Never did I fully understand the differences between the religion my family worshiped since my childhood and Christianity, which I embraced in my early 30s. Growing up, I followed the gods my grandmother and mother worshiped as far back as I can remember. My grandmother was a devout woman, worshiping each morning and late afternoon, though I didn’t always understand whether it was directed toward heaven or a particular god or goddess. I stood beside her, holding incense sticks as she prayed, asking for blessings on our family. My mother followed the same practices, just as my grandmother had. Once, I asked my mother whom she worshiped, and she simply replied, “Just follow our tradition, as your grandma did.” Although I didn’t get a clear answer, I felt satisfied, trusting that their devotion was right and their hearts sincere.

In 1999, while studying in the United States, I found myself surrounded by Christians. They invited me to their weekly meetings, where they sang hymns, taught from the Bible, and shared their spiritual journeys. Initially, I attended for the companionship and hospitality, a chance to make friends in a foreign country. One day, the group leader asked if I wanted to be a Christian. I thought, ‘Why not?’ I could see they were kind people, and I didn’t think I had anything to lose. So, I accepted the invitation.

One day, the group leader asked me whether I wanted to be a Christian. I replied, “Why not? They seem like good people, and I won’t lose anything by trying.” So, I accepted his invitation. However, the group leader also mentioned that to be a Christian, I should read the Bible. I recalled that I had read the Bible when I was in college, as I was a literature major. With that in mind, I picked up the Bible and began to read it. After reading it for two weeks, I found myself unable to continue. I thought to myself that if reading the Bible was required to be a Christian, then I didn’t want to go down that path anymore. It felt meaningless to me, as I didn’t understand what I was reading.

Then, I was reminded by the leader that I should be filled with the Holy Spirit (although at the time, I didn’t understand why this was necessary). One Thursday night, I printed out a sheet from the internet that provided guidance for Christians on how to be filled with the Holy Spirit. I knelt down, holding the sheet, and asked God to fill me with His Spirit, stating that I wouldn’t stand up until He did. After about two hours, I felt exhausted and sleepy, and nothing had happened. Eventually, I gave up and went to sleep.

Two days later, on Saturday morning, my group leader invited me to attend a special meeting where a prophet from another city was speaking. During the meeting, he discussed some Bible verses from the book of 2 Corinthians and prayed for everyone at the end. I was the last person to be prayed for. As he laid his hand on my head, I instantly felt an electric current running through my entire body. I couldn’t stand and was knocked to the floor. I tried to get up but found that I couldn’t move. Minutes later, I regained my ability to move, and the moment I stood up, I began to speak in tongues for a while. I don’t know exactly what happened to me that day, but I do know that God’s Spirit was upon me by His grace. From that day on, I developed a longing to read the Bible. I even found myself wishing for morning to come in the evening so I could spend time with God, reading His Word and worshiping Him in prayer and praise.

God is a living God and is real in my life.