This is the story of a small rural church that has survived nearly half a century. Amid the sweeping tide of urbanization, it has not been flooded away. What makes this church's "undying" flame so intriguing is that it appears "unqualified" by almost every modern standard. Yet what is moving is that it has miraculously survived—sustained by an instinctive persistence, even a kind of perseverance without knowing its "flaws."
Over the past fifty years, many villages in China have been reshaped by urbanization: farmland has been flattened, cattle sheds have disappeared, old houses have been demolished, and the dirt roads at village entrances have been replaced by rows of dull gray resettlement buildings. The crowing of roosters, barking of dogs, and street vendors' calls, along with the loose yet close-knit relationships among neighbors, have gradually faded into memory.
In this irreversible trend of the times, many churches that once grew out of these villages have disappeared along with them. As villages relocated and populations shifted, some churches moved, while others disappeared. Not every church survived.
A small church in the northwest that I once visited is one of the few gathering places that has endured through the wave of urbanization.
In this church, you sense a striking contrast: there is no clear theological stance, no systematically trained pastor, and no defined ministry direction. The gathering consists of just over a dozen people, most of whom are over fifty years old. From a sociological perspective, they would seem likely to "naturally dissipate." If the standards for a church are a clear doctrinal foundation, mature leadership, and a healthy structure, this church would hardly qualify on any of those criteria.
And yet it has survived.
In a grayish resettlement building, with makeshift tables and chairs, off-key hymns, and somewhat clumsy sermons, none of this has stopped them from gathering week after week. Perhaps it is precisely this "unself-conscious persistence" that compels us to rethink: when all external conditions are lacking, what still makes a group a church?
A Vague Beginning
More than 50 years ago, the city was small and was surrounded by vast farmland. Brother Cui was in his twenties. He was helpless as his wife fell ill with little access to medicine. Several female Christians came to his home. They held his wife's hand by the bed, sang hymns, and prayed for her. Before long, she recovered and came to believe.
Brother Cui's own "turning point" came from a piercing toothache. After a sleepless night, one evening, he was suddenly enveloped by a dazzling light, and the pain miraculously disappeared. Later, he became the leader of the church.
The Rens family came to faith with what might be called "impure motives." Ren Xiaomei, who would later become the church's preacher, came to believe through what felt like a desperate try-and-see. Hoping to save their nephew suffering from kidney failure, the whole family was converted. However, when the nephew eventually died, they collectively abandoned their faith. Yet the church did not give up on them. Members frequently visited them. Once, on a slippery, snowy road, someone injured their foot and couldn't leave home for weeks. The eldest brother of the Rens was deeply moved by this "stubborn persistence." He not only returned to the Christian faith but also opened his home as a place of receiving non-local believers and preachers. Later, the two sisters of Rens were baptized. When the elder sister was baptized, she didn't even know who Jesus was; Ren Xiaomei (the second sister) herself was driven by a simple expectation that one day she could reunite with her family in heaven.
A Lively Church With Unenlightened Believers
Originally, people gathered in a farmhouse courtyard. When attendance was high, there weren't enough stools, so some stood, and others squatted.
The leader was Sister Zhang, whose father had been a well-known local pastor. She was energetic, loud-voiced, and often held a tin megaphone to speak. Her voice echoed within the earthen walls while people below chatted. Brother Cui and several elderly women squeezed onto a long bench, singing along, but once the sermon began, he would fall fast asleep.
The church organized a baptism preparation class called the "100 Questions About Faith." After working in the fields, people would invite each other to study from the small booklets. The eldest sister, Ren, sold eggs. Each evening after her work, she would leave her pushcart in the yard and rush to church for the class. She wouldn't return home till about ten at night. Within days, she was baptized. At that time, the church was flourishing.
Those Who Were Trained Left
Sixteen years ago, Ren Xiaomei nearly found herself pushed onto the pulpit. After her rushed baptism, she showed little interest in gatherings and focused on making money. Driving a taxi led to severe lumbar spine problems, leaving her bedridden in pain. Sister Zhang visited daily to massage her and invited her to attend a faith training course in another city.
Hoping that a pastor's laying on of hands might heal her back, Ren went along. On the first day, she realized that all the other attendees were pastors or church workers and that she knew nothing. But during the three months, she read the Bible for the first time. Her back pain eased, and her mind enlightened.
She returned to the church with anticipation, only to be told during a meeting that she would replace the current preacher. Panicked, she refused repeatedly. No one spoke up for her, not even her own sister.
That year, she joined the trend of millions of migrant workers and went to Beijing.
Division: Good Believers Were Led Away
As the church grew, differing voices emerged. Some explained things with more graceful lights than Sister Zhang; others interpreted the Scripture more clearly. She became increasingly wary and irritable. Eventually, she took away a group of followers, and the church split.
The once lively gathering place quickly shrank due to dispersion and the loss of leadership. In the end, only two or three "unpromising" individuals like Brother Cui remained.
Such divisions, arising from insufficient spiritual grounding, confusion over authority, and immature leadership, are not uncommon in grassroots churches.
When Only the "Unqualified" Remain
A few months later, Ren Xiaomei returned. Her time drifting in Beijing had deepened her reliance on God.
Back home, she never felt she was a "qualified" preacher. But she thought of how the training had been funded by the offerings of fellow believers, and now was her time to respond. She also remembered that during those three months, every participant had the desire to build up the church. What she once didn't understand had now become her determination and motivation.
So she began with the simplest things: reading Scripture, praying, and sharing. At first, people sat together awkwardly, unsure what to do or say, not even knowing how to end a meeting.
Gradually, things changed. They began to talk about sin, not just life's difficulties; to understand salvation, not just worry about the afterlife; to reflect on life transformation, not merely seek peace and smooth circumstances. Utilitarianism and superstition slowly faded. Even in hardship, they no longer expected "miraculous" experiences.
Ren searched for resources online and studied herself first before teaching others. The church gradually developed a steady rhythm: Bible study on Wednesdays, prayer meetings on Fridays, and the worship service on Sundays.
Fifty years have passed. Brother Cui and other believers gradually moved out of the countryside, and the gathering place relocated into resettlement housing. Two years ago, his wife passed away. His children are busy with their own lives, but he is not alone. Though he no longer guards the old courtyard, he continues to keep the promise he and his wife once made, persisting in the ministry of a host family.
- Translated by Charlie Li
