CHAPTER 13

TAY NINH PROVINCE, MY BROTHER’S HOME

GOING TO MY NEW GOD

JANUARY 1983

I was on my way from Saigon to Tay Ninh, where my entire family was gathering to attend the worship ceremony for Tet, the morning of the first day of the Lunar New Year. Ma was traveling from Trang Bang along with many of our extended relatives. I was eager to see my loved ones, even though I knew this visit would be different from all the others.

As was customary during my visits home, I was expected to attend temple, and as part of that experience, to don the official worship garments, the ceremonial white ao dai. What my family did not know until I arrived home that day was that I no longer followed Caodaism—I had given my life to the Lord Jesus Christ.

My salvation experience had happened just a few weeks before, fittingly enough on Christmas Eve. I attended a special worship service at church, and there, on the night before the world would celebrate the birth of the Messiah—a baby born in a manger in a tiny, forgotten town—I invited him, Jesus, the One and Only, into my heart. I had spent several months studying the Scriptures, choosing to use the rare moments I had enjoyed away from my minder to devour the plentiful promises of God. And oh, how they had gone down like thick chunks of guava, the delicious fruit I had enjoyed as a child.

The more I read, the more I came to believe that God—Jehovah God, the God of the Scriptures—really was who he said he was, that he really had done what he said he had done, and that, most important to me, he really would do all that he had promised in his Word. How I prayed those promises were true: Peace! And joy! Abundance and true life! If it really was so, that I could possess these things, I would surrender one thousand hearts to this Jesus, had I that many hearts to give.

On Christmas Eve, Pastor Ho Hieu Ha began his remarks to the congregation with a question. “What year is it?” he asked. We glanced at each other uneasily, knowing the obvious answer but believing it must be a trick question.

“What year is it?” he asked again, this time with a hearty laugh, motioning with his hands as if to say “Come on, tell me!” “Nineteen eighty-two!” one bold soul finally shouted out. “Nineteen eighty-two! Nineteen eighty-two!” we all joined in.

“Yes!” Pastor Ho Hieu Ha said. “Correct. Now, tell me this: Why is it 1982?”

We were sure this was another trick. Nobody said a word.

Pastor Ho Hieu Ha thankfully let us off the hook. “It is 1982,” he said, “because nineteen hundred and eighty-two years have passed since the Messiah came to earth. The whole reason we even have a thing called years is that God chose to send his beloved Son to us. That event—the Incarnation—was so significant an occurrence that humankind decided to mark time according to it. Each time you write the date—on a check, on correspondence, on your day’s calendar—you are acknowledging that point in history when Jesus Christ came to dwell among us. You are honoring the event that quite literally split time.”[12]

Pastor Ho Hieu Ha continued. “This Christmas occasion is not about the gifts we carefully wrap and give to each other as much as it is about one Gift in particular, who was wrapped in human flesh and given from God to us. The Gift is Jesus, his only Son. He is our greatest Gift.”

I listened carefully to the pastor, knowing in my heart that something was shifting inside of me. I had read the entire Holy Bible, and Thuy had answered my most pressing questions. I had faithfully worshiped with other believers in Jesus. And now I was ready to follow God.

At the conclusion of Pastor Ho Hieu Ha’s sermon, he said, “If you are here among us this evening and you have never invited Jesus Christ to be Lord of your life, I would like for you to consider doing so here and now. The Bible says that baby Jesus grew up and lived a perfect life. The Bible says that he then willingly died on a Roman cross, serving as a sacrifice for your sin and mine. The Bible says that Jesus rose from the dead three days later, proving his power over death. And the Bible says that the only thing we need to do in order to obtain full, unencumbered, and eternal access to the One True God is to confess with our mouths and believe in our hearts that Jesus Christ is Lord. If anyone sitting here today shall open his or her heart to this Jesus, then Jesus will come to you, and bring you peace, and remove all burdens from your life.”

This was exactly what I had gleaned from my reading of the Holy Scriptures too! Yes!

I nearly jumped out of my seat then and there. How desperately I needed peace. How ready I was for love and joy. I have so much hatred in my heart, I thought. This burden of bitterness is too heavy to bear. I wanted forgiveness for my transgressions. I wanted to let go of all my pain. I wanted to pursue life instead of holding fast to fantasies of death. I wanted this Jesus.

When Pastor Ho Hieu Ha finished speaking, I had already stood up, stepped out into the aisle, and made my way to the front of the sanctuary to say yes to Jesus Christ. “Yes, you are my Savior now! You are my Father, and I am your child.” Thuy was still standing in the row where we had been sitting next to each other, and when she lifted her head from prayer and opened her eyes, she noticed that I had disappeared. Scanning the room, she located me at the altar. “Yes! You did it!” she mouthed, her fists joyously pumping the air. After the service, Thuy and I were reunited, and as she reached for both of my hands, I met her gaze with tears. “Thuy,” I said, “thank you for praying for me and for loving me. You are a great, great blessing in my life.”

“You will always know peace now,” Thuy said to me, as she wrapped me up in a hug.

When I woke up on Christmas morning 1982, I experienced my first-ever heartfelt celebration of the birth of Jesus Christ.

If only my ma could see my side of the story. Ma, I am finally at peace!

During that Tet celebration, I felt out of place in the temple for the first time in my life. While everyone else was dressed in their white ao dai, I was wearing street clothes. Each time I was presented with ceremonial food honoring the CaoDai gods, I shook my head and declined.

The people who had been teaching me about God indicated that by engaging in practices that honor idols, I could not only put myself in spiritual jeopardy, but also I could wrongly influence others who might otherwise come to the saving knowledge of faith in Jesus Christ.[13] As I passed trays piled high with delicious candied fruits, steamed square cakes, sticky rice, and boiled chicken, I considered each step an act of faith—of my new faith in Jesus Christ. He would find a different way to nourish me, a way that did not involve consuming tainted foods.

My actions got my ma’s attention. She approached me and whispered passionately, “Phuc! You must eat something!”

“It is not for me now, Ma,” I said. “My new faith disallows such foods!”

“Then you are no longer my daughter,” she spat her words at me, her religious devotion fueling her rage.

I was already on my way out of the building as those words came out of my ma’s mouth, hot tears stinging my eyes. “I am ashamed to call you my child!” Ma shouted. “You will pay for this, Phuc!” she screamed.

I could not blame my ma for being angry. Exactly one year before, Ma had observed me making my declaration to follow CaoDai all my life. Ma was part of the official ceremony in the Trang Bang temple that signified my intentions. As I lay facedown on the marble-tiled floor, seeing every scratch and streak I had memorized more than a decade before, Ma initiated the vow of allegiance I repeated, pledging myself fully and completely to the religion of my grandparents and my parents. When the formalities were concluded, Ma’s face boasted the widest of smiles. So much had changed in my heart in a year’s time. Ma was mystified by my decision, believing I was far smarter than this.

I walked around Tay Ninh while the rest of the ceremony was conducted at the temple, but as night fell, I headed to my brother’s home, where my family was gathered for Tet’s first-evening feast. Ma was calmer, probably hoping that I had come to my senses and was ready to return to her, to family, to CaoDai. But this was not the case. Again I declined the Tet foods, and again, Ma was incensed.

“Phuc, you have never been a bad child to us, but this . . . this is worse than bad. It is the worst thing you could possibly do. Should you continue to deny CaoDai, you will ruin not only your life here on earth but also your opportunity to be in heaven with us.

“We must stay together, Phuc!” Ma implored me. “Do you not see how important that is?”

“I do, Ma! I do!” I said to her. “This is why I pray to Jesus that you, too, will be saved!”

It was as if I had raised a loaded gun to Ma’s aching heart and pulled the trigger at point-blank range.

“Phuc!” she cried out, enraged. “This God of yours? You go to him now. You go get your rice from him.”

I left immediately, knowing I was now considered a dissident, and dissidents never returned. In CaoDai, they were treated as dead. I boarded the bus headed for Saigon, having no idea how I now would survive. Ma had always supported me financially, but she had made her position crystal clear. I could no longer come to her for food, for clothing, for books. She would no longer pay my tuition fees at the language school. She would no longer pay my hospital bills whenever I became ill. Within twenty-four hours, my father and my siblings, the neighbors in Tay Ninh, and friends and family back in Trang Bang would know from Ma that I had gone from being one beloved to one banished. I was “no longer” in their eyes.

As the bus ambled along Route 1, I thought briefly about Jesus’ reminder to his disciples that their allegiance to him would often involve letting other allegiances fall—even to loved ones, even to dads and moms.[14] I was momentarily comforted by that and then the practical reality gripped me. The bus fare had cost me thirty-thousand dong. I still had a little bit of money from Ma’s most recent stipend, but it would only last me so long. Oh, Jesus, you must help me! I prayed silently, there in my seat. Looking back on the experience now, I like to imagine him grinning and nodding his head. “I see your faith, my child, Kim Phuc, and though it is small, it is sufficient and real. You remain beloved to me and will always be such. I will care for you each of your days.”

How I hoped he would be true to his word.