Textbooks tell the story of Fan Zhongyan（范仲淹）, the renowned statesman of the Northern Song dynasty.
That story may seem distant, but not to me: I am one of his descendants. Yet in another sense, it has always felt far removed from my life. For many years, his distinguished name was little more to me than a few characters recorded in our family genealogy.
Of course, I sometimes felt proud of the connection. He was, after all, a famous figure in Chinese history. But his reputation had little to do with the reality of my everyday life. Most of the time, it was simply an interesting fact I could mention when introducing myself.
Then one day, a friend exclaimed, “Wow! You are descended from a historical figure, and now you are also a fourth-generation Christian. The work of the gospel is amazing!”
It was an offhand comment, but it made me think seriously about the course of my life. How had the family line of Fan Zhongyan—a Northern Song statesman who seemed to have no connection whatsoever with Jesus Christ—come to be touched by God’s salvation? How had the gospel entered my family, passed through the stories of several generations, and finally reached me?
What has truly shaped my life is not the glow of a famous family name, but a quieter and deeper inheritance of faith.
Several generations ago, my family came to know Christ in the Tianjin area through a Canadian missionary. Several generations later, through my own experiences of brokenness and restoration, I found myself drawn into a calling involving media, radio, and gospel ministry.
A Canadian Missionary
The first person in my family to believe in Christ was my great-grandmother—my grandmother’s mother. I never met her, but everyone in our family knows her story.
Her husband worked for the customs service, probably in the Tianjin area, and therefore had more opportunities than most people to interact with foreigners. At some point, the family had the opportunity to host a missionary, and that was how the Christian faith entered our home. My aunts and uncles all remember that she was a Canadian missionary known to the family as “Miss Bi.”
We know very little about her. We no longer know which mission agency she belonged to or which church she served with. Those details have been lost over time. Yet the influence she left behind was profound.
Only later did I realize that faith was not the only evidence of her influence. In an era when relatively few women had access to education, my grandmother was able to attend Wuhu Girls’ High School. That means a great deal to me.
My eldest uncle, my father, and my younger uncle were all given English names drawn from the Bible: David, Paul, and James. My eldest uncle later went so far as to formally change his Chinese name to Fan Dawei—David Fan. My uncle and aunt also attended Christian schools.
The older members of the family recalled seeing the Bible my great-grandmother used to read. It was a large-print Bible printed on a fine paper known locally as “Dowling paper.” The Bible would have had considerable historical significance. Sadly, no one at the time thought about documenting or preserving such things. When my great-grandmother died, the Bible was placed in her coffin and buried with her.
Whenever I think about this, I am filled with wonder. A woman whose full story we can no longer reconstruct faithfully brought the gospel to one family in a particular place and time. Who could have imagined that, several generations later, one of that family’s descendants would continue sharing the gospel through radio and media?
Raised in a Christian Family, Yet Not Truly Knowing God
Although my father’s side of the family could already be considered third-generation Christian, my father himself never became firmly rooted in the church while growing up.
My mother’s first encounters with Christianity came in a very different way. As a child, she lived next door to a church and often went there because the church gave out food. Later in life, after my father had an affair and formed another family, my mother returned to God. It was through her that faith truly took root in our lives.
From childhood, I followed my mother to church. I knew that a Christian child was supposed to be good, and I knew that I was supposed to worship God. Yet for a long time, I did not have a genuine relationship with him.
My father’s absence affected me deeply. Beginning in junior high school, I longed to find love through romantic relationships, and I began living a double life. At a very young age, I was already searching for the feeling of being loved, protected, and affirmed. In some of those relationships, I crossed physical and emotional boundaries.
Outwardly, I continued attending church and serving. I appeared cheerful, enthusiastic, and committed. But I knew that deep inside me were shame, brokenness, and parts of my life I did not dare let anyone see.
Living that way was painful. I believed in God, yet I kept getting hurt and falling in my relationships and in the way I handled physical boundaries. I felt powerless to change. I was ashamed before God, and I was ready to give up on myself.
My hopes for love and marriage had been almost completely shattered. Because I had sinned against God, I believed I no longer deserved anything good.
Looking back now, however, I can see that God’s hand was on my life all along.
In high school, I had a falling-out with my best friend. I no longer wanted to remain in the classroom, so I signed up for every competition I could find, whether it was held inside or outside the school.
After placing in an impromptu-speaking competition, I began receiving training every day during the lunch break. At first, I was only trying to escape the classroom. Years later, I realized that my ability to speak, organize my thoughts, and respond quickly in the moment had all been developed during that season.
God also answered my prayers in very concrete ways.
Once, after only a month of impromptu-speaking training, I was chosen to represent my school in a competition. I had barely practiced any possible topics. In the preparation room, my teacher and I rehearsed one final topic: “My View on Club Activities.” She gave me a great deal of advice and helped me revise my approach.
Then I walked over to draw my competition topic. As I went, I prayed, “Lord, I am not asking for first place. Just please let me draw a topic I know how to talk about. I do not want to stand onstage for five minutes with nothing to say.”
I drew the topic we had just practiced: “My View on Club Activities.”
I won first place. My teacher stared in disbelief and said I had been incredibly lucky.
Now I know it was not luck.
The Night Grace Became Real
The most important turning point in my life came around 2009, when my mother and I traveled to Indonesia for a Christian conference.
At the time, I was serving in church while still living in sin. I had led many people to Christ, invited my entire class to church, and even started a Christian group at school. But only I knew how sinful and broken I believed myself to be.
During the conference, my senior pastor introduced me to his spiritual mentor, Pastor Philip Mantofa. Pastor Philip told me that he wanted to pray especially for me during the meeting that evening.
Part of me was excited, but another part of me was terrified. I was afraid that the pastor would discover what I had been doing in private. I thought God might tell him everything.
I spent the entire afternoon in fear, praying over and over again. Then I heard God say to me, “You need to tell your mother everything that has happened.”
My immediate response was, “Absolutely not!”
First, my mother was a minister. I was certain she would never be able to accept what I had done. Second, I knew that telling her would cause her great pain. I did not want to disappoint her.
I still remember that the evening meeting was scheduled to begin at seven. By six, I was already overwhelmed with anxiety and could not stop looking at the clock.
Finally, at six thirty, I gathered my courage and told my mother everything. I cried as I spoke because I was so ashamed.
When I had finished, my mother said, “I forgive you because Jesus has already forgiven you. The best thing about believing in Jesus is that we can always have a second chance.”
Her words completely healed and released me.
Through a person I could see and touch, the love of God became fully visible to me. My mother held me, prayed for me, and spoke a blessing over my future marriage.
The first worship song that evening was “Happy Day.” It was the first time I had ever cried while singing an upbeat song. The words “You washed my sin away” were no longer simply religious knowledge I had heard since childhood. They had become grace I had personally experienced.
I had always known that a new beginning was possible in Jesus. But only in that moment did it become true in my own life.
When Shame Became Testimony
Sometime after I confessed everything to my mother, my senior pastor began preparing for an evangelistic meeting. He told me that he wanted me to speak and asked me to prepare a draft of my message so that we could discuss it together.
My first draft was entirely about how richly God had blessed me and how happy my life had been since childhood. It was as though I had completely forgotten all the struggles and darkness I had lived through.
After listening, my pastor said, “Wenling, your life sounds as though everything has gone very smoothly. Have you ever struggled with anything?”
Only then did I suddenly remember the darker parts of my past.
I told him what had happened. These were the experiences I had once been most ashamed of—the things I had believed I could never tell anyone. Yet that day, I was not afraid, because I knew that God had already washed away my sin.
My pastor was shocked. He had had no idea that I had been living that way in private.
He was silent for a moment and then asked, “Are you really ready to share this part of your story? Why don’t you go home and pray about it?”
After praying, I told him that I was ready.
More than four hundred people attended the evangelistic meeting. After sharing my story, I invited those who wanted to respond to come forward.
Every young person came to the front in tears.
Almost all of them had lived through something similar: shame, secrets, parts of their lives they could not bear to expose, and the conviction that they were unworthy of love.
That day, I understood the power of the cross.
God can transform the sin that once held us captive into something he uses to draw others to himself. What the devil had once used to shame me became a weapon against his work.
From then on, I began to understand more deeply that God does not use only the polished, successful, stage-ready parts of my life. He can also use the parts I once most wanted to hide—the parts I was most afraid for anyone to see.
When grace touches shame, shame no longer remains only a wound. It can become a doorway through which someone else encounters God.
From the Stage into Hiddenness
God’s healing work in my life continues even now.
My father’s long absence, together with the reality that he had formed another family, made the heavenly Father seem distant to me for many years. This was one reason I wanted a boyfriend from such a young age. I was longing for a father’s love.
I was often drawn to boys and men older than I was because I enjoyed the feeling of being cared for.
Later, as I learned to surrender my life fully to God, he used many different experiences to teach me that he is my Father.
I have also continued learning that my identity and worth are not built on performance, public ministry, or the approval of others. This lesson became especially real after I moved to Singapore.
In Taiwan, I was very much a “stage person.” I led worship, I was a capable speaker, and I knew how to share the gospel. Simply put, I was the kind of church member pastors tend to love.
As a result, I was given many opportunities to serve. It was also easy for me to look to those opportunities for a sense of value and identity.
After I moved to Singapore, everything changed.
I had no connections, and no one knew about my gifts or abilities. It was as though I had been hidden away. At first, I found this deeply unsettling. I felt as though I were no longer needed.
Yet it was during that season, as I continued to pray, that I slowly came to understand that God did not love me because of what I could do.
My identity and worth were not built on my achievements.
From Radio to Gospel Broadcasting
When I married and moved to Singapore, missions was not the reason.
My involvement in gospel media ministry began later, after I joined TWR—Trans World Radio.
When I first arrived in Singapore, my immigration status did not yet allow me to work. I therefore spent some time resting and praying about what kind of work I might eventually do.
My mother-in-law was an avid radio listener. One day, she heard that a Singapore radio station was holding a talent search for new voices. She encouraged me to enter because she thought I had clear diction and a natural speaking voice.
So, I entered.
During the first round of auditions, I caught the attention of one of the judges. Although I did not advance to the final round, the station nevertheless invited me to receive further training.
I then began shadowing staff at the station. The senior colleague assigned to guide me was a committed Christian. She happened to have connections with TWR, and she eventually introduced me to the ministry.
That was how I began serving with TWR.
Looking back, I am continually amazed by how far God’s wisdom exceeds our own. Before he begins something, he has already been preparing the way in ways we cannot see.
Often, our part is simply to say yes and join him in the journey.
I now work in media production with TWR’s Chinese ministry, primarily producing gospel radio programs. For security reasons related to the ministry, many details cannot be shared publicly.
But I know that this work is connected to many earlier parts of my life: the speaking ability I developed when I was young, the experience I gained through serving in church, the season of waiting and hiddenness after I moved to Singapore, and the way God gradually led me into radio and media ministry.
Behind Every Name
Often, we first come to know a person through a name.
Fan Zhongyan is a name in a textbook.
My great-grandmother is a name passed down through family stories.
Miss Bi is a name that remains in our family’s memory, even though almost everything beyond that form of address has been lost.
My own name, too, once identified little more than a descendant listed in a genealogy, an apparently enthusiastic young person in church, or someone onstage who knew how to speak and serve.
But God never sees only a name.
Behind every name is a real person—a person with blood and tears, love and loss, shame and confusion, and a longing to be loved, forgiven, and given a new beginning.
This is true of the historical figures whose names we read on a page. It is true of the older generations whose stories gradually fade from family memory. It is also true of missionaries whose lives remain only in fragments of mission history.
Slowly, I have come to understand that my own story does not stand alone.
It is connected to a great-grandmother I never met, to a Canadian missionary remembered only as Miss Bi, to my mother’s embrace at the moment of my deepest shame, and to the people who now hear the gospel through radio programs.
God gathers these seemingly disconnected names, these broken experiences, a Bible no one thought to preserve, and the past I once wanted to hide. Little by little, he places them within his greater story.
So, if I were to say what I have learned, it would be this:
No one is merely a name in history, and no part of a life is merely a failure or an accident. Every living person is seen and sought by God and called into his story.
My part is simply to keep saying yes whenever he invites me again.
