My parents emigrated from Taiwan in the 1980s. In Taiwan, the primary religions are Buddhism, Taoism, and various folk religions; so needless to say, I was raised without any Christian influence. I was born in Santa Clara, California in 1991, and raised in the Silicon Valley where my father was an engineer at the time.
The first time I ever heard about Jesus was probably through a very faithful, elderly, Chinese single woman who lived next door. Every Christmas Eve from when I was around four years old, she would knock on our door and bring gifts to my brother and me. Every year, the gifts were the same – stories about a little baby boy named Jesus born in Bethlehem two thousand years ago. I thought these were just stories back then, and it wasn’t until must later that I heard more about this man called Jesus.
Even though both my parents were culturally Buddhist, they decided to send me to a Christian school for 4th grade because of its close proximity and good moral teaching. I remember praying in class, singing worship songs in chapel, memorizing Bible verses, and of course being asked by my teacher if I would like to pray the sinner’s prayer and accept Jesus as my Lord and Savior. I had no idea what any of this meant at the time and why I even needed a Savior, but I raised my hand and prayed the sinner’s prayer with my teacher regardless, thinking that I might as well do it so that if I did get into trouble, I would have a Savior ready! I only stayed at the Christian school for two years until I moved south to the countryside. I had no more exposure to Christianity after leaving the school, and except for a Bible on my shelf, there was no evidence that the news of Jesus had ever entered my life.
In 8th grade, my last year of middle school, my parents decided to send me to another Christian school because of the lack of good schools in the surrounding area. They would have to drive 45 minutes every day to get me there, but they considered it worthwhile. During that year, I was taking mandatory Bible classes about Christian doctrine, and realizing for the first time what Christianity really had to say about love, family, relationships, money, life, suffering, death, and where I stood in the middle of everything. I decided then that I had made a good choice to follow Jesus in 4th grade since His teachings were sound and good, in the same way that I felt I had made a good choice to bring an umbrella with me when the weather was rainy. It was simply a nice, comforting thought and nothing more. Despite learning all about the Old Testament, New Testament, apologetics, ethics, doctrine, and discipline, I left my Christian high school still having no idea who Jesus is. Being told that He had died for my sins was like being told that sometime somewhere my life was in danger but I didn’t know it, and some stranger sacrificed his own life to save mine. Other than a duty to feel gratitude towards this stranger, sing some songs to him, and pay my respects once a week, I felt nothing because he was just a stranger. I knew I was supposed to love Jesus because He loved me, and I knew so much about Him through my education. Yet somehow, I didn’t know Him, didn’t think that I didn’t know Him, and didn’t feel the need to start thinking about any of this because it simply wasn’t important. I graduated as the valedictorian from my high school convinced that I had everything I needed. I had my entire life planned out. I was going to do well in college, become a doctor, and heal people while living a comfortable life with a family of my own. That was the kind of life I saw many Christians lead, and I was under the impression that Jesus died so we could be nice people. It wasn’t until my first year of college that I finally realized how mistaken I was.
I had no interest in attending a church upon entering UCLA believing it would distract from my studies, but I met a friend who ended up dragging me along to Bread of Life’s (the church I now attend) praise night. I remember feeling tired and impatient at having to stand during worship for such a long period of time, but I also remember the warm hospitality of the community of believers who welcomed me. Although I had no intention of becoming a regular churchgoer, their invitations to fellowship, service, small group, and Bible study week after week brought me out before God again. My first few months in college were discouraging since I set really high standards of performance for myself in high school, and I wasn’t meeting those same standards completely at UCLA. Since my identity was entirely wrapped around my level of performance in academia, I felt depressed, and the more I compared myself to others, the more I hated myself. I would frequently be with my friends and make the entire conversation about myself and how I was fat, ugly, stupid, or a failure. I was so self-absorbed as I felt like my world was crumbling down, and I sought reassurance from everyone that I was not any of the things I believed myself to be. Unfortunately, no matter how often people reassured me I could never believe them. It was as if I had a black hole in my heart, and no matter how many things people threw in there or I tried to put in myself, it would never be filled. I would need more and more after each time to feel okay again, but only for a little while. Once the next quarter rolled around, I was tired of trying to fight so hard only to be knocked down over and over again. There was always going to be someone better, and I had no idea why I tried so hard and wanted so badly to succeed.
After some urging from my brothers and sisters within the fellowship, I decided to sign up for the college winter retreat. The week of the retreat, I was walking on campus at night and a man named Gideon came up to me asking if I wanted to study the Bible. At first, I was of course suspicious and asked for more information about his church and ministry before I made a decision. Once I got home and looked up the information about his church, I was at least reassured that he wasn’t a part of a cult. Surprisingly, I agreed to study the Bible with Gideon in Powell Library. The first study I did was John 1:1, “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” During the study, Scripture came alive to me in a way I never experienced before. As I was struggling with identity and purpose, here was a God who was alive and here in the beginning. His very existence was Truth, and this Truth became flesh so we could encounter Him with us – Immanuel – and see for the first time how to be fully human, made to bear the image of a Creator who is love. That first Bible study got me thinking, and the retreat that took place over the weekend finally made me realize that I was not a Christian no matter how much I knew about Christianity and no matter how much I believed in the facts of the Gospel. What I was beginning to understand was that the Gospel was God – Jesus Christ in flesh, and I had not known Him or been in a relationship with Him. Coming to this realization was refreshing, and despite appearing to have taken one step backwards, my heart was ready for truth to penetrate and love to consume.
As I studied more passages in Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, I became captivated by Jesus and the beauty of this big, perfect God who had made Himself so small to be with such imperfect people, and for what? Nothing but a lonely death of suffering on the cross in order to bring us to salvation and redemption before the Father, and intimacy with the Holy Spirit. Jesus didn’t die so we could be good people. He died so we could be set free from sin to truly live by enjoying Him! The veil was torn. I had encountered Jesus and I surrendered everything to worship Him. To this day, there is no place I’d rather be than in humbled position to sing of His praises. The fire was ignited and I began to burn, telling everyone around me about Jesus and what He had done in my life, hoping that they would know Him too. I got baptized on Easter Sunday that year, on 4/4/10, thinking that in line with the number four sounding like the Chinese word for “death,” I was dead. Now I was called to a new type of death, except this time, it was death redefined by Jesus. Just like His death on the cross was the way to the victory of the resurrection, this death I was called to daily was the way to life – the man who loses his life saves it. So one “4” that day to remind me that I was dead, and the other “4” to remind me that Jesus conquered death by His resurrection, and that I was to die daily for as long as I followed him in light of the glory beyond this world. This next part might be totally crazy, but even if it is all just a coincidence, it’s a crazy good one. I was 4 years old when I first heard about Jesus through my neighbor, and I was in 4th grade when I prayed the sinner’s prayer in 2000. 4 years later, I was in 8th grade (4+4) and 14 years old (4+10) when I went back to Christian school. 10 years after I prayed the sinner’s prayer, I got baptized in 2010 when I was 18 years old (4+4+10). On 4/4/10, God’s faithfulness was evident to me. He had been pulling me into His love, writing my story, and I had no idea of the reaches of this love the entire time. I still have no idea, as I find it impossible to plumb the depths of this glorious God who had planned everything in the beginning. Since then, life has been harder in so many ways, but easier in the important ones. I know who I am, why I’m here, and where I’m going. I may not know the full extent of sin and brokenness in my soul the Father is still trying to work through and refine, but I know it is for my good because He is always good. As much as it hurts and breaks me, I am actually becoming more complete in Him. My time at Bread of Life Church has grown my soul immensely in a faith that leads to obedience. There is still so much to experience in my walk with Jesus, and still so much of Jesus to know and understand, but:
"When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,?
When sorrows like sea billows roll;?
Whatever my lot, /Thou has taught me to say,?
It is well, it is well, with my soul”
-It Is Well with My Soul (Horatio G. Spafford)
In 2014, another 4 years since my baptism, 8 (4+4) years since I re-entered Christian school, 14 (4+10) years from when I prayed the sinner’s prayer, and 18 (4+4+10) years since I first heard about Jesus, I hope to be starting a new chapter in my spiritual life on this one-year mission trip!
