10 Stories of Ten Years in Taiwan: Story #1

A Winter Morning in Harbin, China

On a cold winter morning in Harbin, China, my wife and I stepped off the bus, the snow crunching beneath our feet as we walked toward the church. The sky was white and grey, mirroring the buildings around us, but today was a special day. It was Easter Sunday morning, and we expected to see our house church filled with new guests.

Even before we saw the police cars, a chill ran deeper than the cold air, hinting at the trouble waiting for us. As we rounded the corner, I saw them—several police cars lined up across the street from the church. Unlike the other cars covered in a layer of snow, these police cars looked warm, as though their engines had been idling for some time. I knew what this meant, though I couldn’t foresee the full extent of what would unfold in the coming moments and months.

I turned to my wife and motioned to the police cars, asking her if she still wanted to go in. She was pregnant with our oldest son, who is now ten years old. It was a question of whether to turn around and avoid the inevitable confrontation, preserving our chance to start a new church in another city, or to stand with God’s people, regardless of the cost. We had just made plans to leave that city to begin a new church elsewhere. Did we want to start trouble now and forfeit our chance to start a new work?

Taking my wife’s hand, we prayed together briefly about what to do. I whispered, “Do you still want to go in?” My breath was visible in the frosty air.  “Yes,” she replied. “We need to be with God’s people.”

We descended the icy steps, entering what would be our second-to-last church service in China.

The meeting place was filled up, with many guests there for the first time on this Easter Sunday. I looked into the face of the Chinese pastor and could tell he, too, had seen the police cars outside. We began the service as usual, singing to the Lord. For a moment, I dared to hope, “Perhaps we will get through this day without any trouble!”

But as the Chinese pastor stood up to preach, the basement door opened, and twenty police officers entered, walking down the steps into our meeting place. They moved up and down the aisle, taking pictures of some and filming others. The air felt thick with tension as we watched them, wondering what would happen next. After several moments, their leader took the pulpit and announced that our church gathering was illegal. Everyone was arrested and required to hand over their identification.

My wife and I were separated from the group, taken by police to our home in a patrol car. There, they went through our belongings, searching every corner. As they searched, I tried to engage one of the officers in conversation, my mind racing with the implications of what was happening. After they had finished their search, we were escorted to the police station for interrogation.

My wife was taken from me to another room while I was led into the interrogation room alone. I sat there, facing my interrogators, answering questions for several hours. At one point, one of the officers asked, “What do you teach?”

By this time, my Chinese was good enough to explain. “We teach about Jesus,” I said, “how He died for the sins of the world, and how we are here to share the good news of the gospel.” My words hung in the air, a silent challenge in a place where those words were not welcome.

After the interrogations, we were placed under house arrest for ten days. It was a time of uncertainty, prayer, and preparation for what we knew might come next. When the ten days were over, we were deported from China. But instead of returning home, we took a step of faith and visited Taiwan, seeking a new opportunity to preach about Jesus there.

Reflecting on those days, we are reminded that each step taken in faith is guided by God’s hand, leading us into a future we cannot yet see but trust in His will. God is good and has allowed us to minister in Taiwan for ten years. We thank God for His protection and the direction of our steps!