THE TESTIMONY OF A CHINESE GIRL
The beginning of my childhood was characterized by happiness and contentment. I was raised by my grandparents (grandpops) in China until the age of 5 1/2. During that time, my parents moved to Australia to make a living and provide a 'better' future for their family, so I wasn't close to my parents at all. When my dad came to take me over, it was heartbreaking for me to realize that the move away from grandpops would be permanent, and I did not look forward to Australia or anything it contained. My whole life was grandpops and living in that little, familiar Chinese town. So the beginning was hard enough.
Then to make things more difficult, my parents heaped chores on me when I arrived. My little brother was born by then and I was taught to look after him and to cook, vaccum, clean, etc. If I did something wrong, I was beaten. Affection was not shown and thus, I felt the stinging pain of a life that was the complete opposite to what I was used to in China. My loving, doting grandparents became even more 'grand' in my eyes compared to these 'strangers' called mum and dad who I was convinced didn't love me.
Things didn't improve with time. By the time my second brother was born (I was nearly 7) the beatings had only increased. My school teachers noticed the marks on my arms and legs and reported it, and for a brief period of time, I was removed to live with foster parents. But when my parents asked me to come back and said that they wouldn't continue with the beatings, I came back, only to experience the same thing as before. And so,, much of my childhood life (between 5.5-10), alternated between fear and how I could keep my parents off my back. By the time I was 10, I had resolved to run away and live a life on the streets. But prior to that experience what a classmate had said about God resurfaced in my memory and I reached out to Him, not knowing what will happen, only that I felt I had to do it, I guess. See, when I was about 9, a classmate asked 'Do you know who God is?' and I said 'No'. He/she went on to say that He was the most powerful being in the whole universe, and can hear & see everything. Whatever the actual words were, that little exchange made an impact on me. And so I asked God to hear me, to protect me and that I'd be good in exchange.
I asked God for help on the afternoon I ran away. That evening when I was crying to myself, a group of young boys found me and a few stayed close by to ask what was wrong, whilst others went to tell the police. I wonder to myself sometimes, whether they may have been sent angels:) After the encounter with police, I was placed in another foster home, and my final third one before my mother asked me to come back again.
I went back, not knowing why after what they've put me through but just hoping I guess, that they would keep their promise not to hurt me again. So to cut a long story short, my parents divorced around that time and I was placed under my dad's care. Amazingly enough, my high school life with dad was one of incredible freedom. He and I got along quite well and he set no curfews, and enforced no particular rules. If it wasn't for the Lord during this period (who provided me with the right kind of friends & the right sort of interventions) I may have been led to do all kinds of wild things, but I had no interest in alcohol or drugs & my friends didn't lead me anywhere near that territory.
Now it was during high school that I started remembering God to a greater degree. I also remembered my bargain about being good, which I found almost intolerably hard. I'd mess up here and blow it there. Time went on and I couldn't escape the feeling that I had to know more about this God with whom i made that first feeble attempt to connect to. Interestingly enough, it was during this time that I seemed to meet all sorts of Christians: those who handed out tracts on the street, Jehovah's Witnesses, family friends, even people from overseas who i didn't know but knew me through the tract-distributors! But through all that I didn't get the answers i was looking for. I had so many questions that I forgot what the original question was to begin with. Every question seemed like a trigger for another one: Who is God? What did Jesus have to do with Him? What does it mean when people say that He died for our sins? Why did He do it? The last 2 were the ones I really wanted to know the answers to but couldn't comprehend any given at the time.
My efforts to seek Him were not overlooked. When I was 13, I prayed hard one night. That God would send me a bible because it might be the only place I could get a proper answer. So not long after, He did just that. I met John McDowell on my way to the library while he was handing out tracts on the street across from Westfield, Parramatta. It wasn't until years later that I found out that day stood out to him. Because at the time (the year 2000, aka Year of the Olympics in Sydney) he would be in the city each day handing out tracts. But on that particular day, an officer asked him to leave and go somewhere else. Aside from that day, he'd never had any problems doing that quiet little work for God there so he was quite surprised. Nonetheless he decided to go to Parramatta, which was where he met me. And from the address on the tract that he gave me, I wrote to him for a bible (I don't know why this idea didn't occur to me before or that they might even sell the bible at any one of the many bookstores in Westfield). All i knew was that, I was compelled to write to him and to my surprise he wrote back with my precious bible. But one problem that cropped up was not so much the language (I did understand the bulk of what I read despite it being written in old English, I suspect because I prayed for understanding); it was that, with so much to read, how was I ever going to reach the answer I needed?
So for a time I neglected reading the bible. Then a year later in 2001, I was amazed when John and his wife Olive turned up at my door, and all the way from Queensland as well! I had no idea they would still remember me. They told me that they were conducting a series of talks on the bible at Lidcombe and asked whether I would be interested in going. Well, with nothing else to do and questions that wouldn't leave me alone I went. And there they were finally answered. What kept me going there to begin with was not so much the message, but the warmth of the people. They were so patient and willing to answer my interminable questions that it more or less answered that deep hunger within me to feel 'real presence'. I didn't know much about real presence until i met them. Whenever I was with them, I felt like their mind was really there and not somewhere else waiting to tick off something on their to-do-list, but listening, caring and willing to bear with me til' I finished. That presence was but a shadow of the best yet to come. I don't remember the exact day or night I accepted Jesus as my saviour, but I did know that the longer I went there, the more questions were answered. And over time, the ones that couldn't be answered didn't seem to matter so much anymore.
Though I remember one question that I really wrestled with, was the issue of faith. I had faith, but didn't think I had enough to get me into heaven. In Matthew 17:20, Jesus said that faith the size of a mustard seed (which is pretty tiny) can move a mountain. But i had this visual image of a great gulf between Christ and i. And in that picture, I imagined Jesus asking me to step out towards Him and that my level of faith would determine whether a bridge would form under my feet and sustain my weight across. Well, from that sort of mental test, I just didn't think I had enough. I feared that i would probably fall if I tried to cross, because I didn't know if I believed enough. I shared that with Olive, and she said something I never forgot: it's not how much faith you have but who you have your faith in that will determine your destination. And that settled the question.
So for me it was a gradual process until one day, there was no question about it. I became a believer:) I accepted the fact that I had sins that couldn't be overlooked and that they were a very real barrier between God and me. That the way He dealt with the sin problem was by sending His son Jesus Christ, into this world to take the punishment as our substitute. That even though He died for the world, only those who accept Him as their own saviour will have their sins covered, and be with Him in the end. That salvation doesn't depend on whether i feel like i'm saved or not, but whether i believe God's words and trust Him to keep His promises. That trust in Christ is a personal choice - noone else can make it for me. And that He did it all, because He loves me... So the next logical step in my path of obedience to Him was baptism. The breaking of bread on Sundays was something i understood less than anything else so it wasn't for a long time until i finally considered it but once I grasped what it symbolized, and that it was part of God's will for His children, I took that step too when I was nearly 18.
So now, at the age of 22, and looking back, I can say with wonder & gratitude that the Lord is indeed gracious, faithful and wonderful beyond all imagination. In the spirit of Psalm 27:10, when my father and my mother forsook me, the LORD took me up. He has placed me in a loving Christian home, my youngest brother has professed salvation, and a few other members of my family want to know God better. My prayers for healing between my mother and I are seeing results and my beloved grandparents have also heard the gospel. My dad left in my final year of high school and I haven't heard from him since, but I continue to pray for him, hoping for his safe return to the Father of fathers, and that we may meet again if not here, then in the air!
And now, as I continue my studies in nursing (which was another answer to prayer), I look forward to knowing the Lord better, loving Him deeper and seeing Him clearer as the day approaches when we will meet, never to part again. Until then, His Word will be 'a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path.' - Psalm 119:105, casting forth enough light always, to see where to take the next step in a dark world.
YUMIN LIANG