Editor’s Note: The following is an excerpt from A Woman Named Gospel, by Catherine B. Allen, which will be released on February 17 by Nurturing Faith Books, Good Faith Media’s book publishing arm.


The wet and muddy funeral crowd began to disperse. It was getting dark.

The Widow Ling had to take care of her children immediately. They needed to evacuate the Baptist Compound and get away from the tuberculo sis infection that killed their father. The doorway to the house was damaged in moving out the coffin. The family had no security. Where could the young widow go? The next months were a dark blur, impossible to remember in future years. Undoubtedly her sisters found room for her in their homes in the city.  

Where was she when students rioted on the Baptist Compound just a few months later in December 1931? There was much political turmoil in the country related to the Japanese invasion of Manchuria, and it swept through the students on the Baptist campuses. After her husband’s death, nobody could keep peace among students.  

Where was she starting January 28, 1932, when Japanese troops shot 100  cannon balls into the Baptist Compound, severely damaging the beautiful buildings where she had lived and served God?  

Where was she when Japanese ships bombed the International Concession of Shanghai, where some of her siblings lived and sheltered her?  Where was she when hundreds of refugees camped out in the Old North  Gate Baptist Church, services had to be suspended, and women made bandages in one corner of the gym? 

In March and April 1931, somewhere in Shanghai, the young mother was lying silently on a bed in a dark room. She lay there for many days. She was a widow and an orphan, helpless and homeless. She did not feel that she could live up to her name, “Blessing,” or to her commitment before God. For the first and only time in her life, she did not know who she was or why  God had called her to service. 

Her sisters hovered in the background. Missionary women who had loved her for years waited patiently for her to arise. They all hoped for God to speak to the one they had already chosen to be their leader. 

In the darkness of her heart, the grieving woman remembered the voice of her father. The venerable Pastor Wu many times had explained the secret meaning of the name he had given her. “Your name is Gospel! You will be my  tithe—one out of ten children who will go forth to preach the story of Jesus.”  Her name did not appear to mean Gospel, and she no longer qualified to live the life of “Ling Shi Mu,” wife of the pastor. So who was she? 

Her second given name, the same name given to all her sisters, was  “Ying.” It was a heroic name, a voice, a message. Together with the first character of her name, “Fu,” it meant Blessing or Happiness. She had tried to be a blessing to all around her.  

When she changed her second name from “Ying” to “Yin,” her father’s intent for her became crystal clear. “Fu Yin” clearly meant “Gospel” in the eyes and ears of Chinese Christians. The changed name was a declaration. Some of her sisters who shared the “Ying” name followed her example. They too became “Yin,” showing their total dedication to Christian ministry. 

After about three months, the lady arose from her bed of mourning and announced her changed name. She declared that her new name was “Gospel.” It was both her name and her calling—one she understood and accepted. She was to serve God herself, in her own name, not in the shadow of her husband or father. She kept their names as part of her identity, but she had her own. She would keep with her always the name of prestigious and venerable Pastor Wu. But she chose to spell his name in English as “Oo” or the initial “O,” as they had done back in Ningbo. She always honored her father and her mother. She would also keep her husband’s name—Ling—because it was a highly honored name among Baptists and Baptist school alumni at the time. People were already turning him into a hero, a legend. Ling was the family name of her three children. So she was willing to be “Mrs. Ling.” 

From now on, she would sign her name for English readers as “Mrs. F.Y.O. Ling.” In Chinese characters, the “F.Y.” stood for “Gospel.” No one  had ever heard of a person so bold as to take the name “Gospel.” Americans hesitated to call her Gospel. One of her closest missionary friends gave “Fu Yin” an alternate meaning: Happy Voice. Most Americans simply settled on “Mrs. F. Y. O. Ling.” This acronym served as her English name—one that Americans could comprehend without having to deal with the shocking fact  that her personal name meant “Gospel.” 

A woman named Gospel Wu Ling.