14

Confucian ethics teach that marriage is a social duty more than a way to satisfy one’s individual desires. Therefore, dating in China was laden with expectations from the start. Both women and men expected a dating relationship would lead to marriage, so people didn’t “shop around” to find their so-called soul mate. Relationships were undertaken with the utmost sobriety, and I had no doubt: Heidi would be my wife.

Of course, her parents weren’t so sure. Especially her father. When Heidi first disclosed our relationship to him, he didn’t believe I could provide for her, and consequently for her parents, like another man possibly could. Because of his wrongful imprisonment during the Cultural Revolution, he was more dependent on her future than he otherwise would’ve been—a fact that motivated me to study late into the night during college. Once I got to Beijing, however, Heidi’s father was satisfied with my occupational trajectory, though I was hardly a safe bet. After all, he was well aware of my involvement in the student protests, and he knew firsthand how harsh the government could be.

With his tentative blessing, Heidi and I also seemed to overcome the natural problems associated with long-distance relationships. Most of our arguments came from her testing me to make sure my intentions were true. After all, I was earning my education in the capital city, which seemed so glamorous compared to her life back in her province. She was earning next to nothing, while I was preparing for a lucrative job. Though I assured her otherwise, she couldn’t help but wonder if I’d stick with her. When I realized the source of her insecurity, I began to understand the underlying cause of our fighting. I wrote her a letter almost every day assuring her of my love, and I eagerly anticipated her replies.

Of course, we needed a bit more than romantic letters. For the three years I was in graduate school, we made sure to see each other at least once or twice a semester. Most of the time, I took trains to visit her. However, when I went to see my family, she would take the bus to my hometown to see me there. I also visited her during the summer and winter breaks.

Even though we were not Christians when we began dating, we both now had God in our lives. He gently showed us where we were selfish and childish. Through the work of the Holy Spirit, we changed. Over time, our relationship began to be more peaceful, and I was thankful to have a strong, feisty woman like Heidi. This would come in handy many times throughout our lives.

There was never a moment when I asked Heidi to marry me. Marriage, however, was always a part of the backdrop of our relationship. We talked about our wedding and where we might live, but there was no dramatic proposal, tears of joy, or gigantic ring. Though it might not sound romantic to Western ears, our life together was not proffered as some sort of possibility that could either be accepted or denied. Our relationship was set in stone, established, and secured from the beginning. It might not be the kind of romance Hollywood would make a movie about, but there’s something wonderfully intoxicating about surrendering to one’s romantic destiny.

In other words, we knew we were going to get married. The only question was when.

Graduate school had not been the easiest road. Though my spiritual walk grew every day, I feared the authorities would swoop in and arrest me. For what? That didn’t matter. I knew they could, and possibly would. Though my roommates were initially terrified at being questioned by the police, they soon loosened up. My roommates’ conversations around the dorm may have centered on women, dirty jokes, and sex instead of God, but I was still thankful to have a pleasant living arrangement. I made sure I was more discreet in sharing my faith. This meant more peace of mind for me, but it also meant I wasn’t able to tell as many people as I wanted about Christ. Because of this tension, I made a pledge to God.

“Before graduation,” I prayed, “I want every one of my seventeen classmates in my program to hear the gospel.”

After two years, I’d not been able to pull off this endeavor. I needed an opportunity to have all of my friends in one place. What better way than to have a wedding? Frequently, people plan their weddings around the seasons, or meaningful dates, or commencement ceremonies. What about having a wedding ceremony that could not only marry us but also introduce the guests to their Savior? Heidi and I could make sure our wedding ceremony would include a clear presentation of the good news of Jesus Christ. Of course, we’d have to forgo the traditional Chinese ceremony for a more Westernized version, but if we sent out invitations to all of our classmates, they’d feel bound by politeness to attend.

Heidi was all for it, even though it meant that she’d travel to Beijing for the wedding, then immediately return home to finish out the school year. We’d be separated while she wrapped up her teaching job, but then we would be reunited in Beijing. Even though it was less than perfect timing, she also had a strong desire to spread the gospel. Plus, I like to think she was ready to become my wife! There was one problem. Technically, the wedding would be illegal because students weren’t allowed to get married while still in school. We applied for the license anyway, but the school denied my request. It was a real setback, because graduation was drawing near.

“I have an idea,” Heidi wrote me when she heard the bad news. “I have relatives who work in the government here. Come to my hometown and we can apply here. I think we can manage to get permission through a back door.”

It worked, and we excitedly started trying to find a date. We originally hoped to get married on June 6, but it was too close to June 4, the anniversary of the Tiananmen Square massacre. Every year, that anniversary brought new political tension and unrest, which could’ve posed problems for our guests coming from America, Australia, New Zealand, and Hong Kong. Consequently, we settled on June 19, just a few days before graduation.

We didn’t have a great deal of extra money set aside for a wedding. Even before we were married, I got several tutoring jobs while in Beijing to send extra cash to Heidi. Because her family was so dependent on her, she was living on less than five yuan per month (a little less than an American dollar). The rest of the salary she made as a full-time teacher she gave to her parents.

After graduation, I kept telling myself, I’ll finally be able to make real, substantial money. At the time, all university students had to work for the government after graduation in some capacity. The Communists believed it was a way for students to give back to the government as well as a way to foster loyalty to the state. But even with that restriction, graduates from my university program had their pick of jobs. Someone who could speak English fluently could easily find a job in a major corporation or a state-owned international export/import company. Since I knew English and was familiar with international trade relations, I could work for a corporation, the government, the Communist Party, or any of several other organizations. Finally, after so many years of hard work, I’d completed what I’d told my mother I’d do so many years ago. I’d waded past the low-paying teachers’ jobs, was accepted into a prestigious post-graduate program, and could cash in on my success as soon as I graduated.

As I was going through my options with James, an American professor in my Bible study group, one idea kept coming up.

“I want to work in ministry,” I said.

“There’s no such thing as ‘full-time ministry’ in China unless you’re working in the government-sanctioned church,” he replied.

“Well, that might be the case, but I want to find a job that allows me to dedicate the largest portion of my time to ministry and the smallest portion of my time to the Communist Party,” I told him. “In fact, as I was praying about my future the other day, that’s what I promised to God.”

“Then He’ll work it out,” James said, “according to His purpose.”

Since Heidi and I were getting married before I graduated, and consequently before I got a good-paying job, we had to cut corners on the ceremony. Thankfully, one of our fellowship couples represented a big company in Beijing and lived in a big apartment building that had the entire first floor dedicated to the Chinese military. The General’s Widow Building was a hotel reserved for wives of generals who’d passed away during the Chinese Communist Revolution, as a demonstration of the government’s gratitude and provision. The hotel was beautiful, expensive, and luxurious, and our Christian fellowship friends pulled some strings so that our wedding could occur there. In fact, since Heidi was still residing in her hometown, our friends planned our entire wedding. They got all kinds of free trinkets, picked out a charming skirt for Heidi, and created a beautiful floral arrangement for her bouquet. They also arranged for an older Christian lady to play the piano and got some talented musicians from a music school to accompany her. Because of their resourcefulness, I only spent $120 on the wedding. (I should never have told Heidi how little I spent, because to this day she says I still owe her!)

When the big day came, I watched from an adjacent room as one by one, my classmates filed in and took their places on the neatly arranged chairs. One, two, three, I counted. Not only was I about to join my love in matrimony, I was also about to fulfill my promise to God. Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen . . . seventeen! When every one of my classmates was present and accounted for, I was ready to get the ceremony started. Though neither Heidi’s parents nor my dad could attend due to the great distance, we had about thirty or so foreign guests. This brought our audience up to around eighty people, some of whom were unknowingly about to hear about Jesus.

We were married by Yuan Xiangchen (better known as Alan Yuan in the West), who was one of the most famous Christian dissidents in China. I could tell that my guests were excited when Yuan Xiangchen walked in. He had risen to notoriety after being arrested one April night in 1958 for refusing to join the Three Self Patriotic Movement.

Yuan had refused to join for three basic reasons. First, he believed Jesus and not a political group should be the head of the church. Second, his church had always been independent from foreign control. And third, he didn’t like the theological modernism that characterized the leaders of the Three Self Movement. Because of his refusal to join, he was charged with “counterrevolutionary” crimes and sentenced to life imprisonment. He was sent near the Russian border to a labor camp where the temperature routinely dropped to thirty degrees below zero. He was in prison for twenty-one years and eight months, most of which were spent in a freezing cold cell. He encouraged himself by singing “The Old Rugged Cross” while the other prisoners had their smoking breaks. Miraculously, he survived the ordeal without abandoning God, but he paid a hefty price for his faith and didn’t see his wife and six children for almost twenty-two years.

When he was released from prison, he went right back to having a house church, which he refused to register with the Three Self Patriotic Movement. He and his wife never compromised their faith and never stopped ministering the gospel in their home. He’d gained notoriety in China because he received much media attention from foreign correspondents. Billy Graham had even visited him and his house church.

Heidi and I had met him through an older Christian lady, Ms. Jing Huifu, who knew Pastor Yuan in Beijing. He and his wife invited us to their modest home. Their living room had a photograph of Billy Graham hanging on one wall. As we sat in that little room where so many people had come to know the Lord, they encouraged us.

“If you want to be a faithful minister and follower of Jesus in China,” he said, “you should learn prison theology.”

I nodded, though I wasn’t quite sure what he meant. “In prison,” he explained, “you find out more about God and His faithfulness than anywhere else. Jail is where God prepares His church in China.”

A chill ran over me. We’d talked to many persecuted faithful believers in China, like Pastor Yuan, Watchman Nee, Wang Mingdao, and others. We saw how people who stayed true to the Bible eventually ended up in jail. I looked at Heidi, who smiled weakly at me. I knew without even speaking to her what she was thinking. Our faith was not yet strong enough to endure that “prison theology” test, but I tucked Yuan Xiangchen’s words in my heart.

I admired his hardline stance against the government-sanctioned church, yet we attended a government-sanctioned church every Sunday. I could tell that it was filled with many Bible-believing Christians and had a pastor who was passionate about the true gospel. In fact, Pastor Yang Yudong even told young people about Jesus, even though the law prohibited the conversion of minors.

Before we left their home, Pastor Yuan and his wife told us to stay true to the gospel, and to preach it in season and out of season. We could see from their tranquil, smiling faces that they were joyful and without bitterness. Their attitudes and perseverance had a deep impact on us, and we were so blessed when he agreed to conduct our wedding ceremony.

I also invited an elder preacher who used to be in our Thursday Bible study to deliver the sermon during the wedding. Since Chinese weddings are long, somber affairs, I decided to pack it full of the gospel. The preacher got up and delivered a simple presentation of the gospel, very solemnly. By the time he sat down, I’d fulfilled my pledge to God. All of my classmates had now heard about Jesus.

After the sermon was delivered, I needed to make my pledge to Heidi. Yuan Xiangchen approached the lectern to conduct the official business of making us man and wife. Sadly, the government had spread rumors about Christianity, saying pastors had forced people into marriage. Because the Scriptures warn against being “unequally yoked,” the Communists said Christianity included the practice of “forced marriage.” In fact, many pastors were imprisoned under this false charge of forcing people into wedlock.

Communism, the government assured its citizens, gave people “freedom of marriage.” Just to make sure everyone realized our wedding was both government-approved and purely volitional, he held up the government-issued wedding certificate and read it aloud.

“According to the People’s Republic of China’s wedding law,” he read, “you are certified as a married couple.”

Afterward, we served refreshments in a beautiful area of the hotel. Normally, this is a time when the guests give gifts and give blessings to the bride and groom. And, make no mistake, people mingled, wished us well, and gave us wonderful presents. But as people ate cake and sipped punch, we also had a powerful time of evangelism.

Many of our friends had never heard the truth about Christianity, and they were processing all they had heard in the wedding ceremony.

“Have you ever heard of this ‘good news’?”

“Do you believe what they said about this Jesus?”

“How could God forgive sins?”

Right there, in a hotel dedicated to a communist military, we talked about Jesus, shared about His transformational power, and told many about how to become His followers.

As we walked out of the hotel, I grabbed Heidi’s hand . . . my wife’s hand.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve just gotten into?” I asked, playfully.

“Not really,” she responded.

Thankfully, neither of us did.