Gospel Lilprep 
My Greatest Rebellion
Paul said, āJews demand signs and Greeks look for wisdom, but we preach Christ crucified.ā I know that this short-term suffering will ultimately turn into eternal grace, but if Iām honest with myself, am I truly willing to bear the cross? Am I really a Christian?
When I was back home, family and relatives asked me why I believe in Christianity. I replied that Iāve already figured it out, that Christ is the only ultimate truth, so naturally, I should completely submit to him.
Then almost every one of them, my mother, my uncles, would immediately put on an air of truth experts, adamantly declaring to me, āTruth lies in the hands of those in power,ā āHistory is written by the victors.ā They wore expressions of pride, as if they were the āpowerfulā and āvictoriousā ones who held the truth and history in their hands.
I listened and then coldly replied, āThe so-called rulers and victors will also die.ā And then I secretly thought to myself, that foolish ruler who torments these people, making them curse and mock in private, is truly the retribution they justify for themselves. God lets a great evildoer rule over a group of lesser evildoers, itās only fair.
But the Jesus I submit to, he was not in palaces and temples, but in the manger, marketplaces, wilderness, seas, in prisons, on the cross. He endured hunger, had no clothes, was hunted, slandered, expelled, betrayed, whipped, spat on, crowned with thorns, had his arms torn, hands and feet nailed, pierced in the sideā¦ He was an absolute failure in your value judgment, yet he conquered death; He is the cornerstone of the AD calendar, the primary driving force in human history, with the largest and most elite followers.
He loves people above all. I can make mistakes and repent, because He has given me grace and redemption. I donāt have to worry about āone misstep haunting for a thousand years,ā so I donāt need to be as proud and self-righteous as they are.
Thatās the King I would choose to submit to, so I just donāt deserve being trapped among these people, tormented along with the rulers they chose.
Yet when I take Christās love as my reference, they and the rulers they chose have actually prepared the most appropriate cross for me. The problem lies only with meāI am not willing to bear this cross like He did, at least not yet.
Sometimes I also replied to relatives, āI donāt know why, I just believed from a young age.ā Thatās also the fact. I used to try to rationalize my conversion to others, but I was just forcing it.
Did it stem from praying all night after being beaten by my stepmother at 15? Did it stem from escaping Confucianism, Taoism, and Buddhism to theology when avoided adults? Did it stem from my parentsā divorce drama pushing my skepticism of human nature to the extreme? Did it stem from liking some classical music pieces adapted by choirs and then researching online?
Maybe none of those. I found extensive thoughts on death and sacrifice on the cross in diaries I wrote when I turned ten. I donāt remember where those thoughts came from.
Maybe even earlier, when I was a few years old, every time I passed by the Catholic church near the hospital, I felt a strange longing. It was a Gothic-style ancient building, dilapidated but beautiful. It was very small, probably less than one-fifth the size of the adjacent United Front Work Department office building, with a statue of the Virgin Mary standing in front, hidden in the weeds. The courtyard was surrounded by iron fences, the gate was always locked, and I never saw anyone.
Only once did I sneak in and met an old man sweeping out from the main building, so I asked if I could visit. He said there was nothing interesting in the office building and told me to go directly to that small church. I carefully looked at each painting depicting the road to Golgotha on the walls, then sat on the bench and looked up at the dome, and stared at the altar for a while. I donāt remember what I was thinking at that time.
That is the earliest experience I can recall. After the Opium War in 1860, China and Britain signed treaties so that missionaries came to this inland area and this small church was built. After the year 2000, a curious little girl finally walked into this church. Lord, there is your favor for this land in history, and there is your love in the series of events in my life. Itās just that I always realized it too late, failed too many times.
After 1860, missionaries came to spread the gospel among the people, and in 1900, they encountered the massacre of the Boxer Rebellion. I can imagine the conflicts they faced being tense, but itās hard to imagine the courage they had to face martyrdom. Not to mention the persecution suffered by native Christians after 1949 and during the Cultural Revolution, when the environment was far more brutal than it is now.
Iām very aware that Iām no different from the other Chineseāonly care about indulging in the present, idolize bureaucratic power, and live in the satisfaction of taste buds. If I continue to stay in this country, continue to compromise unknowingly, keep deceiving myself and then regretting alone, I will definitely break down in the end.
Itās much better to just fight this trap sharply head-on, and knowing that Iām just like everyone else makes it harder to give up upon them. Since our predecessors paid a high price for todayās faith environment, we must of course devote ourselves more to the Gospel. But I have to admit that I simply donāt want to stay here any longer.
I still cling to this fleeting world, I want a peaceful life, a family, a husband, children, I want freedom and a little heaven on earth. Lord, if the cross for me is to charge and martyr for your glory in this country, then so far I havenāt been able to carry it.
I donāt know when I will be able to do it in the future, or if I can do it at all. China has been my everyday nightmare, Peter denying the Lord three times has been my norm.
Lord, I still donāt love You, nor am I motivated to love the natural neighbor you have given me. Love is patient, I dare not shamelessly ask You to continue to be patient with me when I donāt love You. I already know Iām proud and hypocritical, filled with greed, lacking in compassion and justice, yet I still donāt accept being saved by God. What do I, someone like me, have to plead for?
But I absolutely do not want to be renounced. So Lord, I still beg You to give me patience and guidance, allowing this clumsy daughter to realize later again.
