Bring Me Home

By Cai An

Parents do not have high expectations for their children;

They only hope that they often come home.

Daddy prepares the banquet,

And Mommy prepares the chatter.

On May 14 last year, two years after I came to America and right after my final exam I set out excitedly on my return visit to China. Who could have guessed that just the night before I had been in floods of tears! As the Bible puts it: Overnight I weep, but in the morning I rejoice.

I had planned to have a long sleep on the plane to get over my exhaustion after the exams, but I couldn't sleep. Replays of the events of the past few years kept coming into my mind...

The main speaker

I had accepted the Lord when I was still in China. My thoughts went back to the English class I went to where there were three Christians. At recess time, they used to sing hymns. Back then I didn't even know that these were hymns but the melodies captured my heart. Once I was even moved to tears.

But although it might have had its attractions or a certain impressiveness, the religious opium did not conquer me. Instead, I gathered together a few other classmates and every day we began to challenge the three Christians.

I had been a teacher of Chinese for seven years and was quite proud of my eloquence; and I was held in some respect by my teenage vocational school students. I used to mock the simple-mindedness of Christian logic because the Christians often argued, "Jesus Christ claimed to be God. So since he was neither insane nor a trickster He must indeed have been God!" In the light of five thousand years of rich Chinese culture this childish logic seemed extremely naive.

I often volunteered to be the main speaker for our side in the debates. The opposing side's case often appeared to have not a leg to stand on. "If Ann ever believes in the Lord, everyone else in the class will!" (Sure enough, all my sixteen classmates did eventually believe; quite a miracle in the history of the English class.) All they could do was to pray daily with our English teacher, an American Christian, remembering me in their prayers. At the time I wasn't aware of this.

One day, Ruth, their main spokesman in the debates, gave out a list of the Ten Commandments and asked us to measure ourselves against them. In order to stop her, I lied, "I keep all ten of them. I do not covet other people's property. I have never taken one piece of paper from my office!" In fact, I had taken home far more than just a piece of paper. Just the previous day another teacher and I had rationalized ourselves into dividing up the students' insurance commission between us!

Ruth laughed at my words. "Oh, so you are a righteous person then! Unfortunately, Jesus came seeking sinners, not righteous people. Healthy people don't need doctors; only sick people do. Bye, bye!"

Admitting defeat

At this I could only give in. "Oh no, I'm not a righteous person at all. Please let me stay!" Although outwardly I appeared totally happy and healthy, I knew only too clearly that deep in my heart I was not a healthy person at all. I belonged to the decaying generation who had been born under the red flag and had grown up in a honey can. My father was a high-ranking official in the army and my mother was a medical doctor. My sister, who was six years older than me, was a software engineer in the United States. I had flown through the college entrance exams and right after graduation had picked up a golden teaching job in a vocational school. I taught six hours a week and spent the rest of my time partying or fooling around. My friends and relatives had no worries about my future except that my father urged them to keep bringing me likely suitors.

But I was the only one who knew what I was really like. My heart was drifting aimlessly. It was filled with an emptiness which had been spreading right through me from the age of 14. A famous writer once said: "Life is like a beautiful robe covering ugly fleas."

Before I was 14, I used to write in my annual composition of My Dreams, "Some day I want to become a famous writer!" (At that time, being a writer was an enviable profession.) But in the rainy season of the year that I turned 14, a strange thought suddenly leapt into my little mind, that mind which had once been so full of dreams. "So what if I do become a famous writer? I will still die. Weeds grow in all graveyards, even those of famous writers."

In China, children do not discuss issues of this kind with their parents. Even to raise such subjects would be considered an act of treachery or deliberate troublemaking. So they are often suppressed. The emptiness, however, continually gnawed away at my heart like the fleas covered by the robe of life. As time went on, I studied philosophy, psychology and religion, but none of them could provide me with a cure. Now that their Jesus Christ was saying that he was the way, the truth and the life, I thought I should at least give him a try.

Three days later, I went to Ruth early in the morning and asked her to help me pray to accept the Lord. I repeated the words after Ruth and said, "I'm willing to give my whole life into your hands." Then I got nervous. How can that be? What if I can't get my life back again? I grew more and more anxious like a person suddenly feeling totally confused and lost because having just thoughtlessly signed her name on a marriage license she was not sure about the marriage after all.

Nonetheless, this was indeed the very best decision I had ever made in my life. In retrospect, I believe I should have made it earlier. If I had not had the chance of accepting the Lord while I was still in China, I would possibly have been even less likely to accept him after coming to America because of the intense pressures and competitiveness which can so distort life here. Likewise, if I had not had some training in spiritual growth in China, I could easily have fallen after coming to America. From my own experiences and observations, I believe that the churches in China have a much more solid and systematic focus on training in spiritual growth, including confession of sins and the Great Commission. This is especially true among the underground house churches. By contrast, churches in North America focus more on activities like potlucks, summer retreats or winter retreats as they care for foreign students and pass onto them the love of Christ.

This is also why testimonies from China are often live testimonies of experiences of serving in God's work, whereas those in America are thanksgiving testimonies about experiences of God's presence. This is also why in China you won't find special topics like job hunting or immigration. Here in America you won't receive a phone call like this from your pastor: "Hi. I'd like to invite you to church this evening; we're going to pray and confess all the sins we've committed during the past week." I am sure that these two different styles serve their own purposes and that God always ensures the most appropriate arrangement for everybody.

An urgent prayer

I began my intensive Bible study during the winter break of the year after I accepted the Lord. It was Chinese New Year's Eve. Fireworks were crackling outside the window but they failed to distract me at all. Again and again I was struck by the wonderful words in the Bible and would cry out with joy!

I stared out at the night sky. Just the clear moon and a few cold stars. The same scene in the past would have plunged me into a nostalgic melancholy. But this time my spirit was open. All I felt was that "the heavens declare the glory of God and the skies proclaim the work of his hands." I realized that when you believe Heaven comes into your heart. I called Ruth, "I am really ashamed that I used to dream of being a writer before I had even had a chance to read the Bible."

Then an urgent thought came into my mind. I really loved my parents. Now that I believed that all God's words were true, how could I bear to go to heaven one day only to see my parents being tormented in the unquenchable fire? The more I thought about it, the more my heart ached. I wept and silently prayed to God, "If that's what's to happen, I'd rather lay down my life if only my parents would come to your name. Please help me."

I knew my parents loved me more than their very lives. If I was prepared to lay down my life for their salvation, they would surely give in. I knew this was not a good way to share the Gospel, but the loving Heavenly Father had compassion on my little faith. Within a year, my parents, my grandmother, my two aunts and my cousins had all become God's children. God's blessings were so much greater than I could have imagined!

When I first tried to share the Gospel with them, I had worried about my father, who was so heavily influenced by atheism that he might refuse to listen. My mother, on the other hand, had a family background which was disapproved of by the Communist Party. So I decided to start with my mother. One day when she was sick in bed I tried to explain to her about my faith in the Lord. To my surprise she said, "That sounds good. When I was young, I went off to medical school in Wuhan all on my own. When I fell ill I couldn't afford to see a doctor, but a church-affiliated hospital admitted me. I have always believed their God is a good god. I want to believe in Him too." How I rejoiced!

As for my father, God worked wonderfully in him to soften this proletarian revolutionary fighter. And that in itself is another long story.

I came to America

In September 1997, I came to America with an F-2 visa. Before I came here, I was quite nervous. I had studied Chinese in college for four years and taught Chinese for seven years. You can see how limited my English must have been. Whatever would I be able to do here?

Before I left, the brothers and sisters in the church gave me a cassette tape in which were a few words that greatly comforted me: "When you believe in the Lord, the whole world becomes a large family. No matter where you go, you are merely going from one room to another. You can never walk out of the loving sight of God."

So I came to America carrying these words in my heart. But I still had to face reality. The university that my husband was in required minimum scores of between 590 and 600 for TOEFL. After three months of intensive preparation, I only scored 530. I was very disappointed and said to God, "Isn't it true that you chose me even before I came out of my mother's womb? Isn't it true that you have a wonderful plan for me? So why did you make me spend four years in college studying Chinese and another seven years teaching Chinese? My English would have been a lot better if I had not wasted those eleven years."

Man's extremity is God's opportunity. I came to God and asked for help and God was faithful. I continued to study hard until April of 1998, when I finally passed the TOEFL test and was enrolled in the graduate program of Instructional Technology in the field of Internet. I had to take a lot of undergraduate courses in computer science, and this was quite difficult for me because I had had very little training in science and technology. But God's blessings to me have been abundant. Up till now, I have been able to maintain a GPA of 3.91.

Another hurdle for me was tuition! A scholarship was out of the question in the Education Department. So I had to start looking in other departments. Even before I enrolled in the graduate school, the Far East Department had been intending to hire a teaching assistant in Chinese language.

I prayed to God, "I know I won't be able to get this job, but please give me the chance of an interview." At that time, I was not yet a graduate student nor had I taken an English oral test. I was not qualified, but God answered my prayer anyway. I got an interview.

It was a short interview, but it played an important part in my application for the same position the next year. The department chairman told me that because of my strong background in Chinese he would consider giving me the job the following year. In early spring this year one of my Mexican friends insisted on hiring me to be her son's Chinese teacher because of my Chinese background and teaching experience. And the pay was quite good too. Then I remembered my complaints to God about my "too much Chinese background", and I couldn't help laughing at myself.

After I had signed the employment agreement with the Far East Department, I joyfully booked an air ticket to return to China for a visit. Then came another hurdle. Three days before I was scheduled to go back to China, the department chairman informed me that my employment agreement had not gone through because I had not taken the oral test. If I failed the test, I would most certainly not be employed!

For three days I ran around like crazy till finally, tired and weeping, I threw myself into the arms of the Lord. I opened my heart to Him; I confessed my sins; with my husband, I prayed my longest prayer ever. A scholar once said, "Sufferings are the channels through which God speaks to me." How true this was!

The next morning I received my oral test result. I couldn't stop my tears: I had passed! Oh Lord, who am I to deserve such rich blessings from you? I remember I was penniless when I first came to America. I used to find it hard to offer even a couple of coins to God, like the poor widow in the Bible. But God had given me a thousand times more.

Epilogue: Going home

I was home! At last!

In the evening my whole family read the Bible together. And we prayed for my sister too. At the end my parents laid their hands on me and gave me their blessing. We were all enfolded in the love of God.

During the day, I chatted with my parents. My dad often brought up these verses from a song: "Parents do not have high expectations for their children. They only hope that they can often come home. Daddy prepares the banquet and Mommy prepares a bunch of chatter." These simple lines touched me. Doesn't our Heavenly Father have the same expectations of us? Oh how He longs for us to enter His doors with faith and step into His gate with prayer!

The author came from Changsha. She now lives in Kansas, United States.