My great uncle asked me to write about my recent experience. This is also my wish; I will begin from the 50s.

In the 50s, I was a "Judas" in the 70s, I became a true disciple of Christ. As for the drastic changes that took place in between, I long for the day when I can freely share them publicly, and make it known to all that Christ offers the chance for repentance, even to a "Judas." The precious blood shed by Christ could even have cleansed all the sins of the real Judas had he been willing to repent. My sin was no less, but I was reckoned righteous by God because I received Christ, whom Judas sold, as my Savior.

I earnestly beseech you, my friends, who have betrayed the Lord and betrayed friends as I have done, do not follow Judas down the path of destruction. Return and kneel with me before Christ. Carry the cross and follow Him.

I remember the text on my grand-father's grave stone, "The Most Faithful Witness of Christ." There can be found in this world no greater praise than this. I am also a witness for Jesus Christ; being Christ's, I am not my own. Even if my testimony entails scorn, imprisonment or suffering for the rest of my life, this is not what I should consider.

I will begin from the Cultural Revolution: 1966-1979. The Cultural Revolution began with book burnings, home raids and public persecutions. Christian homes that were not willing to turn in or burn their Christian books on their own initiative were raided. All Bibles and devotional books were taken away. My mother, one of the "Resistants," was not willing to burn nor hand in the books. I helped her dig a hole under the guava tree behind our house. We wrapped our Bibles and hymnals in plastic, and hid them there.

Unsaved at the time, I was horrified by endless raids and verbal threats. I saw grounds dug up and walls torn down in the city, and tombs pried open in the country. I begged and pressed Mother to dig up the hidden books; we burned them all. Later whenever we talked about this, Mother could not hide her inevitable pain. Though the house was twice raided by the "Red Guards," and the ground dug up, the area around the guava tree remained untouched.

My older Christian sister, after burning her books in grief, examined the ashes with a pair of tongs. She wanted to be sure no unburned pieces could be discovered which might cause trouble. To her amazement, she found a thin booklet titled Words of Comfort almost intact, seared on only one side of the edges. It contained 32 pages with daily Scripture reading on each page for each month. An extra reading was on the first page. I can still remember the Scripture: "Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you" (John 14:27). My sister could not bear to burn the surviving book again. She kept the book, risking physical punishment and public humiliation (including being driven on a street parade, wearing a high hat.)

Toward the end of the Cultural Revolution, though they had suffered severely both in body and spirit, Christians gradually stood up again. The hunger and thirst of the soul drove them to look for "heavenly manna." I remember whenever believers got hold of a Scripture passage, they would memorize it and copy it down by hand, not only for themselves, but also for others. I once took apart a complete Bible that I inherited from my late great aunt and compiled it into 36 books. After lending them out, I could not by any means ask for them back. When asked, people would "lend" them back to me instead of returning them. Until this day, I still have a hand-copied complete Bible from someone, which testifies in full measure to the earnestness of the spiritual need among Christians in those days.

Given the unique historical situation, the Words of Comfort drawn out from the fire quickly became a bright light shining in the darkness. The 32 short Scripture passages brought comfort to numerous disheartened believers and applied "balm" to countless broken hearts. Under the circumstances where it was impossible to read a complete Bible, a verse from God always performed amazing works. Several brethren, driven by their love for the Lord, voluntarily hand-copied what they had and distributed them to believers all around. Mrs. Shao, the old lady whom you know intimately, continued in this work in spite of her poor health. She later remained our co-worker in stocking and delivering ink-printed devotional books until she passed away.

We were blessed with a few copies of readings, yet for the multitudes who hungered and thirsted after righteousness, they were as insufficient as a drop of water is unable to quench thirst.

The Spirit moved within us. We began to have the desire to place ourselves in God's hand, as a living sacrifice. God bestowed upon us such measureless grace that we could find no excuse to turn away from His calling. After considerable urgent prayers, we began our ink-printing work in order to provide spiritual nourishment for more believers. The work began without much material preparation. We bought a piece of steel board, a roll of wax paper, a jar of oil-ink, a special pen, and a brush, planning to operate only once.

The "workshop" attic was 8 by 8 meters square and 2 meters high. It was just recently allotted to me for residence by my employer. The time was 1974. It was indeed prepared ahead by God. I had had no roof to call my own since 1970 when my parents were sent out of town by force to be labor workers in the movement called "up to the mountains and down to the fields." Our own home had been sealed and taken over.

The four of us in my own family had to borrow one huge bed and lodge at my in-laws. As for dining, we four had dinners separately in three different places. The harsh situation spoke volumes itself. Now the little one-room house and tiny attic allotted to us, meager as they were, brought my family, even my mother, back together again.

The door of the attic, directly faced the back yard of the Cadre's Dormitory; behind the attic was the lobby of the bank where I worked. The road that took people to work and back home was on the left side of the attic. The only open space was to the right, which was less than 1/3 meter, facing a neighbor's window. Above was the balcony of the ex-personnel manager; below was the bank's safe-room where money was kept. Because the floor of my office was damp, besides my two beds, there were also stored in the attic 8 or 9 medium size wood trunks filled with documents, which belonged to the office. Thus the actual area that allowed movement was only 2 square meters. Unless we closed the windows and the door, nothing could escape the eye of neighbors and people walking by.

God miraculously prepared such a "transparent" workshop and let us work out His plan right under the scrutiny of many eyes. To carry out the work in such a place was more than suitable. "You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies" (Ps. 23:5) was our rich experience then. The feast set before us in the shadow of death is richer than we can savor even to this day. He chose such an unthinkable spot to display His mighty power. Hundreds and thousands of devotional books (such as Streams in the Desert by C. Cowman) and hymnals were copied by hand, edited, ink-printed, trimmed, packaged and delivered out of there. Later we even printed probably the first and only copy of the New Testament in Mainland China during the Cultural Revolution.

It has always been illegal in Mainland China to print devotional books in private. One brother arrested for this reason, was forced to lie on the floor. To "teach" him a lesson his persecutors stepped on a thick bamboo stick and rolled it up and down his legs. During the Cultural Revolution, private printing even became a severe crime incurring imprisonment and even the death penalty. We began working with fear and trembling. Time and again I prayed to God to exempt me from this task. My wish was to find "a ship going to Tarshish" to flee from God's calling (Jonah 1:3, KJV). With the battles within me continuing, I found myself working when I wanted to quit; and quitting when I wanted to work.

The first 50 copies of Words of Comfort were printed out. Though the appearance was coarse and the print light, they filled our hearts with honey, because we were somehow counted worthy of being used by God.

But how to distribute them? We had thought of many ways to avoid leaving a trace. We decided to place the printed material in an envelope addressed by our son, who was then in primary school. I inserted such an envelope under a believer's door, making sure no one was around. Though it appeared to be safe, we failed right at the beginning because of the unbelief in our hearts. My innocent son, though cautioned repeatedly, insisted before the people who were talking about the secret envelopes, that he himself addressed them. I almost fainted at his words. After that, I dared not depend on my own wisdom any more.

On one hand we believed that God had entrusted us to the task of printing, yet on the other we doubted God's ability to protect us. Such contradiction characterized our inward struggle throughout our service, and caused us to do many foolish things. To tell you the truth, had not God placed us again and again at dead ends, tearing down our own devised "havens," who knows how we would have boasted of our own wisdom and discernment today, stealing the glory of God!

The success of our work testified to God's blessing. Led by the Holy Spirit, we continued to run the race. The journey was full of thorns and snares. Left to ourselves, we could not have pressed on. But the wounded hand of our Lord Jesus was intimately upon us, and became the power that moved us onward. After Words of Comfort, we gradually moved on to printing short sermons, Bible study books, various hymnals, Streams in the Desert and other devotional books. Among them, the hymnals and Streams in the Desert, largest demand, were reprinted several times.

It was very clear to us that God Himself was at work throughout the printing process. We were but one of His innumerable vessels. It was our undeserved honor that God had placed this work upon our shoulders. Should we have disobeyed, God could have easily used other vessels. His will could by no means whatsoever be hindered by our disobedience, but we would have lost the reward prepared for us.

As the printing continued, the volume increased from a few score to several hundred. The delivery area expanded farther and farther away, from our town to other places, from the South to the North. Whenever the books were delivered, the brethren received them as their life sustenance. Praises and thanksgiving overflowed. However, as the volumes and delivery areas expanded more and more, so was our risk of being caught and arrested.

As expected, the Security Bureau (the Police) began their investigation as the circulation of Christian books proved to them of the existence of a private printing. One older brother was suddenly summoned by the chief of the Political Security Section under the city's Security Bureau. He was ordered to turn in the Streams in the Desert and another ink-printed booklet. The church body earnestly prayed for God's mercy. Later the case was dropped because the police could not find any evidence despite their continual threats.

Nevertheless, other major and minor accidents occurred one after another. An old sister who was delivering books forgot her bag at a market. The key to the bank's safe in which I had ventured to hide books to be delivered, was lost; it had to be opened by force. A box of printed material mailed to a city was officially opened and inspected because the postal label on the box had been washed away by heavy rain. A brother's home was raided and an ink-printed Gospel of John was found. A sister was on her way to deliver books and her bus was stopped for inspection. A house-church gathering was interrupted by local guards, where over 10 Bibles were taken away. The host was detained for more than 3 months.

Each accident was enough to put the people involved into prison. But each time, God led us through by means that were beyond human comprehension. Whenever we called to the Almighty in time of trouble, His hand was there to rescue us. We often felt as if we were walking on the sea. Like Peter surrounded by darkness and frightened by the roaring tempest, our feet failed to find solid ground. Only when we cried out, "Lord, save us!" with all our might in fear and dismay, had we found that the Lord's hand was carrying us vigorously. God has not promised us a walk without suffering and trials, but He Himself is with us when we suffer. Each experience in water and fire brought us to "a broader place" (Ps. 118:5). Our faith was strengthened as if with layers of concrete.

The trials that came to us seemed to always evolve from minor to major, from light to heavy, from easy to difficult, requiring a step-by-step building of our faith. At times, God made use of the negligence of man, change of environment and clandestine arrows to allow trials beyond our bearing. At the same time, he granted us His sufficient grace. Many people think miracles and wonders are rare and abstract, no longer present now as they were in days of old. They are ever present in the Bible, yet absent from daily living. We would not disagree with them, except that we experienced for ourselves various miracles and wonders through our suffering.

As described earlier, the attic "workshop" had an unoccupied area of only 2 by 2 meters. The lids of wood trunks resting on the edges of our beds became our desks. A steel board, under a layer of glass, was fastened by two metal clips to form our "printing machine." The two beds were used for page dividing, trimming, packaging and storing. It was primitive and simple, but we were full of joy.

One rainy morning a policeman, who had once been my colleague for a short time, suddenly appeared without my consent. He climbed up the 11-stair bamboo ladder to reach the attic. You can imagine the scene as he turned on the light. Several hundred copies of freshly printed Words of Comfort were present: some spread on the beds, partially covered by grass mats; some piled under the beds; some were in the open wood trunks. In addition, ink, printing paper, and wax paper, etc. were all there. Though the weather was bitter cold, I instantly felt a chilling sweat from top to bottom. I was drenched. I could hardly pray in silence. The only thing I remember was a weak cry in my heart for help, "O Lord...." All other words failed.

The policeman sat for about half an hour. He seemed to have detected something unusual, he rolled his eyes, and sniffed incessantly. I have forgotten the details as to how we weathered the danger. I only know that God covered his eyes, stuffed his nose, and disabled his thinking. God turned this accident into another testimony on our path of faith.

Bible printing was our most challenging task. Other books could be hand-copied, edited and printed by ourselves, but the Bible is the Word of God. We dared not make any mistake, being very cautious in the process. Yet upon completion, we still found several typos. The vast volumes required a lot of work, but it was too risky to involve too many workers. The large quantity of printing paper we needed was not available in the market. It could only be purchased through state-controlled newspaper agencies and printing factories.

What were we to do? All we could do was to pray, trusting that "the Lord will provide" (Gen. 22:14). Since He is in charge of all, there is nothing too difficult for Him. So it was proved always when we were in need of something that the supply appeared, no more, nor less; not early, nor late-just as we needed. If things had come our way more than, or earlier than we needed them, there would have been no place to hide them. If the supply had come insufficient or late, the need would not have been met. There were several times when as the last set of the Bible was printed, not a piece of wax paper or staple was left; only a few pieces of printing paper and a half spoonful of ink remained. The perfect timing was beyond belief.

At the beginning, we did not even have one Bible at hand. We borrowed individual books of the Bible, printed and distributed them one by one. We were not able to follow the original order. As I remember, the first book printed was John. The second group included Luke and Romans. The third was Matthew and Mark, followed by Acts and some shorter Epistles. Then we printed Hebrews and the rest of Paul's Epistles. Revelation was the last one. From the first printing until the completion of the New Testament, two years had elapsed. We had printed six to seven batches and packaged several thousand books.

Toward the completion of the work, another disarming and sudden incident made us experience what Paul felt in the ship to Italy-"we finally gave up all hope to be saved" (Acts 27:20).

A sister on her way to deliver books to a certain mountain area, was arrested on the train during a raid. In the following nearly four months of imprisonment, she refused to tell where the books came from, no matter how she was pressed. As the situation left her no other alternatives, she insisted that the books were copied and printed by herself. However, since the police found no printing equipment in her home, and the handwriting was proved different, they did not believe what she said.

They continued to press her. She then told them she got the books from her aunt, whose home was raided the same day. Sure enough, there was still no evidence found. But when the aunt understood she was to bear the "crime" of distributing Bibles, this childless, barely literate, poor and suffering old woman of nearly 80, gladly went to submit herself to the police. She told the policemen she was willing to be put to jail to replace her "sister"-her niece. In front of the furious inspectors, she announced her "will." If she was tortured to death, they need not bother to cremate her. It sufficed to stick her in a coarse container and bury her. The inspectors did not know how to respond. To this day, the loving heart of this old sister is a mirror, showing me my evil thoughts as I devised to escape suffering for the Lord.

As soon as they found out the publication originated from this city, the police thought their success was imminent. Two sources were traced down at the same time. Three people were immediately employed as the most desirable instruments to detect the origin of the printed books. They were: the "Pastor" of the local "Three-Self" church, who used to say, "God did not create man, but man created God," the chairman of the Three-Self Christian Association, who even today does not believe in the existence of a true God; and another leader of the Association, who was responsible for watching believers and reporting directly to the Political Security Section. Meanwhile, all printing factories, stationary stores and warehouses that carried printing paper were inspected one by one. Some pertinent staff were watched and questioned secretly. To end this "major criminal case" and "essential case," the Security Bureau went out of its way.

On the other side, as the brethren heard about the situation, house-churches in different places voluntarily organized various prayer groups, calling out to God day and night. Their prayers formed an insuperable wall of iron and bronze between Satan and us. A severe battle was presented. On one side was the dictator and their underlings, holding guns, handcuffs, and authority to kill. On the other were empty-handed Christians, who would not even lose one hair without the permission of the Lord who made heaven and earth.

It was clear who was the winner and who was the loser. The fact that we are still outside the bar of "law" and can write to you from here today, is the best answer, because "thus far has the Lord helped us" (1 Sam. 7:12).

At that time my situation became very dangerous. Because our kind brethren spread the news, more believers came to know me. At least a few score of people who used to be ignorant about the origin of the publications now learned that we were the workers. A few people even told others I had been arrested and some of them broke into bitter tears. Some came to where I worked to see me. A brother who was too old to walk sent his young grandson to me to inquire of my safety. Though it greatly enhanced the danger of my exposure, God's ability to protect also became more visible.

Large quantities of Bibles were then still being printed but could not be distributed, since there was no way to disperse them. What could we do? When men came to their own wits end, the only thing left was to look up unto Jesus, the author and perfector of our faith. The net of the police was pulled tighter and tighter. The investigation narrowing down and almost about to fall on my head. To continue or to quit required an immediate decision.

Facing such extremity unexpectedly caused us to calm down. Since we were half way through, we could not stop though we wanted to. Besides, there was not even a place to hide the printing material. Shouldn't we speed up and continue our work? We laid ourselves in God's hand, did not stop, did not escape, but worked overtime all night long. Finished copies were distributed at once. We were fully aware that whether printing 100 copies or 1000, we faced death just the same if caught. Other than sit and wait to be arrested, we would rather work a little more for the Lord before we died. Maybe one more person would be saved, or one hungry believer fed just because we printed one more Bible. My life was saved by the Lord Jesus, and I dared not hesitate nor refuse to give it up by excuse for Him.

The things I am recalling now with ease were experienced at that time under unspeakable tension. Almost each night as I went to bed, I would ask, "Lord! Is tonight the last time to sleep in my own bed?" When in the deep of a night, the sound of motorcycles drew near, as if stopping by the building, (motorcycles were mainly military or police vehicles then) I would ask, "Lord! Is it time for me to be put into prison?" When at work, occasionally summoned by the cadre in charge of political work, I would ask, "Lord! Are there policemen with him holding handcuffs?" I understood clearly that God who made the Sodomites search outside Lot's house in vain became "weary trying to find the door." As He lived in ages of old, yet is He living today, and shall live forever more.

God used the Security Bureau's investigations to be the fuel driving us to work day and night. We not only finished printing the last book of the Bible, but also distributed them. As the printing paper fell under special control, and the sales and management staff were being watched, our printing work came to an end. Though later there were gradually more devotional books printed, the work was done elsewhere by other brethren.

Of the grace of our Lord, and the love of our Lord, I desire to speak but cannot find expression. I desire to write but cannot find appropriate words. I desire to know with my heart, but cannot fathom its great breadth and depth. Thus I feel, I am bathed in the ocean of the Lord's love.

-Brother Lin is a house church leader in China. This article was taken from Christian Life Quarterly, 1998, Vol. 2, No. 1, 1998, pp. 8-12.