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I attended a mission school run by the Kwangsung Church Foundation for high school. Over those three years, I spent more days attending revival meetings than studying. Dozing off during those sessions meant getting whacked on the back of the head countless times with a long stick. My grades in Bible class were always zero, and I was forced to join the choir, croaking out hymns with a voice that wouldn’t cooperate. I was ignorant of religion, not knowing who God or Christ was.
My first husband’s family consisted of 23 devout Christians, including my in-laws—everyone except me, the lone atheist. I found people carrying Bibles under their arms utterly repulsive and refused to associate with those seeking “God the Father.” Never having read the Bible properly, I lived with the belief that Christians should be exemplars to all—good and kind.
After my first marriage failed, about 15 years later, my second husband encouraged me to try attending some megachurches and a small rural church. All they seemed to want was my offering money. I had questions—about tongues, how anyone could reach a heaven supposedly open to all, why Scripture says it’s hard to enter heaven when pastors claim mere belief in God suffices—but six months of churchgoing yielded no answers, only growing curiosity about the Bible. My time shuttling to and fro became a simple prayer, though I longed to live according to God’s will, helping the needy, and meeting a true shepherd—a small hope I wished fulfilled.
While building a home in the countryside—a lifelong dream—exhaustion led to frequent, escalating fights with my husband, becoming unbearable. One day, to avoid conflict, I took refuge at the teacher’s place—someone I didn’t know very well but had come to treat like my own older brother—and stayed there for a few months. Staying with him for months, I encountered astonishing experiences.
His resounding tongues carried an undeniable dignity. Over time, I couldn’t help but believe he was God’s sent shepherd—not repeating the same satanic phrases as worldly pastors, but living love through sharing and giving rather than seeking to be served. For me, wary of Christians, he never mentioned God, instead offering a warm, consistent smile and unwavering love in action. What amazed me more was that this steadfast love wasn’t just for me—his fellow brothers and sisters, unlike worldly people, prioritized others’ care over their own.
Even sharing an apple, they’d offer the best to others, content with the core, finding joy in giving. Their depth and breadth of consideration—unseen anywhere—made them hands for the handless, feet for the footless. This brother-like figure, through their actions, words, and hearts, proved a true shepherd, bearing the fruit of genuine love—clear evidence of God’s sent one.
I couldn’t deny he was God’s true shepherd—not craving worldly wealth, but practicing Christ’s love, nurturing sheep toward salvation. He answered all my biblical questions, unraveling creation’s secrets and worldly principles without hesitation, never coercing belief in God—for this path can’t be forced. His love testified to his authenticity, a living example of selfless giving.
Skeptical and distrustful by nature, drowning in sorrow, deaf to all, and wishing only for death, I heard his beautiful praise. Ignorant of what praise was, it became my comfort and strength, warming and centering me—a radiant poem guiding me with instruction, rebuke, and lessons. Though I can’t recall its content after a decade, the melting tears and heart-filling beauty remain vivid, a beacon directing my life’s purpose. Only God’s true shepherd could offer such praise.
Learning God’s vast patience, mercy, and boundless love through my body, I’ve experienced what no church or place could teach—the filthy, petty, impatient, reckless, judgmental, hateful habits within me; my fleshly desires and greed laid bare. Through rebuke, my shame and weakness transform into grace, a process of prayer and discipline toward receiving God’s powerful gift, enabling me to lay down my life for my neighbors in cross-like love. In the world, shame is a target of scorn, but in God’s truth, it births humility—a grace I experience, seeking the power to mortify my flesh, gaining love and compassion. To attain this cross’s love, I must vanish—my brothers and sisters are as God to me, I their servant, their hands, feet, and eyes, diligent in service, sincere in devotion, not boasting in effort, praying tearfully for them, living unchangingly for them through prayer for God’s gift, refining my thoughts and words to purify my heart, escaping sin’s mire. Through the truth flowing from the teacher, I’ve been learning and engraving these divine virtues upon my heart.
By learning the contrasts—darkness and light, spirit and flesh, sin and evil, good and righteousness—I am being nurtured by the truth toward God’s nature, becoming His child, bound for heaven. Through sin and evil, both spirit and flesh are being nurtured to repent rightly, and in that process, I am being prepared to receive the gift of God’s power to carry out love and mercy.
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