Berkley Center

The founding of the People’s Republic of China (PRC) and the subsequent expulsion of all Christian missionaries from the Celestial Kingdom was by all accounts to be the death blow to what had been a long and frustrating century of missionary work that had begun with such promise during the American Second Great Awakening. From 1951 onward, the few churches that were permitted to remain open were reorganized under the banner of the Three-Self Patriotic Movement (TSPM), which as its stated purpose sought to make Christian theology subservient to communist ideology. Hundreds of pastors, priests, and converts to Christianity were killed then and in the ensuing anti-rightist and Cultural Revolution campaigns.

It would take a lot of faith, in other words, to believe that Christianity could survive such a series of setbacks, especially given what was viewed as a fairly weak base of indigenous believers who now found themselves cut off from their foreign teachers and donors. Who, though, could have predicted that not only would Christianity survive the Maoist years, but that it would by the end of the twentieth century have emerged as the most dynamic and transforming force in China, with a population close to or exceeding 100 million believers.

Yet Christianity retains a complex, even contradictory status in modern China. Like Chinese Muslims, Christians often face limitations to the practice of their faith based on their ethnic identity. On one hand, there are Christians who are members of minority groups, such as the Lisu of Northwest Yunnan province. The Lisu are an anomaly in that they are majority Christian, the fruit of one of the most successful nineteenth-century inland missionary endeavors. A peaceful, relatively insignificant minority group hidden away in the Nujiang mountain valley, a day'’s bus ride from the nearest urban center, the PRC allows the Lisu to practice their faith without much interference. A language barrier (the Lisu speak, you guessed it, Lisu, which is Tibeto-Burman) helps, too.

On the other hand, Han Christians face some tough decisions. Han believers have two choices for how they can practice their faith. First, they can attend a Three-Self church. Much of the overt politicization of theology has been done away with, thankfully, though it remains subject to government monitoring and control. A visit to Sunday services at a Three-Self church, which I'’ve had the chance to do several times, is a pleasant experience: the congregation overflows the three floors of seating (you have to arrive 30 minutes early or face standing for the nearly two-hour service), a robed choir leads the assembled in a mix of Chinese and Western (in translation) hymns, and passages from the Bible are read and preached on in the mainline Protestant tradition. Bibles are for sale (at the ridiculously cheap price of 9 kuai, or $1.20) alongside translations of popular Christian books by Rick Warren, Alister McGrath, and Dietrich Bonhoeffer. It is fair to say, in my opinion, that the Three-Self churches, at least those in Kunming, have a lot going for them.

That being said, I share with my friends in the house churches some concerns about the TSPM. The biggest problem is theological: the framework of “reconstructing” theology to make it subservient to communism and the ruling clique has not fully been dismantled, and there is a heavy modernist (anti-supernatural) slant on scripture, leading to sermons that emphasize non-controversial themes such as “"God is love"” or "“love your neighbor,"” as opposed to a more evangelical (and, in the minds of Communist Party leaders, threatening) message. Another oddity is the translation of the Bible read from and sold at TSPM churches. The Chinese Union version was first published in 1919, and it contains many anachronisms and grammar structures that make some parts rather unintelligible for the average Chinese (and certainly so for laowai like myself). Despite a more recent translation that has won favor with many house churches, the TSPM is sticking with the Union version, which, at least according to my more cynical house church friends, is an attempt to keep the Bible out of the hands of the common people. At the same time, however, I’'ve seen TSPM churches that hold Sunday school classes for children, despite the fact that Chinese law forbids it, because they believe themselves accountable to a higher authority as well. Tendencies in the West, therefore, to deride the TSPM as in the pocket of the authorities must at least consider the great number of faithful Christians and pastors that make up the local face of the TSPM.

Nevertheless, for the majority of Chinese believers, they have chosen the second option for how to exercise their faith: the house churches, which are not registered with the government and are often not accountable to anyone but themselves. As much as 80 percent of China’'s Christians meet in house churches. The Chinese government has particular concern regarding these “cells” of believers not only because they operate outside the realm of government supervision, but also because the structure of the house church network in fact closely resembles that of the Chinese Communist Party before it took power in 1949. And as long as these facts stand, the government will continue to pressure these churches to register or face serious consequences. But, ultimately, despite whatever pressures Chinese Christians are met with, they are here to stay, they are growing, and they are changing the face of religion in China.