sharing hope with china << previous page

Susanna Johnson spent two years teaching English in China. As you read a brief account of her experience, pray for our global workers around the world.

I dropped my 44-pound suitcase, sat down on the rock-hard couch and looked around the empty apartment: grimy floors, a propane-fueled stove, notoriously unreliable electricity, windows that leak winter winds, and a bathroom fit for a horror movie. That was the place I spent two years in ministry.

Inner Mongolia is an autonomous region within China, founded in 1947 and bordering Mongolia and Russia to the north. It is a place of sandstorms and blue skies, mutton and milk tea, desert and mountains, joy and suffering. It is here where I would see raw meat dragging on the back of a bicycle, sheep’s heads lined on the street and suspicious ingredients in my soup. I learned my lesson. It’s never chicken.
At the same time, that is where I would come to love the people around me: the vegetable seller who spoke extra-slow Mandarin for me, the restaurant-owner who gave us a fresh sunflower from which we picked raw seeds to eat, and a Chinese colleague who worked tirelessly on our students’ behalfs.

There, in that place near the Gobi desert, young people share the universal thirst for hope and purpose. That’s not easy in the Chinese culture where they nearly break under the pressure of China’s 4-2-1 society. The typical family of four grandparents and two parents places all future hopes on one child. It is a heavy burden and none can bear it alone. They drift in a society that has given them no anchor.

“We have no values,” said one student recovering from a broken relationship. “Nobody has taught us.” Another said, “My life is meaningless. I used to think that I had purpose, but now I am just wasting my life.” At times, the despair of my students overwhelmed me.

I longed for them to meet the God of purpose who relieves our fears and restores our hope. And yet, Jesus was there. God was declaring his glory. I daily experienced moments of grace and encouragement in the midst of discouragement. I knew the love and prayer of the Sanctuary Sunday School class at New Hope Church. I learned that when he calls us, he also equips us and sustains us. He provides and comforts. We rest; he works.

A top student, realizing the fleeting praise of high grades, asked me what the purpose of life was. I shared where she could find it. Then she said, “Before tonight, I really didn’t know anything about the Bible. I didn’t think it was true. I just believed in myself. But now I understand more. I think I will read it.”

A new believer said the sweetest words I ever heard during my last weeks in China: “I really love Jesus.”

I know that only Jesus can give that city hope. This city, full of SUV-driving businessmen, tea-sipping taxi drivers, Tibetan jewelry vendors, poor farmers, Muslim grandmothers, and my precious, lost students: Jesus is redeeming it all. This broken city will be restored. God is greater and God is working.

The harvest is plentiful. People are thirsty for forgiveness and freedom. How will you proclaim it? Pray. Send. Go.