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Warm rain ran down the back of Bo Le's neck as he walked down Shanghai's shadowy back alleys. It was almost midnight. Sixteen-year-old Bo Le checked behind him for the 10th time to be sure he wasn't being followed.

Fear choked at his throat. He knew the chance he was taking in going to the house church meeting. But that's China. Since only government-monitored churches are legal, any Christian who chooses to join an underground house church risks imprisonment, beatings or worse.

What if tonight's meeting is raided? he thought. What if I'm the one beaten this time?

He turned the corner and quickly entered the abandoned warehouse—his church.

"Bo Le, come in," the pastor's wife greeted him.

Bo Le blinked under the electric lights. The old warehouse was empty except for about 10 scattered wooden benches, a wooden desk in the front, and people wandering around.

Shao En, the pastor's daughter, saw Bo Le enter. "Bo Le, you've made it safely," she said as she walked over to him. "My father isn't here yet. He thinks he's under suspicion by the PSB (Public Safety Bureau) because of the American preachers who are with him. He said they'll all come later this evening."

Bo Le looked warmly into Shao En's eyes. She was 15, and Bo Le greatly admired her zeal to preach the gospel. He'd often seen her quietly witnessing to children at the park or discreetly stuffing tracts into the spokes of the bicycles parked behind the school. And he'd rarely seen her when she wasn't smiling. She was as sincere as she was cute.

"Are you going to preach instead, Shao En?" teased Bo Le.

She laughed. "One day I'll preach, Bo Le! But tonight we will pray. Father asked that we begin the meeting by praying for our guest speakers and their safety. Would you be willing to stand guard at the door tonight?"

"Sure," answered Bo Le, stuffing his hands into his pockets. The last thing he wanted to do was stand guard at the door, but he couldn't tell Shao En.

Instead, he said, "It's been awhile since we were under suspicion. What's the signal?"

"You stand by the door," answered Shao En. "Wait for a call on this cell phone."

"A cell phone?" Bo Le asked. "Where'd you get that?"

"The American pastors bought them for us," she answered. "Brother Wong is patrolling the building outside. If he sees anything suspicious, he'll dial a number on his cell phone and you'll see the red lights flash. When you see the lights, that means we're being watched and we're in danger. Flicker the main lights in here so the rest of us know we're being watched. Then turn the lights off until the danger passes. Got it?"

"Got it," replied Bo Le. He tried to smile reassuringly at Shao En, but inwardly his stomach knotted.

If Shao En's father, affectionately nicknamed Pastor Moses, was going through all of these precautions, then there must be a serious chance of trouble.

The meeting started. One elderly woman stood at the small wooden desk at the front and organized the crowd into several prayer groups. Within minutes requests shot up like arrows, flying high above the tall warehouse ceiling, and the vacant old building became a house of prayer.

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