognize his eyes. The last thing he said to me that day was ‘Zhen jin bu ba huo lian.’’’

“Real gold fears no fire,” Ben said.

Quan nodded. “And he added, ‘One day you will die. You must spend your life preparing for that day.’ I have often asked myself, ‘Is this the day?’ ”

“What did your mother do after he died?”

“She had already taken over my father’s job. They called her ‘the smiling pastor.’ She was a good preacher. She preached at me many times! I regret I did not listen. Not even the night I came home and she’d been beaten. They knocked out two of her teeth.” Quan trembled. “Even in her pain she managed to smile, but it hurt me to see the missing teeth.”

“Who beat her?”

“PSB.”

“Why?”

“Because she was a Christian. Even worse, a pastor. God’s enemies need no more reason.”

“How old were you when she died?”

“Eighteen. I was off with my friends when the earthquake happened. When I ran through the rubble to my house, I saw smoke rising. It had collapsed and was burning. In it I found my mother’s body. She had done every thing for me. No son had a mother so kind, so filled with the joy of Yesu. But I did not appreciate her as I should have. Yes, I wept for her, but more for myself, because I had no home.”

“Where did you go?”

“To my mother’s parents. They were Christians. They did not know what to do with all my arguments against Christianity, which I got from school. I was even angry I wasn’t allowed to sit in our beautiful chair, made by my grandfather. When we had company, I sat on the hard floor many times while that chair sat empty.” He pointed to the large mahogany chair at the table. “I saw no point in having a beautiful chair no one was allowed to sit in.”

“What was the point?”

“Do you not know?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Then it is best for you to learn for yourself.”

“What is your important question, Ben?”

“You have to tell me about that chair!”

“What chair?” Li Quan asked, unable to keep the corners of his mouth from twitching.

“You know what chair. The mahogany chair, the empty one, with the high back. Ming and Shen say you have to tell me. I can’t get a word out of them.”

“Li Wen built the chair. He was a master craftsman, known throughout the province. It took him more than a year. He built it first in honor of his father, Li Manchu. But then it became for him the chair of Yesu. When others claimed to rule the world, it reminded him who was the true King.”

“That’s why it’s almost like a throne?”

“A very modest throne. But yes. There is only one who is worthy to sit in it. That same one is always present in the house of Li. My father learned that as a child. I should have, too, but I was very slow to learn. Shen understands already.”

“He’s had a good teacher.”

“Not good enough, I fear, though Ming has made up for my shortcomings. The chair is a remembrance of the Li family line of believers, going back to Li Manchu. But most important, this chair is a remembrance of Yesu’s promise to always be with his children. At every meal we have, we remember he is with us. When we sit in the evening, when we go to sleep at night, we remember he is there, watching over us. No matter what.”

“Has no one ever sat in the chair?”

“My father said his father, Li Wen, taught that Yesu was truly in the chair, that though he was everywhere and the chair was but a symbol, it was a very important symbol. As Li Wen did not let anyone sit in it, neither would Li Tong. He said if we sat in the chair we would forget its meaning. Whenever we had too many guests, the chair sat vacant while my father or I sat on the floor. I resented him for expecting me to sit on the ground rather than on a good chair. I was a young fool.”

“Better a young fool than an old fool,” Ben said.

“Yes.” Quan smiled. “This would make a good Chinese proverb. There is hope for Ben Fielding. Tell me, old friend—how was Christmas?”

“I got oranges for Ming and Shen. And bananas and grapes.”

“Ben Fielding is a worker of miracles,” Quan said. Tears formed quickly and dripped freely down his cheeks. “They must have been very happy.” He looked skyward. “Thank you for this kindness, Yesu.”

Ben pushed his hand harder into the wire fence and wrapped his fingers around Quan’s. Just then the guard came and herded him away to the black hole. Li Quan walked back to his desolate cell, singing. Ben Fielding, realizing he had never thanked God for a piece of fruit, walked back to his beautiful vehicle, despairing.

Quan’s house was nearly empty. Ming and Shen were gone, setting up new living quarters in their half of Zhou Jin’s tiny place. Ben sat on his bed, the only one of the three still there. He was about to make the final drop-off to Zhou Jin’s. Only the bed, the mahogany chair, and a few odds and ends remained.

A cockroach skittered across his bed.

“You didn’t get the eviction notice, huh, buddy? Well, I guess you’ll be getting some new roommates. I’ll miss you.”

I’m talking to a cockroach. It could be worse. At least I haven’t named him.

The draft was worse without furniture and bodies. Despite his jacket and the blanket covering his feet, Ben trembled.

After a few minutes he got up, crossed the room, and knelt in front of the empty chair. He wept. He opened his Bible in front of him and reread a line from First Peter he’d underlined, one that Ming had showed him that morning. “‘Give all your worries and cares to God, for he cares about what happens to you.’”

Having done everything he could think of and still not getting the desired results, Ben laid his head on the soft untouched material of the chair. He felt comforted.

Well, I guess if I’m not in control, the next best thing is knowing you are. Come to think of it, that’s a whole lot better, isn’t it?

He laughed. Then he spoke some more to the Owner of the chair.