Standing firm in the bleakest times
Sister Siu tells of perseverance through pain
for the sake of
the Gospel
I became a Christian in 1991, and after an initial period of feeling very close to Jesus, my life became very difficult.
I was educated, with a good job in the government, but when I refused to sign forms allowing officials to steal top-quality clothing, I was 'removed'.
Then I began to study the Bible, but my pastor was a simple man who made remarks like, "We must never use our minds for they just lead to trouble. Just read the Word and obey it."
As Chinese Christians face oppression and threats for following Jesus, they look to their leaders for guidance, comfort and strength. However, there is no opportunity for house-church leaders to attend Bible college or seminary. You can help train a Chinese pastor by providing training materials.
He felt threatened by me. He would look at me as if to say, "Your mind will just lead us all into trouble."
When I began learning Greek over the Internet, it was the last straw.
Sadly, house churches like this one have only one role for women like me, and that is to send us to an unevangelised area. We cannot teach, because we 'cannot be trusted'. So I was sent to a distant province where there were few Christians.
Abandoned?
We were not given any money. We were supposed to 'live by faith'.
I was sent with another woman of 22. I was 28. She died of exposure after six months. The house that we built was not warm enough, and that winter was a harsh one.
I was left on my own, and all the more lonely as it seemed Jesus had abandoned me.
Then one day, I began sharing my faith with a Muslim man in the town. Unbeknownst to me, he was the leader of a local mosque, and by nightfall I was in jail for 'illegal preaching'.
I was put into a cell with twenty other women. I had heard that prison was a great place to make converts, but most of my fellow prisoners were disturbed, and I was beaten many times.
Eventually, I was released. But there were still no converts. I was skin and bone from the poor prison gruel.
The house I had built with my deceased co-worker was all broken down, and all valuable items had been stolen from it, including the cooker.
More precious than the stars
I remember sitting in my roofless house and as dusk fell, I saw the stars. They were so bright and close, I felt I could just reach out and touch them. My instinct was to feel utterly insignificant, but at that moment I suddenly felt great warmth flowing through me, and I heard a voice distinctly say, "I love you far more than these stars."
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After that, I had a new determination to keep going. Two days later, the leader of my house-church movement arrived. He was clearly shocked by my emaciated appearance.
He heard me talk of my time in jail, and I could see that I was now a 'safe' person in his eyes as I had been tested by affliction and come through.
Four months later, seven women arrived to help me. They said, "We are to be your co-workers and you are to teach us the Scriptures and we will walk the streets doing evangelism."
Two years later, the church is now 30 strong, and we are growing slowly. We even have four former Muslims in the fellowship.
There was a long season in my life when knowing Jesus was not easy, and I had to worship through it all even though I did not feel like it.
But, praise His name, He helped me persevere through the pain.