A decade ago, just as China was cracking open its doors to the West, a student named Lei Sun set out from Shanghai and arrived, a stranger, in Newark, New Jersey.
While in China, Sun rarely spoke of religion, yet secretly thirsted for a spiritual life. He had paged through the Christian Bible, but considered it merely a historical text to be read for its peculiar plot and characters.
Then, one Sunday morning, he settled into a pew in the Chinese Christian Church of New Jersey, and all of that began to change.
"We didn’t have cars, so they drove us," he said. "We didn’t have food, but we were invited to eat. We asked, ‘Why are they doing that? It doesn’t benefit them. And why are they so happy?’
"We listened and we gradually began to believe. That’s how most of us come to the church. The people here are examples of how to give and sacrifice, so we can go and try to do the same."
Sun, 33, is part of this suburban congregation’s fastest-growing segment: immigrants from mainland China, drawn here to escape the remnants of Mao Tse-tung’s failed Cultural Revolution.
For immigrants arriving for the first time, churches have become a guiding hand and support. In a recent survey by Barna Research, a respected Christian polling firm, 27 percent of Asian-Americans described themselves as evangelical Christians, compared with 5 percent in 1991.
Through these newcomers’ faith, older church members say their own is revitalized; witnessing their weary eyes open, they relive their own spiritual birth.
And for the American-born children who may never know communist rule, the new members’ presence is a reminder that prayer can be cause for imprisonment - or worse - in their parents’ homeland.
Just last month, 130 evangelical Christians - including three Americans - were arrested in central China for attending a revival, one day after a government leader said the nation had entered a "golden age" of freer expression.
"God did a wonderful job letting the communists take over China," said T.Y. Lee, chairman of the church’s board of trustees. "Mao wouldn’t allow superstition or prayer, so people had to keep it inside. Now when the mainlanders come here they are so eager to hear the Gospel. Every time we talk about God’s love they cry."
"It’s amazing," said Charles Oo, a Parsippany resident who works at Roche Laboratories in Nutley. "You can really see these people’s commitment."
More than 11 million persons of Asian descent live in the United States, according to U.S. Census Bureau estimates. The agency reported 6,000 Chinese-Americans living in Morris County in 1990, the latest such figures available.
The Chinese Christian Church had its genesis in a prayer group, formed in 1964 by three Taiwanese families in East Orange. It has grown from 150 members in the late 1980s to more than 1,000 today, the mighty leap made possible through the $1.2 million construction of its church on South Beverwyck Road.
Services are offered in four languages: Mandarin, China’s more common tongue; Cantonese, spoken in the nation’s southern end; Taiwanese and English. Each Sunday the church fills with song - modern verses accompanied by acoustic guitar in the youth-centered English service and more solemn hymns during the earlier Mandarin fellowship. Afterward, congregants line up downstairs for white rice and steamed vegetables donated by two local Chinese restaurants.
Daniel Voo was one of the original group, a boy of 9 whose family moved to East Orange from Cincinnati. Until then he had almost no contact with other Chinese immigrants.
Today he encourages his two sons to speak Mandarin at home, in part so they can welcome new members in their church.
"Even though we have many groups we still consider ourselves one church," he said. "We make sure people are communicating across linguistic lines so no one feels isolated."
Sun and his compatriots are part of the most recent immigrant wave from China, a largely educated group of students, engineers and researchers working in fields where a command of English isn’t critical.
"We grew up in the new China," Sun said. "Party leaders said, ‘You have to be useful to society.' But you looked at them and they weren’t doing that. People wanted to believe in something."
Sun went on to earn a doctorate in biology from Rutgers University and now works as a financial consultant with Salomon Smith Barney in Morristown. He and his wife, who joined him shortly after his arrival here, have a 6-year-old son who qualifies as what group elders call ABCs: American-Born Chinese.
But if the younger generation has been quick to adapt to and embrace its new culture and religious life, many elder immigrants are still plagued by the "shadow of Communist rule," as several church leaders put it. For them, freedom is a principle they have yet to fully exploit in practice.
Laura Foo, a native of Taiwan, said her husband often recounts conversations he’s had with fellow Chinese engineers, who even now fear voicing criticism of Chinese policy.
"Sometimes people who come from the same place in China don’t want to talk to one another," she said. "Some keep their distance and don’t discuss things like politics."
Despite such barriers, Foo has witnessed a kinship develop between mainland Chinese and Taiwanese here that would not be possible in China.
"With us, since we don’t have a connection with the Chinese government, they feel they can talk," Foo said, while eating lunch at Noodle Chu in Parsippany one recent Friday. At noon, the restaurant was filled to capacity with Chinese-American patrons.
Beside Foo sat Emily Au, a Parsippany resident whose father attends the church’s Cantonese service.
For Au, evidence of the Chinese community’s growth abounds at the Mountain Lakes YMCA. When she and her family joined in 1992, they met few other Chinese-Americans. Now, of the 30 newest children on the swim team, half have Chinese parents, she said.
What saddens her, however, is how many of those parents insist on maintaining the competitive spirit encouraged in many areas of China, where children with proven talents are often separated from their parents at an early age for training at a national level.
"The parents at the Y are very serious," Au said. "In their notebooks they write down other kids’ times. One new girl, she’s very good. But her mother is very intense. She stares straight ahead and doesn’t talk to anyone."
Yet Chinese natives understand the oppressive past from which such attitudes spring.
Linda Cheng, an usher at the church, traveled to China for the first time in 10 years this summer. She went to speak with old friends and to see her husband and son, who live in Beijing. Her primary goal, though , was to spread the Christian message, despite Chinese laws that prohibit foreign missionary work.
"One day," she said, "I met with my old work crew and some teachers and told them I had been baptized. They were very surprised. One woman was the member of the Communist Party. She was afraid to go to church. She said she dared to speak to God only in her heart."
Pastor Ken Tom, a self-described "catalytic missionary" who promotes English-language congregations in the nation’s Chinese-language churches, described the energizing interaction between old and new members in a recent guest sermon.
"Longtime members can help newcomers assimilate and use their essential ‘newness’ to create new projects and respond to new needs," he said.
Young people, who trustee board chairman Lee said "often can’t appreciate old world life," continually are encouraged to strengthen their bonds through missionary work within that world.
With his knowledge of Mandarin and Taiwanese, John Wu traveled to Taiwan this summer to teach English to middle school students, many of whom lost parents to a major earthquake last September. He hopes to make a trip to mainland China next year.
"I want to go back and follow up," the 16-year-old said. "I feel like we just planted seeds."
Several groups meet for Bible study on Friday nights. Jim Lee, an entrepreneur who speaks excellent English, said he prefers to pray in his native Mandarin.
After his arrival from Beijing in 1986, he landed in upstate New York, where he struggled to understand English church services.
Now he, his wife and two children live in Little Falls, but plan to join other congregants in the Hunting Ridge condominiums near the juncture of Route 46 and Beverwyck Road.
"When I came here I heard people speaking my language," he said, "and right away I felt at home."
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