“’Yung Papa ko ay isang Bible smuggler…legit.”
It sounds dramatic–and it was. But not in the way you might think.
In some parts of the world, faith isn’t part of people’s freedom. Having a Bible could get you arrested. Worship happens in secret: no churches, no Sunday school, no songs of praise. For us Filipinos, faith is a daily rhythm. But in places like China, Vietnam, and Laos, holding onto your belief has come at a cost.
And yet, something extraordinary is happening.
Why This Story Matters Now
China is on track to become the world’s largest Christian nation by 2030. According to Dr. Fenggang Yang of Purdue University, the Christian population in China could reach 247 million by then, surpassing the United States, Brazil, and Mexico. Despite government restrictions, underground churches continue to grow, and more young people are quietly turning to faith.
This month, we remember two things: the anniversary of Project Pearl (June 18, 1981), and Father’s Day. My father passed away in May 2012, but I promised myself I’d one day tell his story. Not just for history’s sake, but for my daughters, so they would know the quiet, courageous legacy they come from.
A few years before he passed away from heart disease complications in 2012, I was able to sit down and interview Papa for a journalism class. At the time, I didn’t know it would be one of our last long conversations. But I’m so grateful I asked.
The Night of a Million Bibles
On the night of June 18, 1981, a custom-built barge floated quietly toward a beach in Shantou, China. Hidden onboard were 1 million Chinese Bibles.
Hundreds of believers waited in silence, ready to carry the boxes inland by foot and bike. The operation was called Project Pearl, and it became the largest Bible smuggling mission in history.
My father was the only Filipino in the crew. At just 20 years old, he was risking arrest, prison, or worse.
“When they said we were going to smuggle one million Bibles into China in one night, I thought, ‘They’re crazy—or they really have faith.’”
“It’s crazy kasi the most ever smuggled into China in a year was 37,000 Bibles. And now we’re saying one million in one night? Either they were crazy, or they really had faith.”
He used the word “crazy” multiple times–but not to exaggerate. To him, it was the only way to describe something so impossible, it could only be done by radical belief.
“Kasi to the Chinese government, the Bible is considered counter-revolutionary. They see it as a tool that can change hearts. Kaya nga dangerous.”
But that night, in just two and a half hours, they delivered 1 million.
Time Magazine would later feature it as “one of the most ambitious Bible operations ever recorded.”
The Mission Didn’t End There
After Project Pearl, Papa didn’t stop. He joined an international organization that serves persecuted Christians around the world. For the next 30 years, he continued bringing Bibles and training leaders in countries where faith was not free.
China, Vietnam, Laos—he served them all. Quietly, faithfully, and often at great personal risk.
He told me, “Tatlo sa mga kaibigan kong pastor, nakulong ng hindi bababa sa tatlong taon—wala silang krimen, kundi ang mag-lead lang ng Bible study. May mga bahay na sinunog. May mga estudyanteng binugbog, black and blue. May mga pinapatay para lang sa pananampalataya.”
“Kung tatanungin mo ako kung delikado—oo. Totoo. Delikado.”
“Meron tayong mga bahay na sinunog. Mga estudyante na halos black and blue kakagulpi dahil sa pananampalataya. May mga pinapatay. At ’yung mga lider na ’yun, wala silang ibang ginawa kundi magpuri sa Diyos. Pero ginawang example para takutin ang iba.”
“May mga lugar na para makapasok ka, kailangan mag-iba ka ng identity. Minsan magpanggap kang negosyante, minsan turista. Pero ang totoo, dala mo ang Salita ng Diyos.”
The first time he set foot in Vietnam, he said something inside him clicked. He didn’t have a clear plan, but he had a strong sense that this was where he was meant to be. Looking back, he admitted it wasn’t easy, but he knew, deep down, that this was his calling.
And he didn’t separate his mission from his family. We were part of the journey. He used to say:
“Kung matuto kang ibalanse ang misyon (o career mo) at pamilya, mas lalalim ang ministry (impact at influence) mo. Ang tahanan ang unang iglesia.”
He also said:
“Vietnam felt like home. I didn’t know exactly what I was meant to do at first. But the moment I stepped on that soil, I knew—that’s where God wanted me to be.”
Yes, I Was Once a Bible Smuggler (Kind Of)
There’s a story my mom, Helen, loves to tell.
When I was a baby, we joined one of my dad’s trips to Vietnam. Some Bibles were hidden in my diaper bag.
At one point, my mom was pulled into immigration for questioning. She was terrified. But by some twist of fate, the officer assigned to interrogate her turned out to be a secret Christian.
They whispered about their faith behind closed doors. And my mom was released, shaken but safe. Sometimes, stories like these sound almost too poetic to be real.
She told me later:
“Noong umpisa, iiyak ka every time he goes. Iiyak ka, ‘Lord, ibalik Mo ’yung asawa ko, Lord.’ Pero as time goes, nasasanay ka na rin.”
The Quiet Hero at Home
Despite his global mission, Papa never made it about him.
He didn’t have a platform. He never asked for recognition.
“Success is not based on what people think of you. It is based on what God thinks of you.”
“Hindi mo kailangang maging sikat para maging mabuting ama. Ang mahalaga, totoo ka sa pananampalataya mo. Kasi sa totoo lang, kung totoo ka, may iiwan at iiwan kang bakas sa puso ng anak mo.”
At home, he was just Papa. He taught us how to pray, how to listen, how to obey—even when it’s uncomfortable.
He achieved so much without applause or fame, because all his ministry was top secret. And he was okay with that.
True enough, the impact of his life has outlived him, and it still continues.
Now That I’m a Mom, I Finally Understand
When I became a mother, I started to see my father differently.
I began to understand the weight of legacy, the quiet courage it takes to do the right thing when no one is watching.
He once told me:
“Sa lahat ng pupuntahan mo, anak, tandaan mong ang Diyos ang unang dapat tanungin. Hindi ang mundo.”
Before he ended our interview, Papa left me with this:
“If I’m going to give a message to the youth, I hope that somewhere in your life, God can be the most important person. Not in a religious sense for pastors or priests, but rather, that you develop a consciousness of God in your life. That you acknowledge your life was given by Him. Whatever you do—your work, your marriage, your purpose—when God is there, you are in the best possible place.”
Now as I raise my daughters, I carry that same hope.
Because when we parent with purpose, we’re not just raising children. We’re raising the next torchbearers.
Legacy isn’t just what we build with our hands.
It’s what we pass on through our values, our faith, our love.
And his passion for ministry didn’t just shape his life—it shaped mine. It reminded me that a career isn’t just a job, but a mission. A calling to serve, to reflect something bigger than myself.
And as I guide my daughters through life, I often wonder:
What will my “Project Pearl” be?
What legacy will I pass on to them—one that will not only make them proud, but will inspire them to do brave, beautiful things for the world?
