From a flood-isolated village to the mountains of Southwest China, from legalistic bondage to pressure within his own family, the battles he has faced were never distant or abstract—but always rooted in the human heart.
Over thirty-five years in ministry, Pastor Timothy gradually came to understand that genuine faith is not merely a matter of personal devotion. It is an ongoing, gentle, yet very real struggle—a struggle without visible smoke or weapons, not aimed at defeating people, but consistently centered on one question: to whom does the human heart ultimately belong? Looking back, Pastor Timothy's path was never a steadily ascending "ministry résumé," but a series of concrete battles, fought again and again, to reclaim hearts for the Lord.
Reclaiming Trust in God Amid Floods and Fear
In the early 1990s, Timothy was still a teenager living in a remote riverside village. The area was isolated, with little access to information or entertainment. An elderly preacher once came to the village, teaching children how to read numbered musical notation and sing hymns. As he explained the lyrics, he also shared biblical stories and teachings. During the day, he even used the Bible to teach illiterate adults how to read. For many villagers who had never received a formal education, learning to sing and read was deeply appealing.
Gradually, regular gatherings took shape. The warmth of communal life and the comfort of hymns stirred in young Timothy a vague but growing longing for "church" and "fellowship." In the winter of 1990, he decided to follow Christ.
At first, like many young peers, he did not fully grasp the weight of the Christian faith. That changed after the Spring Festival of 1991, when an unprecedented flood struck. The village was completely cut off from the outside world for forty days.
One night during that period, Timothy was suddenly struck with severe abdominal pain. With no clinic, no medicine, and no way out, fear and helplessness set in. For the first time, he instinctively cried out to God.
"I knelt down and prayed earnestly," he recalled. "Amazingly, after the prayer, the intense pain eased—and then disappeared entirely."
That moment marked a turning point. Faith was no longer just hymns or collective emotion; it became personal and experiential.
During the weeks of isolation, although preachers could not enter the village, gatherings continued. Timothy took on the role of reading Scripture aloud, while a sister who could not read, yet had a lived faith, shared and explained the message.
After the floodwaters receded and communication was restored, Timothy began attending short-term training programs and spiritual retreats outside the village. His understanding of the Bible deepened, and the church likewise grew more aware of its need to equip believers.
Reclaiming the Authentic Gospel in Poverty and Superstition
A little over a year after coming to faith, Timothy joined several coworkers on a trip to China's southwestern frontier. The journey was not the result of careful missionary planning but of youthful zeal and a simple willingness to respond.
Only after arriving did they realize that the challenge was not merely geographical distance but an entirely different way of life—and a vastly different spiritual landscape.
Mountain paths were narrow and steep, many carved into cliff edges, allowing passage for only one person at a time. Carrying Bibles and hymnals, they walked from early morning until late at night. Living conditions were harsh: two meals a day, mostly coarse grains.
Even more challenging was the widespread superstition and spiritual confusion. At night, villagers gathered around fire pits, curious about these outsiders from beyond the mountains. It was in these ordinary, close-to-life conversations that the gospel was shared again and again.
Within just two months, more than two thousand people made decisions to follow Christ.
On one occasion, a local practitioner of sorcery openly challenged the missionaries, claiming to pit his deity against theirs. The missionaries fasted and prayed for three days, yet experienced an unusual peace. On the appointed day, the man never appeared. Later, they learned that after God's name had been proclaimed, those who boasted of supernatural powers withdrew instead.
The work, however, was far from easy. Some newly formed congregations were disrupted and taken over by heretical influences—a painful experience that left a deep mark. Timothy came to understand that proclaiming the truth and shepherding believers is a long journey that demands continual sacrifice.
The Cost and Formation of Spiritual Warfare
More than 30 years later, Pastor Timothy still remembers the details of that region: faces illuminated by firelight, trembling steps along cliffside paths, and tears shed in prayers of commitment. These memories remain vivid.
He and his coworkers witnessed multiple healings through prayer, which greatly strengthened their faith. Yet the physical toll was severe. Those years left him not only with spiritual joy but also with lasting damage to his digestive system.
Before setting out, his enormous appetite earned him the nickname "Eight Bowls," a sign of strength and vitality. Prolonged malnutrition and unclean food changed that completely. The digestive damage remains to this day.
"Even now, if I eat just a little too much or something slightly oily, my stomach reacts violently," he said, describing the price paid.
Reclaiming Freedom in Christ from Legalism
Several years later, in his early twenties, Timothy traveled to Northeast China to stay with a cousin. This was not a church assignment. His means of livelihood was a simple popcorn-making machine.
At a village gathering, he encountered a different kind of spiritual struggle. As soon as the meeting ended, questions poured out:
"Brother, can we eat dumplings on the first day of the Lunar New Year?"
"Is posting Spring Festival couplets a sin?"
"Can we boil an egg for our child's birthday?"
"If relatives have weddings or funerals, can we attend or help?"
Behind each question was fear. Believers lived in constant anxiety, worried that ordinary actions might cost them their spiritual standing. When Timothy responded with a calm, Scripture-based "yes," he could visibly see people exhale in relief.
Only later did he realize he had entered a region deeply shaped by extreme legalism. Under the influence of a radical sect, believers were bound by three layers of distortion: the first layer was legalism, which encouraged strict behavioral prohibitions—no dumplings on New Year's Day, no Spring Festival decorations, no participation in weddings or funerals, no birthdays, no helping neighbors. Faith lived under constant fear of condemnation; and a distorted view of suffering and a "narrow" view of salvation that there was no need for evangelism, and they only focused on preserving the "holiness" of a small, isolated group.
Together with a local leader, Timothy began to teach a "Believer's Growth" course for seven consecutive days in multiple churches, explaining justification by faith and freedom in Christ. Family conflicts eased, and rigid faces softened into smiles of understanding. However, the sect's headquarters soon labeled him a troublemaker and banned churches from receiving him. More than a dozen congregations closed their doors.
Reclaiming Hearts through a Life Witness at Home
If earlier battles were fought in ministry fields, the longest struggle took place at home.
In his early years' walk with the Lord, Timothy attended gatherings almost daily. To his father, this meant neglecting real responsibilities. Conflict escalated. At its worst, his father chased him for several kilometers down a dirt road, wielding a stick.
Books were thrown out into the yard. Scolding and cold stares became routine. "The only response the church taught us," Timothy recalled, "was not to argue—just do the work that needed doing, and treat the scolding as something you didn't hear."
This tension lasted well into his marriage. The couple supported themselves without asking Timothy's father for help. They provided for their own family and helped the younger brother secure stable employment. In the eyes of relatives, Timothy became someone reliable. His father's attitude slowly changed. Although his father, now 80, has not embraced the faith, he now seeks his son's advice on major family matters and relies on him when medical care is needed.
(The name "Timothy" is a pseudonym for safety reasons.)
Originally published by the Christian Times
- Edited by Poppy Chan
