At the age of sweet 16, I embraced an opportunity, looking back, with no regard for leaving my parents, siblings, and church family.  For this missionary heart of mine, embedded in me, along with the sincere desire of being a wife and mother, urged and pulled me to embark on a journey of a lifetime.

My parental grandparents, missionaries of the Philippines Island – where I visited at the tender, young age of 14 and left my heart there because I fell in love with the people and the Island – stationed in Hong Kong for six months, overseeing a church of individuals from the Philippines working there and teaching at a local Bible School.

I step into the airplane that will take me to Hong Kong, with my bags tucked in the belly of the plane that contains my clothes, toiletries, and school books — homeschooled for most of my middle and high school years.  As I sat in my seat where I will be planted for the next 14 hours,  I was overwhelmed with mixed emotions of being nervous, the reality of the first time being away from family this length of time, and the excitement of the adventure that awaits me.

When I exited the airplane and set foot on the grounds of Hong Kong, I was readily welcomed with open arms, participating in every detail of the adventure that awaited me for the next six weeks, planting memories in my heart to cherish in the years to come.

So many beautiful memories were developed during those six weeks, and I wish to share them all, but I am only going to focus on one of those memories — a memory of an experience that branded on my heart for life.

A memory is making me appreciate my freedom to hold something of the greatest value in my hands. Feel the texture, smell the scent, and look upon the letters it presents to me in word form — something I cherish daily and keep close to my heart, our Creator’s precious Words, God’s Holy Word, my Bible.

Embracing my adventure in Hong Kong, experiencing a different culture firsthand, being beside my grandparents and participating in their daily lives, visiting various churches, and sitting in Bible School listening to my grandfather teach these hungry souls who desire to live their lives as servants to shepherd others.

Learning about my grandparents’ smuggling Bibles into China sparked an interest that grew into a desire in my heart: to ask if I might smuggle Bibles into China. My request is granted, making my heart ecstatic.  My grandmother made the decision, and I would go for a day since my grandfather was busy with previous commitments.

I am in awe, knowing that I am taking God’s precious word to these precious people who don’t have the right or the freedom to hold God’s word in their own hands whenever they want, without having to look over their shoulder.

At the time this took place in 1990, China didn’t guarantee religious freedom, and there were restrictions on what could be said, believed, read, and taught.  The first took place in 1949, when China became a communist country, and some restrictions remain in effect today, in 2018, at the time of this writing.

There are underground churches in China that keep their religious beliefs hidden from the Chinese government and its restrictions.  Meeting secretly with very few or only parts of the Bible, as some have separated Bibles from distributing pages of the Bible to different people. Those who do have a Bible are hiding them in secret places, hoping not to be found by the authorities of China, as there is a severe penalty for having a bible not approved by the government in one’s possession.

After applying for my visa, I am approved to enter China, then head to a church founded by an American pastor whose heart is full of love for the Chinese people. Walking into one of the rooms of the church, you see tables loaded with all kinds of clothes, Bibles, tracks, and duffel bags.   Gathering all that we can carry, then head back to our flat to stuff the duffel bags.

It’s much safer for a foreigner to take the Bibles across the border to the designated place, and a Chinese individual then picks them up and takes them to the underground church.

If a Chinese individual tried to bring Bibles across the border at customs and was caught, they could end up in prison. As if a foreigner found, they take the Bibles away, and the foreigner would be escorted back over the border.

If a foreigner takes the Bibles to the underground church, because they stick out among the Chinese people, communist soldiers could follow them, unaware of the foreigner, to the underground church, where Chinese individuals would blend in with other Chinese and have a better chance of getting the Bibles safely to the underground churches.

Spending the evening before our departure, wrapping all 50 Bibles – minus the one I kept on my nightstand to take on my person when we leave – in the clothes and empty chip containers, stuffing it all in two duffel bags.  While preparing the Bibles, as an experiment, I put my fanny pack on, filled it with Bibles, and hid it under my shirt, making myself look like a pregnant woman. I stand before the mirror looking at my fake pregnant stomach, deciding against the idea as I become nervous about what could happen if they were to feel my person while we go through customs, realizing my stomach feels harder than a typical pregnant belly feels.

Leaving early on our departure morning, we gather both duffel bags filled with Bibles and our proper visa papers and head to the train station, boarding the train that will take us across the border from Hong Kong into Guangzhou, China.

We settle into our seats, and as the train moves, a sense of excitement rises and continues to grow as I listen to the wheels glide faster and faster along the tracks.

As the train crossed over into China, I could already see and feel the differences between Hong Kong and its former mother country, China.  England was the mother country at the time this was taking place.  In Hong Kong, they drove on the left side, as in England, while in China, they drove on the right side, as in the United States.

While the momentum of the train was taking us to our destination, we passed by communist soldiers.  The first time for my unlearned eyes to lay upon men in communist uniforms in training as they were doing their martial arts.  These soldiers enforce the strict rules of what can and cannot be done regarding religious freedom, taking away the right to read a Bible.

Our train stopped at our destination in Guangzhou, and as we were getting off the train, my grandmother instructed me to stay close to her and not to make eye contact with the communist soldiers. To try not to draw any more attention to ourselves, as we already are, being foreigners.

As we approached customs, my heart was flipping from nervousness.  We place the duffel bag on the conveyor belt to go through an X-ray machine — our person not being searched, a blessing indeed.

Grabbing the bags quickly and sighing with relief at the Bibles being safely back in our hands, while walking away in the hope of being done with customs.

Just as we were starting to relax from the tension of going through customs and moving away from customs, they stopped us.   A custom security guard asked us to return to where we had just left.

Turning back, we see several security guards, and one of them asks us the dreadful question.  The question that we didn’t want to answer while we were in China.  The topic we wanted to avoid at all costs while we were in China.

He asks, “Do you have Bibles?”  My heart starts racing, and at that moment, for the first and so far the only time in my life, I knew what the statement “I wish the ground would open up and swallow me” meant, and I want it to do so at this moment.  I immediately start praying as my heart races, watching and listening to my grandmother respond to them with an honest answer: “Yes, we have Bibles for friends.”   Then I start praying in the heavenly language, as I don’t know what to pray in English at this very moment, while my heart races even faster, and I want the ground to swallow me up.

Praying and listening to the security guards as they ask for the keys to the locks on the duffel bags, and my grandmother complies by giving them the keys.

Seeing one of the security guards unlock one of the duffel bags and take out one of the Bibles, and flipping through the pages while at the same time looking at me, then noticing the other security guards were also watching me, more so than paying attention to the contents that were in the duffel bags. My heart starts pounding, feeling as though they can hear the pounding of my heart and will see it beat right out of my chest.

I held my breath for a moment as I watched the security guard place the bible back into the bag while keeping his eyes on me, as the others were still watching me too, and then, he said the sweetest words I could ever hear at that moment.  “You are free to go.”  What? I start breathing again. We are free!

Grandmother quickly grabs one of the bags as I instantly grab the other one, and we proceed with haste out of customs, not looking back.

Walking out of the train station, filled with communist soldiers, a strong, confident spirit rose inside of me, knowing that God would take care of the Bibles that we were carrying,  delivered to our dearest brothers and sisters in Christ.

Getting into a taxi cab, the grandmother showed the driver a paper with Chinese writing on it – we received when we picked up the bibles at the church in Hong Kong – with the name of the hotel we are to deliver the bibles to.

We arrive at the hotel, check the bags in at the front desk, and receive a pickup receipt to deliver the duffel bags back to the church in Hong Kong with the keys. Then they will give the items to a Chinese individual who will go to the hotel, pick up the bags, and take the precious Bible to the underground churches for our dear brothers and sisters in Christ.

Grandmother and I took this opportunity of being in China to do some sightseeing. I enjoy every moment of it.  I bought a glass Coke bottle with Chinese writing on it to drink, but instead of drinking it, I decided that since I smuggled Bibles into China, I was going to smuggle this Coke out of China. I secretly hid my Coke bottle in my purse and smuggled it out.

When you buy a Coke bottle in China, you are supposed to return the empty bottle after drinking the contents.

Sitting at the bench at the train station – after the sightseeing – to head back into Hong Kong.  My heart starts to have compassion for the communist soldiers as I am watching them, wanting to reach out to them.   I leaned over to my grandmother and said,  and I want to give the bible I have on my person to one of the soldiers.  She said, “No.”  I reply, I want to lay down my life.”

I am no longer having regard to my dreams of being a wife and a mother someday and enjoying a full future ahead of myself, as I have only lived 16 sweet years at the time.  In my young mind, I am ready to lay down my life at that moment, with a confidence that can’t be explained or understood.

My grandmother responded again by saying, “You can lay your life down with your dad, not with me. I need to get you home to your parents.”

Getting ready to exit the train that brought us back to Hong Kong, I place the Bible on my person and put it behind the window curtain by the seat I am now leaving.  I know I am on the Hong Kong side and not in China as I left the Bible, but just maybe, that bible will make it back into China and bless a hungry soul or even a communist soldier.

I left China and Hong Kong with a new appreciation and love for my bible, and I do not take it for granted that I can keep my precious Bible close to me without fear of looking over my back, to read anytime I desire, and when I sense the Lord leading me to do so.

Years later,  I still have the Coke bottle filled with Coke, sitting in my cupboard as a reminder of the day I smuggled Bibles into China.

I believe that each one of us is to be a smuggler.

We may not be able to smuggle Bibles, but we can smuggle God’s Glory everywhere we go.

We can be the light in the darkness.  We can be at peace during the chaos.  We can be in love or hate.  We can be forgiving of unforgiveness.  We can be the joy in sorrow.