I was born in a traditional Chinese family with the usual practice of ancestral worship and common superstitions. I might have vague recognition of the existence of a God in the universe but that God had no place in my life.

  I was born in China. My family moved to Hong Kong as refugees when the communists took over China. When I was in grade 4, my father was diagnosed of nostril cancer. He was fortunate to be treated by a competent doctor who applied radiation treatment which was an advanced technology at that time. During my father’s treatment, one of his friends brought him to a Methodist church; he was later converted and baptized.

  After that, my family started to attend church. I received baptism and began attending Sunday School. I heard Bible stories and Jesus. Although I did not know about salvation, I regarded myself a Christian.

  At that young age, I did not ponder much about the meaning of life. However, I was not happy. I seldom laughed aloud. Life was dull. My life is, as Macbeth says, "full of sound and fury, signifying nothing."

  At grade 7, I entered an Anglican middle school where I heard more about Jesus but still the story did not have any significance to me. When I was in grade 9, I started attending the Christian fellowship at school. One day, a grade 12 student from the fellowship asked me whether I was a Christian and I said yes. He then asked whether I had been saved and born again but I did not understand the question. Those words sounded like a mystery.

  One day in winter, I was invited to an evening gospel meeting of the fellowship. I reluctantly agreed to go. I had little intention to attend because I seldom went out at night. Moreover, the meeting place was not close to home and I had to take a bus trip. But somehow when the time came, I was on my way to the meeting.

  It was January 27, 1961. The night was dark and I trotted on the dark street towards the meeting place. My heart was heavy and my soul was weary. The feeling of meaninglessness of life filled my thoughts. Even now, I can still see in my mind a picture of that dark street.

  In the meeting, the story of the death of Jesus was again told, although this time the tremendous suffering of Jesus was described with greater details. But the important thing was that the meaning of the story was clearly explained the first time in my life… Jesus suffered and died for me, for my sins, and if I accepted Jesus I would be saved from the sins. At that moment, the scene of the painful death of Jesus seemed to appear right in front of my eyes. I confessed to God in my heart that I was sorry for my sins and that I was willing to accept Jesus.

  When I came out from the meeting that evening, I had a very strange feeling which imprinted vividly in my memory as if it happened just yesterday. The whole world seemed renewed. The street was quiet with only a few pedestrians but the surroundings seemed to glow in a mystic light. The street lights appeared brighter than normal. The cool winter air was so fresh and so sweet that I tried to inhale deeply again and again. Yet, inside of me, I felt an indescribable warmth filling up my whole body.

  Before my eyes appeared all the bad things that I had done in the past, incident by incident like an old movie. I remembered my telling lies to my father; I remembered how I hated other people; I even remembered little incidents like pushing other people to get onto the bus. Although these sins appeared in my mind as a queue, I was not distressed because a voice in my heart assured me that these were all forgiven – they would be remembered no more!

  Back at home, I was filled with joy and I thanked God in my prayer. The sustaining joy and warmth in my heart brought me to the sweetest slumber that I have ever experienced.