On March 19, 1847, a missionary by the name of Rev. R. Lechler arrived in Hong Kong where he learned to speak and write Chinese, imitated the Chinese customs, dyed his hair from red to black, grew a pigtail, wore Chinese clothes, used chopsticks, and essentially became an “authentic Chinese.” His intended work field was Ling Dong of the Guangdong Province. Along the small seaport villages near Swatow, he worked and worked but was not welcomed and was eventually chased away by the government officials.

On February 12, 1848, he came back to a seaport called Eanchow. On October 21 of the same year, he baptized two people. One of them was Ahjoe, my great grandfather. Since Christianity was unheard of before my great grandfather became a Christian, his family lost all respect for him. His father went so far as to put my great grandfather in a sack bag and dump him into the sea. He was saved by some villagers, but was disowned by his wealthy family, so he became a fisherman. God blessed him, and in time he had great wealth. He served God well and encouraged his family to serve Him as well, which my grandfather did. My grandfather had five sons. His eldest became a missionary, the second became a doctor, the third helped with the family fishery business, and the fourth son, my father, and the fifth son were still young going to school. Grandfather was a deacon and treasurer of the Eanchow church, and everything was going well.

Then on August 2, 1923, there was a tsunami along the seaside near Swatow.

Nobody knew exactly how many people were killed, but it was estimated that one third of the whole Eanchow village was gone. My grandfather, my grandmother, and all of his children except his third son and my father died. Other family lived with my grandparents as well. Eleven of the thirteen people living in his home were gone in a moment. My uncle left the village to study and became a missionary to Thailand. My father, 13 years old and homeless, left the village and went to Swatow to find a life for himself. My father eventually had a family, and I was his firstborn, a daughter. After me came another daughter and two sons. Father did not talk too much; when he did talk, he said only the essentials. When he talked about his childhood, his story always began with the tsunami because everything prior to that seemed to be a blank. Each time we urged him to tell us the story about his childhood, his eyes would always swell with tears, so the story was seldom told but deeply etched in my heart.

Father was a devoted Christian. He rested on Sundays and took the whole family to church. He paid tithes and read the Bible. But his prayers, like his conversations with people, were always short and to the point. For example, when he said grace at meal time, he never said anything beyond, “Thank you Heavenly Father, for giving us peace that comes with the food. All this by Your grace. Amen.” He said his dream was that one day Jesus would come and scoop him up and he would be going, going, and gone. He died at age 70.

I am a fourth generation Christian. My father and his father and grandfather had a profound influence on me. I seek to know God more in my adult life and am striving to be faithful to Him in my everyday life. When I heard of the recent tsunami that struck Southeast Asia, killing over 200,000, my memory could only run back to the story my father would tell me of his childhood. Some people try to offer explanations of why God let this happen. However, as for those who have no explanation, you have company. The answer for me is simply a mystery, like many other things that happen in life. Only God has the answer, and I will have to just wait to get that answer. In the meantime, I will continue to walk faithfully with my God.

(Susan and her husband Nelson live in Los Angeles County. She is a deacon of Ling Dong Chinese Hope Baptist Church in Montebello. )