John Ding

Two little-known heroes of the faith were John Ding and his wife Ju Yuming, who were serving Kangding when the People’s Liberation Army swept through the area.

Ding, a native of Shanghai, thought God might be calling him to Tibet when he met a beautiful young Christian lady named Ju Yiming. His cautious nature resulted in him taking his time before asking Ju to be his wife, and when he finally mustered enough courage he said, “Perhaps I’m not what you would want in a husband. You’re like a Mary while I’m more like a Martha. I’m Mr. Fix-it while you are a scholar.”

“Those differences could complement one another,” Ju replied.

When Ding told her that he thought God might be calling him to a life or missionary service among the Tibetan people, Ju replied, “Well, if you are my husband, I’ll certainly go where you go. And if that means Tibet, so be it.”

When the newlyweds arrived in Kangding in 1949, they were amazed to see the variety of believers in the town’s thriving church. Ding recalled:

We had an assembly of great variety: Han Chinese, Westerners, and some Tibetans; Christian workers, a few old believers, many new converts, and some inquirers. Never before had the church had such a harvest as this, and never before so many workers in the harvest.” 

The years passed, and eventually all foreign missionaries were expelled from China. After several years of relative calm, November 29, 1958, proved to be a horrible day for Ding and Ju, when several soldiers burst into their home with their guns drawn. They dragged the couple away as Ding looked at his beloved wife and said, “The time has come. Hallelujah!”

She responded: “Yes, the time has come; praise the Lord!”

Many years later, John Ding recalled the events of that fateful evening:

One of the men demanded, ‘Where are your guns? We know you have them.’ 

I picked up my Bible. ‘This is my weapon,’ he replied quietly.

They ignored this but roughly told us: ‘We’re taking you to prison. Get a quilt and any other necessities and be quick about it!’ Yiming whispered to me, ‘Take a Tibetan gown. It will keep you warm.’

Following her advice, I chose my grey wool robe, little realizing that it would stay with me for the next 22 years, though by that time somewhat threadbare.

Ding discovered that he was one of the few Han Chinese inmates in the prison, and that almost all the other men were Khampa warriors who had been labelled separatists and counter-revolutionaries by the Communist authorities. After a few weeks, the Tibetans saw that Ding was different from the other Chinese. He was humble and seemed to genuinely care for them. They treated Ding like one of their own, which brought great comfort to Ding once his hardships began in earnest. He recalled:

I was beaten; I was strung up by ropes and pummeled. What I particularly remember is that when I was thrown back into my cell, still filled with Tibetans, the lamas clustered around me, examined my bruises, and got out some of their precious yak butter, and gave me a gentle rubdown …

In turn, I did my best to help the other prisoners when they came back from torture. Sometimes we had to witness brutal treatment right in our cell, like the time when one traitor had wet yak hide tied around his head and left to dry. When that process seemed to be going too slow, a guard took a chopstick and began to twist the thongs tighter and tighter. The man shrieked in pain. It was appalling and shook us to the core. Of course, that is why we were forced to witness it.

Months after his arrest, Ding learned that his wife was working as a cook for the wives of the prison staff. He also heard that she was getting into trouble by boldly sharing the gospel with everyone she met.

Time slowly passed, until it had been three years since Ding and Ju had seen each other. John often imagined what his beloved wife now looked like, but one day when he was working out on a mountain slope he was shocked and delighted to see her coming up the trail with a basket on her back. He quickly seized the moment, asking how she was. Ding later recalled their precious conversation:

[Ju had replied:] ‘There have been some bad days. I got reported for witnessing, and the guards beat me for that. Some of the staff women are Christians, and I urged them to be faithful. That got me into trouble. But God has been so good all along.’

Then hearing footsteps on the path, she said, ‘Someone’s coming.’

‘I love you, Yiming,’ I whispered. ‘I pray for you so much!’

‘And I pray for you, John, that your faith will fail not.’ And with that she moved slowly up the hill.

John Ding was overjoyed with the brief interaction he had that day, not realizing it was the last time he would see his wife in this world.

The years rolled on, with John Ding remaining in prison because of his faith in Christ Jesus. Seasons of harsh persecution came and went as China lurched into chaos under Mao’s policies.

On one occasion, Ding was called into the prison torture room, where his hands were tied tightly behind his back and a bucket of human excrement was emptied over his head. The guards cruelly left him in that position for days …

Never giving him a chance to clean himself. He was given food, but with his hands tied behind his back, he had to lie on the floor and lick it up like an animal. The food had to pass through soiled lips. He did not deny his faith and refused to admit to crimes he had not committed… . The inmates were told they would all be kept like this indefinitely unless they forced him to comply with the demands of his interrogators. To survive, these criminals now competed in torturing him day and night (DC Talk and The Voice of the Martyrs, Jesus Freaks: Stories of Those Who Stood for Jesus, Vol. 2 (Minneapolis, MN: Bethany House, 2002), p. 271).

In 1960, Ding was suddenly transferred to a prison in Chengdu, where he spent the next seven years. He was surprised to find that the new facility was also filled with Tibetans and noted: “All along I had marveled at the mysterious ways of God in continuing my ministry to Tibetans. I probably talked to more Tibetans in prison than I did while I was outside.”

Ding was befriended by many of the Khampa inmates. One day the prison warden commanded the Tibetans to cut off their long braids of hair. The order was so loathsome to the Khampa warriors that they were on the verge of rioting in protest. Ding, who was also a barber, persuaded them to let him cut off their hair by arranging to have each braid labelled and placed in storage with the prisoner’s possessions.

John Ding had received no further news about his wife until one day, during questioning, his interrogators casually remarked, “Your wife was just like you. She wouldn’t stop praying, and we had to put her in a struggle session. She wouldn’t give in, even when she was beaten. After that she died.”

John was crushed by this news and was angry when he discovered that his beloved wife had been dead for three years before he was notified. A short time later Ding wrote a confession of his “crimes,” much to the glee of his captors. He went back and scratched out large portions of it, however, which led to him being sent back to the Kangding prison for another two years.

Ding was finally released from prison in 1981, after more than 22 years in captivity. He had remained faithful to the Lord, and after returning to his home city of Shanghai he became a friend of Wang Mingdao, the great Chinese house church patriarch, who had spent 25 years in prison for his faith. The two disciples had much in common.

One day John Ding received a letter from the government, which stated: “We have been reviewing your case and have come to the conclusion that there is no substance to the charges against you.” Ding sighed, fell to his knees as he had done countless times before, and recommitted his life to his Saviour, Jesus Christ.

After such prolonged hardship, the last part of Ding’s life could scarcely be imagined. He married a Christian widow, and when his criminal record was erased, he procured a passport and was able to visit the United States in the late 1980s at the invitation of some of his former missionary friends. He finally went to his eternal reward in the 1990s.