In February 2014, I commissioned Zhang Rong, Within Reach Global’s first indigenous missionary, to serve unreached peoples near our new outreach center, The Edge. The narco town, situated in one of Myanmar’s conflict zones along the China border, was notorious for its methamphetamine production, prostitution, and human trafficking.
It was a challenging mission field.
The United Wa State Army-controlled area was filled with meth-labs, makeshift gambling dens, and brothels, and utilized child soldiers in its decades-long war against the Burmese government.
I had personally experienced the region’s oppression and had reservations about sending Zhang Rong and his family into the belly of the beast.
In 2001, I served as the interpreter for TIME Asia journalist Andrew Marshall. We trekked “extra-legally” across the border into Myanmar to gather research for his forthcoming book, The Trouser People: Burma in the Shadows of the Empire. We walked for days in the humid heat until we accidentally stumbled into a large USWA barracks filled with soldiers.
The daredevil expedition introduced us to the ethnic Wa people, a tribe in Myanmar that lived precariously within the drug-riddled conflict zone that is the Golden Triangle. We met severely impoverished people forced to tend the poppy plantations that stretched as far as the eye could see. The poor Wa survived on meager wages while their fields padded the pockets of narco lords who controlled the region’s wealth. We watched as guerrillas carrying assault rifles with fixed bayonets barked orders at handcuffed chain gangs. On the final day of our journey, a caravan of pick-ups crammed with alert soldiers toting Kalashnikovs and grenade launchers. (Marshall recounts our journey in the last chapters of his book.)[1]
The conflict area wasn’t an easy field, but Zhang Rong was up for the task. He’d always been the type who was willing to enter the trenches for the sake of the gospel-deprived. He wasn’t just a sideline observer to the world’s pain and suffering. Gospel privilege compelled the man to action. An up-close-and-personal evangelistic stance marked his fight against injustice.
Having served at Within Reach Global since 2004, he was instrumental in pioneering two of Within Reach Global’s outreach centers: Pilot, on the China and Vietnam border, and 26 Tribes, located in a Chinese city near Laos. But Zhang Rong was no stranger to persecution; the wounded warrior’s scars told the story of his sacrificial life.
At Pilot—our first outreach center—a drunk Yao man punched Zhang Rong in the face while he preached the gospel. During his time at 26 Tribes outreach center, plainclothes police trailed his movements as he made disciples and planted churches among unreached ethnic tribes like the Kongge, Kemu, Bulang, and Dai. On an evangelistic outreach to China’s Myanmar border, Chinese authorities arrested him for sharing the good news in remote villages. During his three-day interrogation, the brutal police beat him repeatedly; his tormentors pressed lit cigarette butts onto his cheeks for sharing his faith in Jesus.
No matter the circumstances, suffering for his Savior’s sake served to fan his evangelistic passion. The opposition solidified Zhang Rong’s battle for true justice—a biblically-informed justice that addressed the physical and spiritual needs of those he sought to reach. (I chronicle Zhang Rong’s missionary zeal in my first book, The Space Between Memories.)[2]
And so, in February 2014, driven by God’s love for the poor and spiritually destitute, Zhang Rong and his family moved to the Wa narco town near the China border.
They immediately saw the need to evangelize and disciple broken families and abandoned kids. They started a vacation Bible school and invited their neighbors to join. It was a big hit. Within six months, twelve children and some of their family members came to faith in Christ.
For nearly two years, Zhang Rong happily reported the exciting ministry breakthroughs, but his initial joy was about to be tested.
One lady that the missionary family ministered to was pregnant with a child she didn’t want. She was addicted to meth, living in dire circumstances, and in no position to raise a child. She asked Zhang Rong and his wife if they would adopt her baby. They agreed.
On December 17, 2015, the woman handed the week-old girl to Zhang Rong and his wife. The missionary couple took the baby into their home and cared for the child as their own.
They named her Yuyu.
Not long after the mother gave up her child, she was jailed for drug abuse. The child’s father went missing, too. In a small city notorious for its methamphetamine production and distribution, the missionaries suspected that he had received a similar meth-related sentencing.
Over the next three months, Zhang Rong’s family fell in love with Yuyu. Their sweet, wide-eyed adopted daughter brought them new joy. But the family was unprepared for what happened next.
In March 2016, after her release from jail, Yuyu’s birth mother found the missionary family and demanded they return her child. They were surprised by her change of heart and uncertain of her intentions. How could they give up the daughter they had grown to love? They were heartbroken, but without legal custody, they had no choice but to comply. With a heavy heart and hot tears streaming down her cheeks, Zhang Rong’s wife handed Yuyu to the woman.
The next day, a horrible realization came. The baby’s birth mom sold her child on the black market for a mere five hundred dollars.
The missionary couple was devastated at the loss of the little girl they loved. They contacted the police but to no avail. Their inquiries about the child’s whereabouts fell on deaf ears. No one was willing to help locate Yuyu.
A deep sadness filled the missionaries’ hearts as they wondered what would become of the baby. Would she grow up in a brothel? Would she be forced to become a child soldier? The grim possibilities overwhelmed their senses.
Zhang Rong prayed for God to intervene miraculously.
Yuyu’s birth mother used the cash to sustain her drug addiction and disappeared. But the damage was done. Yuyu slipped into the evil web of a human trafficking network.
Zhang Rong contacted me from Myanmar. “David,” he cried into the receiver, “they took her! She’s gone.”
No words of encouragement came. Filled with sadness, I wept with my brother.
The sorrow persisted for months. The challenging mission field would have swallowed most people alive, but Zhang Rong faithfully continued the children’s program, ministering to newly-saved families. However, thoughts of Yuyu lingered at the forefront of his mind.
Zhang Rong’s wife—herself a former child soldier in Myanmar’s war-ridden, meth-laden setting—knew the ins and outs of the underworld. For three months, she exhausted every avenue in search of Yuyu.
Finally, in June 2016, she found a lead.
A friend told Zhang Rong’s wife about a woman who purchased children to sell on the black market. She made her living flipping kids for profit, holding them for ransom not far from Zhang Rong’s home. Yuyu had been close by all along!
Sources confirmed that the little girl would soon be sold on the black market when she was old enough to bring a higher profit for the trafficker. Zhang Rong and his wife knew they needed to act fast.
Within Reach Global gathered the funds to rescue Yuyu from the black market for her list price of $8,000—a 1,600 percent increase from the initial purchase.
When all hope seemed lost, God was working behind the scenes. But why would he allow Zhang Rong’s family to experience such hardship and pain? From an outside perspective, the injustice seemed excessive. But in God’s overarching redemptive plan, there are no wasted moments. He divinely arranged unexpected joy to overcome despair; he was about to pour out the glory of salvation in a land of ashes.
On June 28, 2016, after a roller-coaster-year of emotions, the indigenous missionary couple brought Yuyu back home.
Zhang Rong, his wife, and their two biological children cradled the little Wa girl in their arms. Tears of joy ran down their cheeks as they hugged each other tightly. Divine justice flowed into their home, and rejoicing filled their hearts. Yuyu smiled and cooed with delight.
Through a miraculous series of events, the local government issued the girl’s legal adoption papers—an unexpected blessing in a town filled with corruption. They breathed a sigh of relief. Yuyu was safe at last in her forever family.
Zhang Rong’s neighbors witnessed the story unfold in their midst. They observed the family’s deep concern for human suffering and injustice. They’d never seen such selfless love in action. The year-long ordeal created new opportunities to share the good news in an area devoid of the gospel.
One day, not long after Yuyu’s adoption, Zhang Rong’s neighbor summed up the Chinese missionary’s compassionate stance against human suffering.
“From now on, I’m calling you ‘Yellow Jesus!’” he exclaimed.
“What do you mean?” Zhang Rong asked.
“When you moved into our city, we didn’t know why you were here,” the man explained. “You didn’t speak our language. You didn’t look like us. But you entered our community and showed us what true justice, compassion, and humility look like. You are a living expression of Jesus Christ.”
Zhang Rong’s “yellow specter”—a skin tone color metaphor representing Myanmar’s Chinese neighbors—contrasted the Wa tribe’s darker complexion. The man saw the Chinese missionary as a living example of God’s Son in their midst.
Zhang Rong may have been God’s instrument to impact the unreached area, but he turned all eyes to Jesus. His incarnational ministry (which I explore in the next chapter) mirrored his Savior’s arrival onto the earthly scene two thousand years ago.
The term “Yellow Jesus” stuck. It represented hope amidst injustice, God’s love in a spiritually dark part of the world. “Yellow Jesus” meant “Immanuel” or “God is with us.” It described Jesus’ “move into the neighborhood” through the life of an anonymous Chinese missionary.
Zhang Rong’s Wa neighbors still call him by that name to this day.

[1] Andrew Marshall, The Trouser People: Burma in the Shadows of the Empire (River Books, 2002).
[2] David Joannes, The Space Between Memories: Recollections from a 21st Century Missionary (Within Reach Global, 2016).