In a small-town school, many children attended classes together. They read the same books, sang the same songs, and listened to their teachers’ lessons. But one little girl was different from the others. Her name was Sarah, and she was Jewish.
She was very smart and learned things quickly. Subjects like geography and arithmetic were finished in no time. While the other children were still working on their assignments, she had already finished her book and sat quietly.
There was one class she couldn’t attend—religion class. Because she was Jewish, she couldn’t learn Christian doctrine. The teacher told her to review other lessons during that time or read books on her own.
But she didn’t read. She sat at the back of the classroom, quietly listening to the religion lesson. Her dark eyes shone brightly, fixed on the teacher as if afraid to miss a single word.
The teacher noticed her. He asked her questions, and she answered better than anyone else. She remembered everything she heard and understood it clearly.
“Sarah, you should be reading your own book,” the teacher said gently.
“But I want to listen,” she replied softly.
The teacher felt a pang of sorrow. He knew this child wasn’t being naughty, but genuinely eager to learn. Her expression was so earnest, her gaze so sincere, it tugged at the heartstrings.
The Father’s Promise
Sarah’s father was poor, but he was an upright man. He went to the school and told the teacher, “Please don’t teach my daughter Christian things. She is Jewish, and we must keep our faith.”
The teacher considered this and said, “If we send her out during lessons, the other children will become curious and ask questions. It would be better to let her stay in class, but without forcing her to accept anything.”
Her father agreed. But this situation couldn’t continue indefinitely.
Later, the teacher visited their home. He said to the father, “Could you please take Sarah home? Or, could you allow her to become a Christian?”
Hearing this, tears welled up in the father’s eyes. He said, “I know little about Judaism, but her mother was a devout Jew. As she lay dying, I held her hand and promised her: ‘I will not let our children become Christians.’ That vow was made not only to her, but to God. I cannot break it.”
And so, Sarah left that Christian school.
Sara as an Adult
Many years passed. Sara grew up and became a maid, working for a Christian family. She lived in a small town in Yulan, in a modest house, not living in luxury.
She rose early every day, cleaning rooms, doing laundry, cooking meals, and caring for her employers’ family. She worked diligently, never cutting corners. When her employer fell ill, she stayed by their bedside day and night.
Every Sunday, the church bells would ring, and people would walk into the church, singing hymns. The organ music drifted out onto the street and into the kitchen where Sarah worked.
That day was the Sabbath—for Jews, a day of rest and worshiping God. But Sarah couldn’t rest. She still had to work, busy serving the Christian family.
As she wiped the tables, she listened to the distant singing. She thought to herself: “Does God care which day we worship Him? He cares about our hearts. As long as I remember Him in my heart, even washing dishes can be a sacred moment.”
So, in her spare moments, she took out a book—her most precious possession: the Old Testament. It was left to her by her father and represented the faith of her ancestors.
This was the only book she could read. For on her mother’s deathbed, her father had promised never to let her become a Christian. She was determined to keep that promise.
A Story, A Touch
One evening, the master sat reading in the parlor. Sarah quietly mended clothes in a corner. She shouldn’t have listened, but he wasn’t reading the Gospel—just an old storybook. A little listening couldn’t hurt.
The tale told of a Hungarian knight captured by a Turkish general. The cruel general harnessed the knight to a plow alongside oxen, forcing him to till the fields like a beast while lashing him with a whip.
The knight’s wife sold all her jewels, borrowed money, and finally gathered enough ransom to free her husband. But the knight had fallen gravely ill.
Soon, the country was at war again. Hearing the news, the knight immediately had himself lifted onto his horse. “I must go,” he declared. He fought in the battle and won. The general who had once humiliated him was now his prisoner.
The general was brought to the castle. The knight asked him, “What do you think I will do to you?”
The general replied, “I know you will take revenge.”
The knight replied, “You are half right. I am a Christian, so my revenge is—to forgive you. Christianity teaches us to love our enemies and forgive others. You may go home now. I only hope you will show more mercy to those who suffer in the future.”
Hearing this, the general suddenly wept. “I never expected this,” he said. “I thought I would be tortured to death. In truth, I have already taken poison and have only hours left. But before I die, please tell me again about this doctrine of love. Let me know before I die that such goodness still exists in the world. Let me die as a Christian.”
Everyone was moved by this story. But the one most deeply touched was Sarah, sitting in the corner.
Tears fell one by one, landing on her hands. She recalled her childhood, sitting in the classroom during religion class. Even then, she felt Christian words were like sunlight, shining into her heart.
But now, she couldn’t admit to this feeling. She remembered her mother’s last words: “Don’t let my child become a Christian.”
Those words weighed on her heart like a stone.
Inner Struggle
That night, Sarah lay awake in bed.
She thought: Why do Christian words move me so deeply? Why do they feel so true? If they’re wrong, how can they make people kind?
But she quickly silenced herself: “No, I mustn’t waver. Mom looked at Dad before she died, and he promised her. That was a sacred vow. I must honor my parents.”
She told herself: “I won’t go to church, I won’t be baptized, I won’t read the New Testament. If others call me a ‘Jewish girl,’ then I’ll be a Jewish girl. But my heart… why is my heart so troubled?”
She began to fear. She feared her heart had quietly embraced Christian ideas. She feared betraying her ancestors’ faith.
Yet she also understood some things couldn’t be feigned. When she heard phrases like “love your enemies” and “forgive others,” her heart truly stirred. That feeling—it wasn’t pretense.
When the Master Fell Ill, She Became the Pillar
Years later, the master passed away. The mistress’s health deteriorated, and the household grew poorer. She had to dismiss the servants, but Sarah stayed.
“I cannot leave you now,” she said.
She single-handedly supported the entire household. She worked by day and tended the sick by night. She washed clothes, cooked meals, bought groceries, scrubbed floors—busy until late into the night.
The mistress lay bedridden, unable to rise for months. Watching Sarah, her heart overflowed with gratitude.
One night, her voice faint, she asked, “Sarah, the night is so long. Could you read something to me? I want to hear God’s words.”
Sarah froze. She knew the mistress meant the Bible. But could she read it? It was a Christian book.
After a long hesitation, she finally murmured softly, “Alright, I’ll read.”
She took out the Old Testament, opened a page, and began to read. Her voice was quiet but clear.
As she read, tears streamed down her face. Yet her eyes grew brighter and brighter, and her heart grew clearer and clearer.
Suddenly, she understood something.
She set the book down and whispered, “Mother, I promise you, I won’t be baptized or attend Christian gatherings. That’s your wish, and I won’t disobey. But Mother, I understand now—God’s love isn’t just a religious name. It’s real, and it can change people.”
She continued reading, reaching the words in the New Testament. She didn’t know how she started, but she couldn’t stop.
When she read the name “Christ,” her whole body trembled, as if a wave of warmth washed through her. She suddenly felt a peace and light she had never known before.
As she read on, her body went limp, and she collapsed to the floor.
The Final Moment
“Poor Sarah!” people said. “She was so exhausted, caring for the sick day and night, that she collapsed herself.”
They took her to the hospital. But she never regained consciousness. Days later, she quietly left this world.
People wanted to bury her in the church cemetery, but it was impossible. Because she was Jewish, the Christian burial ground would not accept her.
Finally, they dug a grave for her outside the cemetery wall.
She was laid to rest there, alone and quiet.
Yet God’s sunlight still shone upon her grave. The church bells still rang out to her resting place. The wind carried the sound of hymns:
“Christ our Savior is risen! He said to His disciples: ‘John baptized you with water, but I will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.’”
No one knew that though Sarah had never been baptized, her heart had long been cleansed by that very love.
The Truth Behind the Story
This story isn’t about “which religion is better,” but about how a person finds their own path between faith and love.
Sarah struggled her entire life: on one side, her mother’s dying words and her family’s faith; on the other, the truth and love she felt within her heart.
She did not openly betray her people, yet she did not deny her own heart either.She expressed her faith through actions—caring for the sick, working honestly, forgiving others. These were precisely the lessons she learned from Christian stories.
She never took baptism, yet her life embodied its meaning—cleansed by love, filled with goodness.
True faith lies not in which religion you belong to, but in how you treat others.
What Lessons Does This Story Teach Us?
- Faith is not a label, but a way of life. Sarah never changed her name or entered a church, yet she lived more faithfully than many “believers.”
- Love transcends religious boundaries. A Jewish girl moved by Christian stories—not because she betrayed herself, but because she saw the most beautiful aspects of humanity.
- Promises matter, but conscience matters more. She kept her promise to her mother, yet she didn’t deceive her own heart. She found a third way—not speaking it aloud, but living it out.
- Kindness itself is a form of prayer. She didn’t loudly proclaim her faith, but through decades of hard work, she demonstrated what love truly is.
- God’s light shines upon all people. Whether on Christian graves or solitary tombs beyond the wall, the sun’s warmth is the same.
So this story tells us:
You need not change your name, nor shout aloud, as long as love dwells within your heart, you are closest to God.
