Writing Mission and Narrating Faith: Liang Fa’s Diary and the Formation of Christian Narrative in Chinese Writing

Abstract

This article reexamines Liang Fa’s Riji Yanxing (Record of Words and Deeds, 1830) from the perspective of narrative structure rather than solely as a historical missionary document. Previous scholarship has shown that the diary was produced within the institutional framework of the London Missionary Society and functioned primarily as a record of early Protestant evangelization in China. Building on these studies, this article argues that the diary simultaneously records missionary work and narrates the formation of Christian faith. Through close readings of Liang Fa’s reflections, prayers, and recorded dialogues with potential converts, the study demonstrates how an institutional testimonial text develops a narrative configuration shaped by Christian theology. Within this framework, missionary responsibility, anxiety over divine judgment, and reflections on death and salvation form recurring cycles of crisis, repentance, and renewed commitment. Dialogues with potential converts further dramatize this theological logic by transforming doctrinal arguments into scenes of spiritual confrontation and hesitation. Although Riji Yanxing was not originally composed as a literary work, it reveals the emergence of a new mode of Christian narrative in Chinese writing. The diary thus illustrates how Christian concepts of sin, redemption, and judgment reshaped narrative consciousness in early nineteenth-century China.

1. Introduction

Liang Fa 梁發 (1789–1855), widely recognized as the first Chinese Protestant pastor and one of the earliest and most devoted Chinese converts to Christianity, occupies a significant place in the history of early Protestant missions in China (Wylie 1867, p. 21; McNeur 1934; Bays 2011, pp. 17–24; Bohr 2021, pp. 258–63).1 His manuscript diary, Riji yanxing 日記言行 (Record of Words and Deeds), written between 28 March 1830 and 6 November 1830 (the twenty-first day of the ninth lunar month), survives today in the archives of the London Missionary Society preserved at the School of Oriental and African Studies (SOAS) at the University of London, where it appears appended to missionary reports (Liang 1830).2 The diary begins with a discussion of the Ten Commandments between Liang Fa and a man identified as Chen 陳某, whom Liang attempts to persuade to embrace the Christian faith, and concludes with the account of another interlocutor, Li Xin 李新, who ultimately accepts the Christian commandments and is baptized. Between these two episodes, the narrative reaches its emotional climax in Liang Fa’s desperate prayer during his wife’s difficult childbirth. Through these experiences the diary develops a coherent narrative arc—from Liang’s early efforts to persuade others, through moments of personal crisis and divine intervention, to his eventual emergence as a Christian pastor who, having consolidated his own faith, instructs others in Christian doctrine and ultimately leads Li Xin to embrace the faith and receive baptism.

In recent years, scholarly interest in Liang Fa’s diary has grown steadily, and important progress has been made in both archival reconstruction and textual interpretation. Si Jia, working directly from the manuscript, has examined the development of Liang Fa’s religious ideas and intellectual trajectory (Si 2017, pp. 122–30). Qiu Zhihong, drawing upon archival materials related to George Hunter McNeur (1874–1953), has reconstructed the processes through which the diary was preserved, circulated, and re-mediated within missionary networks (Qiu 2018, pp. 165–72). Zhou Weichi, drawing on the texts referenced in the diary, suggests that Liang’s early pamphlets may have been incorporated into Quanshi liangyan (勸世良言 Good Words to Admonish the Age) (Zhou 2021, p. 170), the renowned work that later profoundly influenced Hong Xiuquan. Ding Zupan, from the perspective of missionary institutions and the formation of indigenous Christian leadership, has emphasized that Riji yanxing should be understood not as a spontaneous personal document but as a text produced within the institutional framework of the London Missionary Society (Ding 2022, pp. 56–84). Taken together, these studies have established an important consensus: Liang Fa’s diary must first and foremost be regarded as an institutional document—one that records and testifies to early Protestant missionary activity in China—rather than as a work of purely literary expression.

The physical manuscript itself vividly captures this tension between personal reflection and institutional reporting. When Robert Morrison (1782–1834)3, the first Protestant missionary to China, translated a portion of the text—attaching it to Liang Fa’s original Chinese text to send back to the headquarters of the London Missionary Society—he explicitly titled the first page of his English version “extracts from Liang fa’s Diary.” However, in his handwritten postscript appended to the end of the translation, Morrison shifted his terminology to emphasize its administrative function: “The above is the substance of about one third of the Journal and may suffice as a specimen. I have not time to translate the whole; but send home the original that anyone who pleases may see the statements in the original” (Morrison 1830). Morrison’s fluid interchange of “diary” and “journal” perfectly encapsulates the hybrid nature of Riji yanxing: it was simultaneously a private site of spiritual self-examination and an official log submitted for institutional review. While a “diary” conventionally evokes an intimate, day-to-day ledger of personal occurrences and private thoughts, the term “journal” within the nineteenth-century missionary enterprise carried distinct administrative weight. It functioned as a formal record of pastoral labor—a trackable account of progress intended to be read, evaluated, and often circulated by the society’s directors in London. This semantic shift from a private diary to a professional journal thus mirrors the trajectory of the manuscript itself, as it was repurposed from an internal tool of spiritual discipline into an external artifact of institutional reporting.

Yet, once this institutional status is acknowledged, a further question arises that has not yet been sufficiently explored. What narrative mechanisms allow such an institutional record to transcend its administrative function and generate a structure of profound spiritual tension? In other words, when Riji yanxing functions simultaneously as a working record of missionary activity and as a formal document edited and submitted by Robert Morrison to the headquarters of the London Missionary Society, how does the text translate raw emotional experiences of crisis, anxiety, and remorse into a disciplined narrative configuration? Are these moments merely incidental reflections of lived experience, or do they instead constitute a deliberate spiritual dramaturgy—a narrative form structured around the theological sequence of sin, struggle, and redemption?

This question acquires additional significance when situated within a broader reflection on the history of Chinese literary culture. In Sin and Literature 罪與文學, Liu Zaifu and Lin Gang famously argue that although traditional Chinese literature contains numerous representations of moral failure and remorse, it lacks a cultural tradition organized around the Christian notion of sin—that is, a narrative orientation toward inner spiritual judgment, original Sin, and the existential anxiety of redemption (Liu and Lin 2011). Their argument is directed primarily toward the ethical and metaphysical frameworks of the Confucian and Buddhist traditions. Yet, once Christian concepts entered the Chinese linguistic and intellectual sphere in the early nineteenth century, did they not also introduce new modes of interior narration?

Liang Fa’s Riji yanxing may be read precisely as an early textual site in which such a transformation becomes visible. The diary was not composed as a literary work in the conventional sense; nevertheless, within its institutional testimonial framework, it repeatedly reveals traces of spiritual struggle and a developing consciousness of sin. These traces emerge in Liang Fa’s reflections on his missionary responsibilities, in his interpretation of suffering and death, and in the theological reasoning that structures his dialogues with others.

Building upon existing archival scholarship, this article therefore moves beyond the question of generic classification—whether the diary should be regarded as literature or merely as documentary evidence. Instead, it approaches Riji yanxing as a form of institutional testimonial narrative and examines how, within the framework of missionary institutions, the text generates a narrative structure centered on sin and redemption. Through close readings of moments of crisis, theological reflections on sin, and scenes of dialogic encounter, the article argues that institutional testimonial writing does not eliminate narrative tension. On the contrary, under the interpretive pressure of Christian theology, it produces a distinctive narrative dynamism. In this sense, Liang Fa’s diary may be understood as one of the earliest textual sites in which a Christian narrative consciousness of sin began to take form in the Chinese language.

2. Institutional Writing and the Formation of Testimonial Narrative

Liang Fa composed Riji yanxing at the request of Robert Morrison, who encouraged him to keep a diary recording his words and actions. As a genre of writing, the diary served not merely as a record of daily events but as a medium for spiritual self-examination. By documenting his conduct, reflecting upon his experiences, and at times expressing repentance or renewed determination, Liang used the diary to verify and reaffirm the sincerity of his faith. Although the diary was produced within the institutional framework of the London Missionary Society, the institution did far more than simply provide an external context for writing. It also shaped the very form through which personal experience could be recorded and interpreted. The narrative mechanisms of the text can therefore be properly understood only when we recognize how institutional expectations transformed individual experience into a form of writing that was at once reportable, verifiable, and testimonial in character.

Furthermore, the testimonial nature of this writing must be understood against the backdrop of the severe political risks Liang faced. In 1811 (the 16th year of the Jiaqing reign 嘉慶十六年), the Qing Ministry of Punishments established the “Regulations for Punishing Europeans for Propagating Christianity” (Xiyangren chuanjiao zhizui zhuantiao 西洋人传教治罪专条), which formally criminalized the practice of the faith as a “vice” (exing 恶行)—a move unprecedented in the history of the prohibition of Christianity in China (Chen 1932, pp. 44–46). These regulations imposed the death penalty as the maximum punishment for both foreign missionaries and Chinese converts, while also stipulating strict penalties for officials who failed to prevent such activities. As Wu Yixiong notes, this legislation created a highly perilous environment where the printing and distribution of religious tracts were treated as capital offenses (Wu 2022, p. 31; Chen 1932, pp. 44–46). In this hostile environment, Liang’s missionary excursions were clandestine activities conducted under the constant threat of execution. For instance, in the intercalary fourth month of 1830, Liang records his acute anxiety regarding a mandatory inspection by patrol officers (xunding 巡丁) at a water gate in Enping 恩平. When the officers searched his trunks—filled with illegal religious literature—it was not merely an administrative encounter but a high-stakes moment of spiritual trial where the fear of legal punishment was superseded by a sense of divine responsibility.

One of the most visible ways in which institutional discipline structures the diary is through the systematic recording of evangelical outcomes. The entries of Riji yanxing are organized chronologically by date and typically include information about the number of tracts distributed, the routes taken during travel, the places visited, and the responses of those encountered. During the provincial examinations in Gaozhou 高州, for instance, Liang repeatedly records statements such as “seventy-six small tracts were distributed that day” (是日分送小書七十六本) or “eighty-four tracts were distributed that day” (是日分送小書八十四本). Such numerical expressions clearly served a reporting function: they rendered missionary activity measurable and thus legible within the administrative logic of the mission. Through quantification, evangelization—an activity otherwise difficult to evaluate—was translated into a form that could be counted, assessed, and communicated within the institutional network of the London Missionary Society.

Yet, these numerical records are not merely bureaucratic bookkeeping. In many cases, the statistics are immediately followed by brief descriptions of how recipients reacted to the missionary tracts being distributed. Some people accepted the texts with a smile and left; others questioned what they perceived as “strange doctrines” (古怪道理); still others expressed partial curiosity, remarking that they “understood somewhat more” (略更明白). These scattered reactions create a narrative layer beyond the numerical record itself. The diary thus juxtaposes quantitative data with fragments of human response, transforming the distribution of texts into what might be called a narrative of missionary reception. Because the transformation of souls cannot easily be quantified, the diary compensates for the limitations of numbers by recording moments of dialogue, hesitation, curiosity, or rejection. It is precisely through these small narrative supplements that the administrative record opens onto a more dynamic narrative space.

Closely related to this logic of reporting is a second narrative pattern that can be described as testimonial self-fashioning. Within the missionary system, an indigenous evangelist was expected not only to preach but also to demonstrate the reality of divine grace through personal experience. As a result, Riji yanxing does not merely recount what Liang Fa did; it repeatedly interprets events as evidence of how God intervened in his missionary work. For instance, when Liang anticipated that local patrol officers might inspect his luggage during a journey, he recorded the need for caution in advance. When the inspection ultimately passed without incident, he interpreted the event retrospectively as an instance of divine protection and offered repeated thanks to God. The narrative pattern here is strikingly consistent: potential danger, unexpected deliverance, and subsequent thanksgiving. This sequence forms the basic narrative structure of testimonial writing. The institutional expectation that missionaries demonstrate God’s providence encouraged the diary to present missionary activity not simply as human effort but as visible evidence of divine guidance.

The same logic appears even in Liang’s most ordinary daily practices. When staying in Gaozhou, he frequently records his routine of morning and evening prayer and repeatedly gives thanks for divine protection. Such entries might at first glance resemble private devotional notes. Yet, within the institutional context of missionary reporting, they function instead as testimony to the continual presence of God in daily life. Through these recurring references to prayer and gratitude, the text reinforces a triangular relationship between God, the missionary self, and the evangelical mission. The missionary’s life thus becomes legible as a narrative field in which divine action is constantly being demonstrated.

At the same time, the institutional structure of missionary life did not only generate narratives of divine protection; it also produced a powerful sense of responsibility that could easily be experienced as spiritual pressure. Liang Fa repeatedly expresses anxiety about whether he has accomplished anything worthy in the eyes of God. In one entry, he laments that he has not yet “done anything that could be presented before the Heavenly Lord” (未辦得神天上帝何樣之事)4 (28 March 1830; third lunar month, fifth day). Behind this remark lies a profound sense of accountability: if death were to come suddenly, how could he answer when questioned by God? (恐怕我一時死了，神天上帝審問我之時，有何言可答) (29 April 1830; fourth lunar month, seventh day). Such reflections reveal that the institutional role of the indigenous evangelist was experienced not merely as a professional duty but as a form of spiritual obligation. The missionary was accountable simultaneously to the mission society and to God, and these two forms of responsibility were deeply intertwined. As a result, missionary work was interpreted not simply as a task to be completed but as a condition directly linked to the fate of the soul.

This sense of responsibility becomes especially evident in Liang’s reflections following the death of his brother-in-law, Yamao (亞茂), recorded in the diary entry of 30 August 1830 (seventh lunar month, thirteenth day). Confronted with the possibility that Yamao’s soul might face eternal punishment, Liang turns the event into a moment of self-examination. If he himself failed to distribute tracts and preach the gospel diligently, he feared that he too might face eternal condemnation. Here, the idea of sin emerges not only from theological doctrine but also from the missionary’s institutional role. To neglect the work of evangelization would not merely be a professional failure; it would constitute a spiritual offense. Institutional discipline thus gradually transforms into an internalized structure of judgment, shaping not only outward conduct but also the very formation of conscience.

Significantly, this institutional discipline extends beyond the public sphere of missionary activity into the intimate domain of family life. The diary repeatedly records Liang Fa instructing his wife about Christian practices, including the observance of the Sabbath and the rejection of traditional rituals such as the Ghost Festival. Questions surrounding childbirth, household worship, and participation in local festivals are all interpreted through the binary framework of obedience and transgression. In this sense, the household becomes an extension of the missionary field. Domestic life is no longer a purely private sphere but a site where Christian discipline must be enacted and defended. Whether Liang’s wife fears social ridicule for refusing to participate in local rituals, or whether family members faithfully observe the Sabbath, these dilemmas become part of the broader narrative of missionary struggle.

Through this process of internalization, the diary develops a continuous mode of self-examination. Everyday domestic experiences are interpreted through the same theological logic that governs missionary activity. As a result, the boundaries between public evangelization and private life gradually dissolve. Both domains are integrated into a single narrative structure defined by the themes of obedience, responsibility, and spiritual vigilance.

Seen from this perspective, the narrative tension of Riji yanxing is not an accidental byproduct of personal reflection but rather the natural outcome of institutional writing itself. Missionary institutions demanded testimony; testimony required the demonstration of divine grace in the midst of trial; and the repeated appearance of trial and deliverance inevitably generated narrative tension. Institutional structure provided the framework, theological reasoning supplied the interpretive logic, and personal experience furnished the narrative material. The convergence of these three elements allowed the diary, despite its outward form as a working log, to develop the rhythmic structure of what might be described as a “spiritual drama” unfolding within the everyday life of a missionary.

3. Crisis Writing and the Emergence of the Narrative Structure of Sin

If one considers only the surface organization of Riji yanxing, the text appears to consist primarily of sequential records of travel and evangelistic activity. Yet, a closer examination of its narrative tone and emotional intensity reveals that the diary is far from a neutral chronicle. Rather than unfolding as a homogeneous sequence of events, the text repeatedly gathers around moments of crisis—episodes in which anxiety, spiritual fear, and fervent prayer converge. These moments typically culminate in a renewed determination or a reaffirmation of divine grace. Through the recurrent rhythm of crisis, supplication, and resolution, the diary gradually generates what may be described as a narrative structure of sin: a narrative logic in which personal experience is continually interpreted through the theological sequence of sin, repentance, and redemption.

The emergence of this narrative structure becomes particularly evident in Liang Fa’s recurring expressions of guilt concerning what he perceives as his failure to fulfill his evangelical duty. On the seventh day of the fourth month, after reading Romans 10:14–15, Liang reflects:

“If I simply sit quietly at home and do not go out to proclaim the Way and exhort people in various places, how could those people ever come to know the meaning of the Gospel? If I do not proclaim the blessed Way, how grave such a sin would be!”

若靜坐不出門宣道勸啟各處之人，而各處的人，焉能得知福音之義？我不宣傳福道，這樣之罪，何等重乎？

(29 April 1830; fourth lunar month, seventh day)

In this passage, the notion of “sin” does not refer to a moral transgression in the conventional sense. Instead, it arises from the failure to carry out a missionary responsibility. The logic underlying Liang’s self-accusation is unmistakably theological: once the Gospel has been received, withholding it from others constitutes a form of disobedience to divine grace. Sin thus shifts from the domain of overt wrongdoing to the domain of unfulfilled responsibility. Immediately after this reflection, Liang records that he “resolved with determination to study the Holy Scriptures in preparation for going out to preach” (立心奮志習學聖書，以待出門而宣教) (29 April 1830; fourth lunar month, seventh day). The emotional movement of the passage is therefore highly structured: awareness of responsibility gives rise to guilt, guilt produces renewed resolve, and resolve leads to action. This sequence—responsibility, guilt, resolution, and mission—appears repeatedly throughout the diary and functions as one of the principal mechanisms driving its narrative progression.

The narrative structure of sin becomes even more pronounced when the diary confronts the reality of death. The death of Liang Fa’s relative Yamao on 30 August 1830 constitutes one of the most emotionally intense passages in the entire text. Upon learning that Yamao had died after a life of gambling and indulgence, Liang writes:

“Now that he has died, he must surely suffer eternal torment in hell… must he not certainly face everlasting calamity there?”

如今死了，定在地獄受永苦……必定在地獄受永遠災禍乎？

(30 August 1830; seventh lunar month, thirteenth day)

What is striking here is the absence of hesitation. Death is not interpreted as the end of life but as the beginning of judgment. Yet, the narrative significance of the episode lies not only in Liang’s evaluation of Yamao’s fate. The death immediately provokes a profound moment of self-examination. Liang turns from the fate of the deceased to his own spiritual condition, writing that if he himself were not diligent in distributing Christian texts and exhorting others, he too might face eternal punishment. In this way, the death of another becomes a mirror in which the missionary reexamines his own accountability before God.

The narrative rhythm of this passage becomes noticeably intensified. The sentences grow shorter and more urgent, and the emotional tone shifts from detached observation to acute spiritual anxiety. The episode culminates in a moment of self-awakening expressed through prayer:

“Then I awakened my own heart and immediately knelt down in supplication: may the Heavenly Lord show mercy upon me, forgive my sins, and grant the hidden assistance of the Holy Spirit so that I may cultivate virtue with caution.”

於是醒覺自心，即跪下乞求：神天垂憐，赦我之罪，賜聖風暗助我謹慎修德。

(30 August 1830; seventh lunar month, thirteenth day)

Here, the structure of the episode becomes clear: crisis leads to spiritual fear, fear leads to prayer, and prayer culminates in renewed commitment. The sequence constitutes a complete arc of what might be called spiritual dramaturgy. The event itself is not fictional, yet its narrative configuration resembles the dramatic structure of a spiritual trial and resolution.

A similar dynamic emerges in Liang Fa’s reflections on family life during the difficult period surrounding his wife’s childbirth. On the fourth day of the eighth lunar month in 1830, Liang’s wife endured a prolonged and dangerous labor. Liang repeatedly records his prayers to God during this ordeal, interpreting the uncertainty of childbirth not merely as a domestic crisis but as a spiritual trial. After the child is finally born, his wife remains severely weakened and for several days can take only medicine without food. Liang’s diary describes his continued anxiety and his repeated prayers for divine protection, as he fears that her life may still be in danger. Only about a week later does she gradually recover the strength to eat again, a recovery that Liang clearly interprets as evidence of divine mercy.

Ten days after the birth, Liang records a moment of intense personal reflection. Confronted with the suffering and exhaustion that accompany the event, he writes:

“After morning prayers are finished, I eat and then sit quietly reading. Reflecting inwardly, I think: to live in this world is full of hardship and sorrow. I think of the great suffering my wife has endured in childbirth. All our money has been exhausted, our clothes pawned, and now I must care for her day and night. Truly, in this world there are no days of ease; it would be better to leave this evil world sooner. Therefore, I resolve that I would rather die for the sake of the Gospel than continue living in this world of suffering, passing my days in even greater hardship.”

早拜神畢，食飯後，余靜坐看書，暗自思想，居在世間之上，這樣艱難憂愁。又想妻子因生產之事，受了這般大苦難痛楚。錢財使盡，衣服當完，如今又要日夜服事妻子。真是在此世界之上，沒有安樂之日，不如早離這惡世界更好。因此立心情願為福音之道而死，不願居在陽世受苦，更難過日。

(30 September 1830; eighth lunar month, fourteenth day)

In this passage, the experience of domestic crisis becomes the occasion for a decisive reaffirmation of Liang’s missionary vocation. The emotional movement of the entry is striking: the narrative begins with reflection upon physical hardship and financial strain, yet culminates in a voluntary commitment to sacrifice his life for the propagation of the Gospel. In other words, the crisis of childbirth does not lead Liang toward withdrawal from missionary labor; rather, it intensifies his sense of spiritual calling. Suffering is thus reinterpreted within a theological framework in which earthly hardship becomes confirmation of divine purpose.

Modern scholarship notes that such moments of personal crisis often play a decisive role in shaping the self-understanding of early Chinese Protestant converts. As P. Richard Bohr observes, the dramatization of Liang Fa’s commitment to Christianity begins with his baptism in 1816, after which Liang writes that, through the modifying influence of the Holy Spirit, his former sinful self is gradually fading away. From that moment onward, Liang resolves to devote the rest of his life to propagating Christianity among his fellow Chinese (Bohr 1985, p. 40).

Seen in this light, the diary entry written ten days after his wife’s difficult childbirth reveals a similar dynamic. The experience of hardship does not weaken Liang Fa’s faith but instead deepens it. Physical suffering, financial strain, and domestic anxiety become occasions for renewed spiritual determination. Rather than retreating from his evangelical mission, Liang interprets these trials as confirmation of his calling. In this sense, suffering functions not as an obstacle to faith but as a catalyst that intensifies religious commitment and reinforces the resolve to dedicate one’s life to the work of the Gospel.

Such an interpretation reflects a central feature of Christian theology: earthly suffering and eternal destiny are closely intertwined. Physical events are therefore not understood merely as biological occurrences but as symbolic sites in which the condition of the soul becomes visible. In Liang’s narrative world, childbirth, illness, and material hardship are never simply domestic experiences; rather, they become moments in which the drama of sin and redemption unfolds within the everyday life of the believer.

What is perhaps most remarkable, however, is the extent to which this crisis-oriented narrative pattern becomes normalized within the diary. Episodes of anxiety and spiritual self-examination do not occur only in extraordinary circumstances. Even in the midst of routine activities—such as distributing tracts, asking for directions, or arranging travel—Liang repeatedly returns to reflections on the soul, eternal punishment, and heavenly salvation. Crisis thus ceases to be an exceptional occurrence and becomes instead a permanent interpretive horizon. Spiritual danger is perceived not only in dramatic events but also in the quiet recesses of the missionary’s conscience.

From this perspective, the narrative vitality of Riji yanxing does not derive from dramatic plot developments in the conventional literary sense. Rather, it arises from the continuous oscillation of the missionary’s spiritual state. The diary’s narrative energy is generated by the repeated tension between anxiety and reassurance, guilt and repentance, and danger and redemption. Sin functions as the internal motor of the narrative, sustaining a persistent sense of spiritual urgency. Through this mechanism, the institutional testimonial narrative gradually evolves into a form of spiritual drama unfolding within the ordinary rhythms of missionary life.

However, while Liang Fa’s narrative of sin shares the fundamental theological vocabulary of Western Protestantism, it exhibits essential differences in its orientation and expression, reflecting a localized negotiation with Chinese ethical traditions. Unlike the Western introspective tradition—exemplified by Augustinian or Puritan confessions that often emphasize metaphysical angst and the soul’s existential loneliness before God—Liang’s consciousness of sin is deeply embedded in the relational ethics of Chinese society. His expressions of guilt frequently coalesce around domestic crises and familial obligations, such as the suffering of his wife during childbirth or the spiritual fate of his deceased relatives. Furthermore, Liang frequently articulates the logic of sin through the lens of traditional moral retribution (bao 報). For instance, when debating the efficacy of idol worship during a drought, he uses the analogy of a “rich man” and his “servant” to explain the offense of neglecting the Creator, effectively translating the transcendent concept of sin into the familiar language of social hierarchy and reciprocal duty. In this sense, Liang’s “spiritual drama” is less a journey of abstract mystical contemplation and more an ethical struggle where institutional responsibility, familial piety, and the theological imperative of salvation are inextricably intertwined. Sin, for Liang, is not merely a fallen state of being, but a failure to fulfill one’s duty within a cosmos governed by the dual pressures of Christian judgment and Chinese moral order.

4. Dialogic Structure and the Dramatic Expansion of the Logic of Sin

Whereas the previous section examined the internal crises through which Liang Fa’s consciousness of sin assumed narrative form, the present section turns to the manner in which this theological logic is externalized through dialogue. In Riji yanxing, extended records of question-and-answer exchanges occupy a substantial portion of the diary. Many of these exchanges resemble the catechetical style of religious instruction common in early missionary practice, in which doctrinal questions were posed and answered through structured dialogue.

These conversations, however, are far more than incidental records of missionary encounters. They constitute the primary arena in which the narrative logic of sin is articulated, contested, and dramatized within social interaction. Through repeated debates with interlocutors, theological reasoning concerning sin, salvation, and judgment is transformed into a dynamic narrative process—one marked by confrontation, persuasion, hesitation, and often unresolved decisions.

The dialogic structure of missionary exchange becomes particularly visible in Liang Fa’s conversations with a man surnamed Chen on the fifth day of the third month. Chen raises objections to the Ten Commandments, arguing that certain injunctions—especially the prohibition against idol worship and the observance of the Sabbath—are practically impossible to follow. Liang Fa’s response does not simply refute the objection on doctrinal grounds. Instead, he immediately redirects the issue toward the fate of the soul, declaring:

“If others laugh at you for refusing to worship the various gods and Buddhas, those people cannot save your soul. Why, then, should you fear their ridicule?”

別人笑你不拜各樣神佛者，各人亦不能救你之靈魂，何必怕懼別人恥笑。

(28 March 1830; Sunday; third lunar month, fifth day)

The logic of this argument is unmistakable. Social pressure—the fear of public ridicule—is displaced by the far greater danger of eternal suffering. Liang repeatedly translates worldly concerns into questions of ultimate destiny. When Chen worries that observing the Sabbath would prevent him from working and thus threaten his livelihood, Liang replies with a stark warning: “I fear that when the breath in your throat ceases, an even greater, eternal suffering awaits.” 恐怕三寸氣斷了之時，更有一個永遠之苦難。(28 March 1830; Sunday; third lunar month, fifth day). The phrase “eternal suffering” functions here as a decisive rhetorical pivot. The structure of the dialogue therefore follows a recognizable pattern: a worldly concern is raised, the discussion is redirected toward the soul, the possibility of eternal punishment is introduced, and the listener is urged toward repentance. Because this pattern appears repeatedly in the diary, the dialogues acquire a distinct rhythm resembling the unfolding scenes of a spiritual dramaturgy.

Within these debates, the logic of sin itself becomes increasingly stratified. In a subsequent conversation about the pursuit of wealth, Liang Fa argues that refusal to believe after hearing the Gospel constitutes a more serious form of wrongdoing. As he states:

“If you do not recognize your own sin and refuse to revere and believe, you are disobeying the gracious command of the Heavenly Lord; your sin becomes even graver.”

你不知自罪，不肯敬信之者，乃系違逆神天上帝之恩命，你之罪過，更加一重。

(31 March 1830; third lunar month, eighth day)

Here, sin is no longer presented as a static moral condition but as a dynamic hierarchy. Ignorance constitutes one level of sin, while conscious rejection after hearing the truth becomes a deeper offense. The theological implication is striking: dialogue itself becomes a moment of judgment. Each exchange places the interlocutor at a moral crossroads. Hesitation intensifies guilt; rejection deepens it further. The conversation thus ceases to function as a neutral exchange of ideas and instead becomes a site where the eternal destiny of the soul is implicitly at stake.

This hierarchical logic of sin becomes even more explicit in the continuation of the same exchange. When the interlocutor, Chen, attempts to defend himself by claiming that he has committed no serious wrongdoing—only minor faults shared by all people—Liang Fa responds by introducing the doctrine of original sin. Even if one were to assume the absence of personal transgression, Liang insists, one would still bear what he calls the “inherited sin of the original body” (原身連累之罪). By invoking this concept, Liang shifts the debate from the level of observable moral behavior to the deeper theological premise that human beings are already implicated in sin prior to any particular act. Sin, in this formulation, is not merely the result of individual wrongdoing but a condition embedded in human existence itself. The argumentative force of this move is significant: Chen’s attempt to relativize moral faults as minor and universal is countered by a theological claim that universality itself is precisely the evidence of sin’s pervasive power. Confronted with this reasoning, the diary records that Chen “ceased to ask further questions and left,” suggesting that the conversation had reached a point where the theological logic of sin had effectively foreclosed further debate.

A different dialogic pattern emerges in Liang’s interactions with another interlocutor, a man surnamed Lin. Whereas Chen resists Liang’s arguments, Lin appears gradually drawn toward them through a sequence of questions. He asks repeatedly: What is the soul? Who is the Savior? How does the Holy Spirit move within human hearts? Each question pushes the conversation forward, creating a progressive movement of spiritual inquiry. Yet, Liang responds by emphasizing a fundamental theological principle: faith must precede full understanding.

“Those who believe in the True Scripture,” he explains, “all believe first and only later come to understand. Now, if you insist on understanding before believing, I truly fear that you are not a person who sincerely follows the Way.”

凡信奉真經之人，都系先信後明。如今你要先明後信，誠恐不是真心奉道之人。

(20 July 1830; sixth lunar month, first day)

This exchange introduces a new tension into the narrative: the tension between doubt and faith. Lin expresses curiosity and even a willingness to learn, yet he hesitates to take the decisive step of baptism. At one point, he confesses that he had previously considered entering a Buddhist monastery. Liang responds by launching a severe critique of Buddhism, portraying it as a path leading ultimately toward damnation. The debate thus evolves from theological explanation into a dramatic contest between religious traditions. Lin’s wavering position between Buddhism and Christianity transforms the dialogue into a scene of spiritual struggle, in which competing visions of salvation vie for authority over the fate of the soul.

Another set of conversations reveals how the narrative of sin expands into a broader confrontation between cosmological worldviews. On one occasion, Liang debates with several individuals who repeat the popular Chinese saying that “when a person dies, it is like a lamp going out” (人死如灯灭). Liang challenges this assumption directly, insisting that “although the body is buried in the earth, the human soul is an immortal and indestructible spiritual entity.” (人死了之後，肉身雖然埋在地穴之內，惟有人之靈魂，乃系不死不滅之靈物。) (8 August 1830; Sunday; sixth lunar month, twentieth day). His interlocutors respond by citing traditional examples of loyal officials and filial sons whose spirits are believed to endure after death. In this exchange, two fundamentally different understandings of the afterlife collide. The traditional view emphasizes moral reputation and the lingering presence of exemplary spirits, whereas Liang introduces the Christian framework of universal judgment and eternal reward or punishment.

Significantly, the conversation does not end with open conflict. Liang records that his interlocutors simply smile and promise to “return another time to seek further discussion” (下次再來領教). Such scenes appear repeatedly throughout the diary. The narrative tension lies not in dramatic confrontation but in unresolved suspension. The disagreement remains implicit rather than explosive, leaving the question of belief open. This suspended resolution is crucial for the narrative structure of the diary. The dialogue does not conclude with conversion or rejection but with a lingering possibility that keeps the spiritual drama unresolved.

It is precisely within these dialogic encounters that Riji yanxing acquires a distinctive sense of narrative vitality. The diary does not construct fictional plots, yet it repeatedly stages encounters structured by fundamental tensions: the pursuit of worldly benefit versus the fate of the eternal soul; the authority of social custom versus the commandments of God; traditional religious practices versus the exclusive claims of Christian monotheism; and hesitation and doubt versus the urgent call to repentance. Each conversation thus becomes a threshold moment in which the interlocutor stands between alternative spiritual paths. Because the outcome of these encounters remains uncertain—conversion may occur, but it may also be indefinitely postponed—the narrative maintains a continuous sense of suspense.

When the internal reflections examined in the previous section are read together with these external dialogues, a coherent theological pattern emerges. The diary articulates a complete structure of sin: all human beings are burdened by sin, including inherited guilt; sin leads inevitably to eternal punishment; redemption becomes possible through the sacrificial work of the Savior; refusal to believe after hearing the Gospel intensifies guilt; and even the missionary himself risks condemnation if he fails to fulfill his evangelical responsibility. This structure operates simultaneously in two directions. It is directed outward toward the conversion of others, yet it also turns inward upon the missionary’s own conscience. Liang Fa therefore appears both as the herald of judgment and as a subject who remains under judgment himself.

Through this dual orientation, the institutional testimonial narrative of Riji yanxing evolves into a complex form of spiritual drama. The missionary proclaims the logic of sin to others, yet that same logic continually returns to interrogate his own faithfulness. The diary thus sustains a persistent tension between proclamation and self-examination. In this sense, the dialogic encounters recorded in Riji yanxing do not merely illustrate missionary preaching; they reveal how the narrative structure of sin becomes socially enacted, rhetorically intensified, and spiritually internalized within the everyday interactions of early Protestant evangelism in China.

5. Conclusions

Building upon existing archival scholarship, this study has attempted to reinterpret Liang Fa’s Riji yanxing from the perspective of narrative structure rather than solely from that of textual provenance. Three interrelated conclusions may be drawn from the foregoing analysis.

First, Riji yanxing must be understood fundamentally as an institutionally generated text within the broader Protestant missionary enterprise led by figures such as Robert Morrison and his collaborator William Milne (1785–1822). The diary functioned simultaneously as a record of evangelical labor and as testimonial evidence for the missionary network. Its numerical records of tract distribution, detailed travel itineraries, and extended reports of conversations with potential converts all served the practical needs of the mission system. In this sense, the form of the text—its chronological organization, its emphasis on quantifiable results, and its documentation of missionary encounters—was shaped directly by the institutional demands of reporting and verification. However, this was not a solitary endeavor; Liang was a vital participant in a collective movement. While engaged in the distribution of religious tracts—the very labor documented in his diary-based reports—Liang circulated works such as Milne’s Liangyou xianglun (兩友相論 Dialogue Between Two Friends, 1819)—the first Protestant novel in Chinese (Bays 1985, pp. 19–34). The dialogic and theological tensions found in Liang’s writing were thus part of a burgeoning missionary literary trend that sought to reconcile Christian doctrine with Chinese narrative forms.

Second, within this institutional framework, the diary gradually develops a stable narrative structure of sin. Whether in Liang Fa’s internal reflections or in his recorded dialogues with others, the narrative repeatedly revolves around the theological sequence of sin, eternal punishment, redemption, and responsibility. Sin is presented simultaneously as the condition of humanity and as a burden borne by the missionary. This dual orientation—directed outward toward others yet inward toward the self—creates a state of spiritual self-examination. Through this dynamic, the institutional testimonial narrative evolves into a form of spiritual dramaturgy, structured by the oscillation between anxiety and renewed commitment. As this study has shown, Liang’s consciousness of sin was not merely a replica of Western models but was filtered through the lived realities of 19th-century Chinese life, transforming the abstract theology of the “Great Qing Legal Code” era into a personal drama of faith and survival.

Third, the narrative structure revealed in Riji yanxing carries broader implications for intellectual and literary history, even if the diary itself remained an internal institutional document. Liu Zaifu and Lin Gang have argued that although traditional Chinese literature contains many representations of moral error and regret, it lacks a cultural tradition centered upon the Christian conception of sin—namely, a narrative orientation toward inner spiritual judgment, original sin, and the anxiety of redemption. Liang Fa’s diary offers an early textual instance in which such a structure becomes visible within Chinese-language writing. While the diary was not a “literary” influencer in the conventional sense, it reflects the emergence of a “confessional mode” in Chinese writing. Liang’s spiritual introspection was likely influenced by the catechetical style of Morrison’s tracts and the dialogic structure of Milne’s narratives. Although this specific diary stayed within the archives of the London Missionary Society, the narrative paradigm it established—the intense negotiation between divine law and human frailty—found its most explosive expression in Liang’s other works, most notably Quanshi liangyan. It was through these related writings that Liang’s localized theological vision directly shaped the ideology of Hong Xiuquan and the Taiping movement, thereby triggering a profound, if unintended, transformation of the Chinese sociopolitical landscape.

For this reason, the significance of Riji yanxing extends beyond its value as a historical document. It records a crucial moment of “theological localization” within Chinese religious culture. Institutional testimonial writing did not suppress individual experience; rather, under the interpretive pressure of Christian theology, it generated a distinctive narrative form in which missionary labor and spiritual struggle became inseparable. The text thus operates simultaneously as an administrative record and as a spiritual archive. Seen in this light, Riji yanxing may be read as one of the earliest textual sites in which a Christian consciousness of sin took narrative shape in the Chinese language. It demonstrates that when new religious concepts entered China, they did not merely alter patterns of belief and ritual practice. They reshaped modes of narration and forms of subjectivity. Institution and spirituality were not opposing forces but mutually constitutive ones, together giving rise to a new kind of narrative writing in which institutional discipline, theological reasoning, and the unique cultural experience of an early Chinese convert converged.