Zhou and Sha

In the summer of 2006, a year after starting work, I moved alone to Hangzhou. That autumn, I accepted a friend’s invitation to “sing and eat together on Sundays,” and unexpectedly found myself stepping into a Christian church.

It was then that I met Zhou and Sha.

Now, when I see young newcomers who have just started their careers, especially the young brothers in church, I always feel a sense of care towards them. I see my 2006 self in them: full of ideals, energy, passion, and also a bit naive, confused, and clueless. I also often think back to the first Christian couple I met in my youth — Zhou and Sha — and the impact and help they gave me.

Zhou and Sha weren’t much older than me, really. In 2006, I was 23, and Zhou was maybe around 28. Looking back at myself at 28, I didn’t have the same level of maturity, love, and openness to care for those around me as they did.

Whenever I talk about my faith journey, I must mention that little church in Hangzhou. One of the major reasons I stayed and never left church was Zhou and Sha’s kitchen.

At that time, the church gatherings were held at their home. Sha was an excellent cook, and I practically never missed a Friday dinner there. After work on Wen’er Road, I’d bike to their place. I’d head straight to the kitchen, sit down, and eat (since I usually got off work late, they’d often already finished their meal). I wasn’t shy about it — I almost treated it like my own home. Sha, busy as always, would say, “Eat more, eat more,” while Zhou, when he had time, would sit at the table discussing news or literature, cracking jokes. Meanwhile, I’d just focus on eating.

Sometimes, half-jokingly, I’d tell others that the reason I managed to stick with the church in the early days was because of Sha’s kitchen. But of course, it wasn’t just about the kitchen; it was their love inspired by their Christian faith. There were several others like me, “single diners,” welcomed at their table.

When you’re single, knowing a mature couple, particularly a Christian one, is a blessing. As a single person, the future is full of dreams but also of ignorance. How should I live in the future? What kind of friends should I make? Who should I marry? In these areas, Zhou and Sha had a profound impact on me, shaping much of my understanding.

By the world’s standards (house, car, dowry), I shouldn’t have been able to marry at 26.

When I saw the life Zhou and Sha had, felt their daily routine up close, I updated my understanding. Money isn’t the only condition for happiness in marriage and family. Even in need, laughter and happiness are possible; caring for and comforting others around you is possible. That’s the kind of married life I envisioned. In today’s world, many young singles feel burdened by the high cost of marriage and lose motivation and hope for marriage due to the unhappy ones they hear about.

During my years in Hangzhou, Zhou and Sha always rented homes, and I helped them move two or three times. Each time, Sha would have the house clean and cozy, filled with the “Zhou and Sha family” atmosphere. Their home was always open to brothers and sisters from the church, sharing meals, conversations, and Bible study. Many such warm scenes are still vivid in my mind. Being with a family like that built my confidence: Who says you need to buy a house to get married? This was a great comfort and encouragement for my own future road.

Zhou is knowledgeable, humorous, enthusiastic, and optimistic. There’s never a dull moment with him. Faith, politics, literature, economic topics — he discusses them all fluently. I wasn’t very articulate back then and was pretty uninformed (still haven’t improved much), but listening to Zhou still broadened my horizons. At least I got to hear about notable scholars, stories, books, like Liu Junning, Max Weber, David Livingstone, Hudson Taylor, and John R. Mott. After leaving Hangzhou, I regretted not having more conversations and learning more from Zhou. So every time we met after that, I sought out his “knowledge warmth.” By the way, Zhou’s specialty dish is stir-fried tomatoes and eggs (I’ve never tasted it, just heard about it); his unique skill is the art of ambidextrous fighting. 😄 (What’s that skill? Those who know will know.)

In 2006, I arrived in Hangzhou, got married, and my daughter was born. Seven years later, in 2013, I joined Liulishuo and left Hangzhou for Shanghai. Now it’s 2020, another seven years. Since leaving Hangzhou, I’ve seen Zhou and Sha less often, maybe once or twice a year. Time and distance really do fade feelings, and love isn’t something easily expressed. So I’m writing to remember and keep.

Thank you both, Zhou and Sha. For you, welcoming a young person was probably just an ordinary thing. But for me, the help and impact you provided have been lasting.