I first learned about Christmas when I had just started college. Ms. Norris, my American professor, secretly took us to an underground church in China. The church was tucked away in a shabby building, partially hidden behind a hill of charcoal used for winter heating. It was there that I first heard the name of Jesus. A Chinese pastor, who was in his eighties, shared the story of Mary, Joseph, the shepherds, the angels, and the Son of God, Jesus.
Being an Atheist for 40 Years
The Chinese Communist Party (CCP) has been promoting atheism as part of its broader political and social objectives. I grew up during Mao’s Communist regime, a time when schools and media insisted that there was no God, and that religion was like opium. Temples, churches, and other places of worship were destroyed.
Marxism, Leninism, and Maoism were mandatory subjects taught from kindergarten through adult education. During my childhood, my parents often came home late because their workplaces required them to stay hours beyond their eight-hour shifts just to “study” these ideologies.
The first song I learned in kindergarten was, “Without the Communist Party, there would be no new China.” My very first lesson in a first-grade textbook proclaimed, “Mao, the chairman of the Communist Party, is our Savior.”
Life under a Communist regime is marked by fear, hopelessness, and desperation. My parents strictly forbade me from discussing political topics, both at home and with anyone outside our family. They lived in constant fear that our neighbors might spy on us and report us to the government.
For 40 years, I had forgotten how to dream of freely pursuing anything beautiful in life. At 41, I began a new chapter of my life in the United States. One day, an American friend casually asked me, “What’s your dream?” To my embarrassment, I replied, “I don’t know.”
I felt “blind” because I didn’t understand who was controlling my life. Every day, I worked tirelessly just to survive, yet a persistent sense of emptiness haunted me. I felt lost, adrift without a clear destination.
Baptism in a Small Town in the Rocky Mountains
I learned about Jesus when I was 19 years old. It was because Ms. Norris took me and my classmates to the underground church on Christmas morning. After that, I didn’t know more about Jesus. For more than two decades, I had no relationship with Jesus.
Life was challenging during my first five years in the United States. One year, I juggled four part-time jobs just to cover rent and other bills. My day started early, leaving my apartment before five in the morning. My first job involved commuting to suburban elementary schools to teach a Chinese enrichment program before the school day began. Later in the morning and during lunch hours, I worked as a library assistant at a university campus. In the afternoons, I taught an afterschool program at a downtown elementary school.
Eventually, I secured a full-time job in a small town in the Rocky Mountains. However, the work environment was hostile, leaving me deeply depressed. With no family, no relatives, no friends, and no support system, the crushing loneliness made everything even harder to bear.
Then, everything began to shift. One day, while aimlessly riding my bicycle along a secluded country road, I came across a building that, to me, looked like a country club or an art museum. Elegantly dressed people were entering, sparkling my curiosity. I stopped at the entrance, wondering what kind of event might be happening inside. Just then, I heard a sweet voice behind me say, “After you.”
Turning around, I saw a beautiful woman in a white dress standing beside me, holding the door open with a warm smile.
I stepped into the building, feeling a bit lost and unsure of myself. “Welcome to church!” she said gently, her smile never fading. Instead of walking away, she accompanied me through the entrance hall, her kindness easing my unease. With her invitation, I joined her and her husband in a pew.
That day, I heard the most beautiful songs about Jesus, and I couldn’t hold back my tears. It felt as though my soul was being showered and cleansed. In that moment, something profound within me began to transform.
Later, the woman in white—a hospital chaplain—baptized me. She prayed with me and for me, guiding me on my spiritual journey. She became my mentor and godmother.
What Christmas Means to Me
Becoming a regular churchgoer has given me a deeper understanding of the true meaning of Christmas, shaped by my journey from atheism to Christianity. For me, Christmas is not about tradition or custom—it’s about the profound realization that God found me, and I found Jesus.
The day I met my godmother, I mistook the church for a country club or a museum, completely overlooking the large cross on its façade. Yet, in His boundless love, God saw me and guided me to that place.
Before knowing God, I felt utterly lost, with no one to turn to for help. Today, my life is still full of challenges, but now I have Jesus to support me through the highs and lows. No matter what happens in this world, I have a steadfast Spirit that gives me courage and wisdom to face each moment.
Christmas reminds me of that transformative day and the incredible grace that changed my life forever. Christmas to me means God’s Amazing Grace. Having Jesus in my life, I can dream and dream big.
“Amazing grace! How sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost, but now am found,
Was blind, but now I see.
‘Twas grace that taught my heart to fear,
And grace my fears relieved.
How precious did that grace appear
The hour I first believed.
Through many dangers, toils, and snares,
I have already come.
‘Tis grace that brought me safe thus far,
And grace will lead me home.
The Lord has promised good to me,
His Word my hope secures.
He will my shield and portion be,
As long as life endures.
…”