In 1890 Lui Tao-yi was born into a wealthy Buddhist home, situated in the Miao-Lingku (Temple Ridge) Valley.

Tao-yi's aunt was an especially devout Buddhist. In his boyhood days he enthusiastically followed her to the idol festivals. Spoon-fed on Buddhism, he became an ardent supporter of its teachings.

After labouring five years as the district preacher in Shanyang's east county, he was accepted by the inner ring of Buddhists. He converted the hall in his home into a Buddhist chapel and did his utmost to furnish it tastefully. "A beautiful chapel is an excellent proof of a good heart relationship with the spirit world," was one of his favourite sayings.

Tao went still further in his ascetic Buddhist views by vowing to observe the strictest vegetarianism and by promising, in the presence of the gods, to live separate from his wife. He did not seek anything here in this life; his one wish was to achieve Chang seng up lao nirvana in the world beyond through right-doing in the present one. He considered all his self denial as mere play, since he had his eyes set on vast expectations, even embracing the state of unmitigated satisfaction.

His wife co-operated with him in becoming a zealous Buddhist and in vowing to abide by the same restraints as her husband. She had a similar hope concerning existence in the beyond, but she also had another wish. In her new birth she longed to become a man.

Lui Tao-yi's offerings continually attained to new heights. Buddhist monks and trainees boarded at his home all through the year. Tao-yi's hospitality was the admiration of the countryside. The guests flattered their host and kept on eating; they praised him as they devoured his food. Tao-yi viewed this liberality of his as a serious branch of his religion until in the end it landed him in the chasm of destitution. To cap his misfortune, his wife, his daughter, and he himself became ill and lay writhing in agonies that were both physical and spiritual. Though penniless and almost without food, they looked in vain for a hand outstretched to help. Nothing, not even one drop of boiled water, was given to them by the pious priests and monks who had scuttled his resources.

Lui Tao-yi's thoughts worked under high pressure, since there was so much he could not piece together. His house had been filled with guests, and scores of times they had claimed to be his friends. Now they showed him that these Buddhists had mouths of honey, but hearts of dross.

He realized that he was a sinner, and he had an anxious desire to rid himself of sin. But how ? Buddhism had darkened his path and left him confused. Where could he find a new and certain way to peace ?

A visitor, his brother-in-law, P^e, came one day and told of how a new God had arrived in China. This God was called Jesus, and he had heard some strange people down near Camel's Neck say that this Jesus could forgive sins. Pe also spoke about the many people the white man had made happy through the use of a medicine specially good for the heart, a face-to-face personal interview. Their sincerity is not be gainsaid, he said, because these ugly whites have travelled sixty thousand li (Chinese miles) from their country to ours to tell us about their God. Winding up his monologue Pe cheerfully informed Tao-yi that a native Chinese was down there talking about the same thing as the white man. "Perhaps," he suggested, "you ought to take a trip down and hear for yourself." Thereupon he gracefully bowed himself out.

That night Tao-yi was sleepless. His thoughts whirled about madly. He acknowledged that he had to make the journey to Camel's Neck, even if it meant rolling down the hill to the city. How Tao-yi managed to cover the three and a half miles to the city is still a mystery to him. The fact is that he put that distance behind him and called at the home of one of his relatives who was a Christian.

His relative was astounded to see Tao-yi, more dead than alive, stumble over his threshold, for he recognized him as the leading force within the Buddhist clique in Luhkiachuang. He was nearly incredulous when he heard of the reason for the visit. The Buddhist leader had endangered his very life by crawling out of his bed and dragging himself over the long road in order to learn more about Jesus Christ.

"Can the Jesus you worship take away my sin, give peace to my heart and quench my thirst for things eternal ?" This question he repeated at short intervals. Yao, as his Christian relative was named, recounted for him his own conversion in unadorned but gripping words. The narrative created a great impression on the sick man.

Tao-yi, hungry, fatigued, and stretched out on a straw mat spread over the earthen floor, could not elude the thoughts that troubled him. His eyes feverishly swept around the room, examining it thoroughly yet he could not discover a single idol. Where then was the God whom Yao worshipped ? What if this Jesus proved insufficient to meet his need ? Where could he then turn to find peace for his heart ?

After the lapse of an hour, the host conducted his guest to the chapel in which lived the evangelist. From him he heard the story of the life, death, and Resurrection of Jesus, of His unbounded love, and of the great commission to His disciples to tell all men of Himself. The story entranced the Buddhist, and gradually the hardness of his heart melted. Dejected and broken, he sank to the floor and surrendered his life to Jesus. The burden of sin rolled away, the pain disappeared, and tears coursed down his cheeks. It was not surprising that he acted a bit strange. He sang and rejoiced, as if he had never known what happiness was like until that moment.

When he arrived home, Tao-yi immediately threw himself into the task of cleansing his house of idols. But his wife promptly set herself in opposition, despite her sickness. Difficulties towered around him and tried to block his progress along the heavenward way. The new life, however, was firmly grounded in the former Buddhist, and his faith increased day by day. His prayers for his wife and children steadily developed in power till at length his faith conquered. Then his wife came to share the joys of the new life. The old images were burned, but the Buddhist literature was spared.

The sunshine of gladness smiled on man and wife. They ate meat without the fear of revenge or punishment from the gods. They believed in the only true God, and knew that He had created the animals of the earth and the birds of the air.

A great misfortune befell the household one day. Tao-yi was crippled by a crushing blow. For months on end he lay helpless, despite the attention of numerous doctors, who proved powerless to do anything. The last doctor they had called had advised the wife to buy a coffin and make preparations for the funeral, since the husband could not possibly survive more than two weeks.

The relatives persuaded the wife, who was young and weak in the faith, to summon the sorcerers who could perhaps through their magical arts drive off the demons. The patient, on hearing their plans, refused to let them bid the sorcerers come, and at the same time refused to have any papers burned over his grave if he died. He did not need a "conductor" in the new world, for he knew where he was heading. Thereupon he audibly prayed to God for help and strength.

Not understanding anything of Tao-yi's prayer, his relatives, who had spent the night there, thought he was delirious. For that reason they asked the wife to let the demon-chasers come, but she, however, realized what her husband was doing and rejected the proposal.

Whilst praying the sick man saw a vision. He saw Jesus standing at his side and telling him to send for Feng Teh-en, the elder in the Shanyang church. He would pray for him, and Jesus would cure his sickness. They sent for Feng Teh-en, and he promptly responded by coming. This servant of the Lord was afflicted with asthma, so the fifteen-mile trip was no jaunt for him. But he readily disregarded personal wants and weaknesses so long as he knew there was a soul or body in distress.

The home Feng entered this time bore visible signs of Tao-yi's six months' illness. He approached the patient, laid his hand on his head and prayed a direct and earnest prayer to his Lord and Master. During the prayer, the patient felt his pains depart, and after several days was able to rise up with renewed strength. This incident revived the spiritual life of his wife.

On the Sunday following his cure, Tao-yi sat on his former seat in the chapel, a remarkable witness to the omnipotence of God both to the heathen and the half-hearted Christians.

Tao-yi was filled with a bubbling happiness. He almost felt like leaping around on the mountain crags from sheer joy. Upon his deciding that his home should be be opened as an out-station where meeting could be held each Sunday, the elders in the church promised to send an evangelist every Sunday.

Wan Wan-tsung, the leader of the church, was at Tao-yi's home that Sunday, because our friend had decided to burn all his beloved Buddhist books. The news quickly spread that Tao-yi was about to burn the holy books. The author has countless times been amazed at the speed with which news circulates in China. In spite of the lack of telephones and radios, news travels like forked lightning. A secret is something foreign to China.

The district's most powerful Buddhist leaders personally visited his home and pronounced the most frightful curses they could think of over Tao-yi, his wife, child, household, and home. His wife was terrified out of her wits and pleaded with him not to destroy the books, but he was firm in the faith, and, together with brother Wang, he burnt up the Buddhist scriptures with other valuables and knick-knacks belonging to his former way of life. The bonfire attracted many spectators, including monks and other Buddhist dignitaries. The spirit of God was so noticeably present during the blaze that even the chief Buddhists were profoundly influenced.

Soon afterwards Tao-yi was baptized, and instead of the works of Buddhism he studied the Bible. Morning prayers were instituted in his home and held regularly.

One of his cousins, a bitter anti-Christian, could not refute what God had performed with respect to his cousin's sickness. Unfortunatly, this cousin was captured by bandits, who took him to the mountains, where they tortured him for his money. He was in a tight corner when a few words Tao-yi had said to him came to memory: "When you are in difficulty, pray to Jesus and He will help you." Knowing that this was his last resort, he knelt down in the midst of the heathen in the cave and stammered forth a prayer to Lui Tao-yi's God. It was a cry of need to an unknown God, but the wonderful thing with this God is that He seems to entertain a peculiar love towards His worst opposers. The unknown God heard the prayer of this heathen man and released him. As a result, Tao Hsing turned to this new God in prayer for the salvation both of himself and his family. He was one of the district's most trusted men, and the authorities could not endure his making such an exhibition of himself. In vain they threatened him. Several times in this period of tribulation he was on the point of yielding to the pressure of magistrates, only to be upheld by the childlike fatih of his wife.

Some of his former friends amongst the officials came one day as he was grinding his corn, and seized both his oxen and millstone. This was directly against the old law which stated: "Thou shalt not take a man's millstone from him, as it is his life." It was like a blow right in the face; a blow all the worse, seeing he had only freshly started on the road of faith.

The representative of the Government ruled the district like a petty tyrant. He did not content himself with minor abuses, but often indulged in acts of brutality. The government in Shanghsien found it an impossibility to curb their representative in this isolated county, so he did exactly as he pleased.

The author encountered many difficulties when tackling the case of Tao Hsing's grindstone. But these difficulties were overcome and the stolen property was returned. The regional official, in well-chosen sentences, deplored the attack on Tao Hsing.

Nevertheless, he soon thought out a new means wherewith to persecute the Christians. He issued secret orders that the Christians should pay the temple tax and that those amongst them who refused should be driven out of the county. The Christians laid his edict before God in prayer, and sent a copy to the superintendent with their plea for help. The Government, having been informed about the situation, sent a notice to the county official, saying that he had been appointed to fight superstition, not to uphold it. However, he pursued his own course. The Government in the end was forced to despatch a detachment of soldiers to clear up the affair. The small despot, bowing in contrition, became pliable. Since then the Christians have not encountered any opposition from him.

Lui Tao-yi, who now was travelling about as an independent evangelist, visited the autocrat and admonished him to turn over a new leaf. The Government official, though stirred by the message, refrained from committing himself in the matter.

As an evangelist, Tao-yi started out on his first tour all alone. On his extended journey he came to a large rural district named after the Huang Ho, the Yellow River, where he began to labour and saw results. When he left, three Christian families remained as proof of victory for the kingdom of God.

Tao-yi wished to go further, but his Lord and Master halted him in a vision. In a dream one night, he saw his home county, and that vision influenced him wonderfully. He was certain that his future field of labours lay there, and that God desired him to continue the work he had commenced in his home place. He was obedient to the call, returned home, and began to preach the gospel to his own people.