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The life I’ve chosen and lived since meeting the teacher is one I could never have imagined in my past days of planning my future. The true value and standard of my life have shifted 180 degrees. Leaving behind my lifelong family, job, and friends, I decided to live here for those more burdened and suffering than myself. My life wasn’t particularly unhappy compared to others, nor was I struck with a terminal illness or plagued by problems—I was just an ordinary 32-year-old. Yet, hearing the truth through the teacher completely transformed my life.
Around age 30, I stumbled into a church by chance. Raised in a Buddhist family, I defied their opposition, enduring being treated like an invisible person by my parents, so drawn was I to that church. I thought I’d met God there, believing that following Him would lead to a beautiful, joyful, satisfying, and happy life. That joy was fleeting. Reflecting through this truth on the life I chased in church, I see I was lost in grand delusions—thinking I knew God’s love, was a child of salvation, and followed His will, all while destined for hell. I, like other churchgoers, believed we were children of salvation, destined for heaven, filled with the Holy Spirit, and that our pastor’s words were true. I can say with certainty that most of us, myself included, were neither children of salvation nor bound for heaven’s gates—we were doomed to die. Though Scripture clearly distinguishes right from wrong, we lacked eyes to see it, a shepherd to teach it plainly, and, as it says, “Having eyes but not seeing, ears but not hearing,” I was blind, blindly trusting the pastor’s words. My faith was a false construct of pride, obsession, and vain delusions. I didn’t know. I thought I believed in truth and that the pastor’s words were it.
Had I not come here and heard the truth through the teacher, experiencing the Word directly and comparing my past self, I couldn’t have said that “God’s love” can’t exist or be found in any church life. God’s power works in those who forsake themselves, take up the cross, and pursue Christ’s hope—not in those who blend with the world, as the Word says you cannot serve both God and mammon. I was shocked to learn that prayers for worldly gain, lust, and greed aren’t heard by God, that His true power can’t work in such people, and that demons instead operate in them. How we receive salvation, why the Word says it’s not in words but in power—I now understand Scripture, and it’s slowly being experienced and evidenced within me. Before, Scripture and my life felt separate, a disconnect I sensed; now, experiencing it and applying the teacher’s teachings directly in my life makes it clearer.
This isn’t intellectual, theoretical, or academic teaching—it’s life teaching in every aspect. The truth applies immediately, evidenced through my own experiences, making the difference starkly clear. The “God’s love” churches preach was mere human affection—temporarily comforting, satisfying, and joyful, but vanishing soon after. It shifted with my mood, circumstances, and emotions—just fleeting. All believers in the world, across religions, follow doctrines seeking something, hoping for love within them. But through the truth I’ve felt and experienced here, I see no “beautiful love of God” I sought anywhere else. I didn’t even know I was seeking an unshakable, unchanging love—one I’d never received from my parents—until I experienced it through the teacher. It’s not just me; others here universally affirm feeling it, proving its existence. There’s a way to attain that beautiful love, taught by a shepherd found only here—that’s why I see this as truth and follow it. If I hadn’t felt its value, why would I, sane as I am, abandon parents, siblings, friends, and personal desires to endure and persevere here? Something precious I hope for is being fulfilled, taught, learned, and experienced only here—that’s why I stay. Had I not felt that love’s reality through the teacher, or if he’d said only he could have it and we couldn’t, I’d have no reason to remain.
To “love your neighbor as yourself” and “love even your enemies,” I desperately need God’s unchanging love and power. I haven’t attained it yet. If I’d lived with nothing else in sight, humbly thanking God, relying solely on Him with desperate longing, embracing Christ’s hope, I might have. But though my heart desires it, I haven’t fully forsaken my desires and greed—loving other things—so I haven’t received it. This process isn’t unnecessary or unimportant. Without it, how could I know my sins, my problems, why I can’t fully follow God, what sins my emotions birth, how they arise, or how truth works in me? I must learn all human nature’s flaws through myself. Without this, how would I know my sin’s root? I must learn and internalize all the fundamental issues of human nature that arise throughout every stage of this process through me. If I do not know this, through what could I possibly understand the root of my sin? Only by clearly seeing my flesh’s sins can I later, when grace controls my habits, realize it’s not my effort but God’s power transforming me through grace. Wouldn’t I come to deeply realize and bear witness that the sins arising from desires I cannot control no matter what I do cannot be changed unless it is by the power of God? Within myself, through my own willpower, determination, and resolve, such a power of love cannot exist. Church taught love as if it’s already in me, that I act it out, calling it faith, fueling it with sweet words, but reflected through truth, my shifting emotions reveal no love to embrace enemies. Seeing I can’t even love the teacher who unwaveringly loves me, how could I love enemies or sincerely pray for my neighbors? I’ve learned through myself I lack that beautiful love. All I chased in church, thinking it God’s, was an empty shell—trash, a hollow husk. Realizing this through myself is why I see this as true truth and chose this life, abandoning my past.
I didn’t instantly know the teacher embodied unchanging love, that God’s love doesn’t waver, that he’s without emotion, what the Holy Spirit is, how he differs from us, or that he holds truth’s spirit as God’s true shepherd. I learned it through years with him, feeling and experiencing it. Who’d believe such a person exists? Even I, though grateful for his care, felt hurt when rebuked or misunderstood, growing angry, resentful, and upset. I judged him, doubting from day one if this was a cult.
That tinted lens gradually shifted as I lived here, learned the Word, and received rebuke. At first, I thought, “He’s wrong, I’m right—he’s 100% mistaken, I’m blameless, he’s just misunderstanding.” But with each rebuke, I began doubting myself—maybe 20% him, 80% me, then 50:50, 80:20—until I wondered, “If he’s 100% right, what’s wrong with me? What flaw am I missing?” I started seeing myself through this. Truth is light, life, a living force, a mirror, he said. Light reveals my darkness; its living force applies to all my life, turning me to God with its power—that’s why it’s truth. Had church teachings or sermons wholly transformed me, granting unchanging love, I wouldn’t be here. Even if I resolve to change with a determination as if ready to die, I absolutely cannot change. No matter how much I struggle to live kindly and righteously—telling myself not to sin, weeping in repentance, praying to God, shouting, crying out ‘Amen, Amen,’ pounding the ground in grief—still, I found myself falling back into the same sins again. Why? I lacked God’s power. Only through it can we change. Why we’re born into sinful flesh incapable of avoiding sin is within God’s loving providence—a vast, deep, wide truth no world offers. Without it, could I accept “Satan’s child, full of sin”? Would I have questioned my faith or existence?
I’m still lacking, but early on, I couldn’t grasp why sinful habits form and appear so I couldn’t accept them. I didn’t see the value of examining every sin from my greed and seven emotions or why it mattered. Sin was to be avoided, goodness pursued—that’s faith, a righteous life; failing meant “Your faith is weak”—isn’t that every religion’s teaching? Salvation comes through seeing my sin, receiving God’s grace.
The teacher rebukes not mistakes but our sinful habits, showing why they grow, their source, why I sin, why I can’t stop—refining me. I didn’t know I sinned so much. I thought avoiding harm to others meant no sin, but countless sins brewed within me instantly. I didn’t know they were sins or why I couldn’t stop despite knowing. Only God’s powerful tongues can control these habits, freeing me. Through the gifted individuals here who bear the fruit of God’s tongues—the sign of spiritual circumcision—I’ve come to understand, ‘So this is what true gifted ones are like.’ I see their fruit—younger yet wiser, selfless, deep beyond comparison—shaming my gap, proving power’s difference isn’t from study or effort.
I’d never heard sin could be grace. Sin is sin, and evil is evil—it is something to be avoided. I was deeply moved by the teacher’s words on how sin could possibly become grace. Hearing it from the teacher struck me deeply—God is merciful and loving, His wisdom beautiful and perfect, the true essence of love. If sin had simply ended as sin, it would have remained nothing but pure evil—utterly worthless and meaningless. But when it becomes a chance to seek goodness, turn to God, and receive beautiful love, it becomes grace. For those with Christ’s hope, sin fosters humility, confession, repentance, a foundation to truly seek God—not just sin, but nourishment for greater love and nourishment that leads us to look to God. Like leaves growing, wilting, decaying into fertilizer for new growth, our inevitable sins, through God’s grace, mercy, and love, turn us to Him—a beautiful providence and ideal.
Truth’s words are beautiful. The teacher’s praise feels like spring sunlight—calm, warm, soaking into my heart like a sponge. An unknowable force upholds my weakness, comforts my wounds and sorrow, rebukes me, centering me to fully pursue God.
The teacher’s rebuke feels natural when aimed at others—“Oh, I see”—but for me, it’s mortifying, angering, hard to accept, my pride resisting. He says rebuke is our life, but I can’t fully receive it without forsaking myself. Yet, I also feel that the rebuke is God’s love meant to save me. Is this the two hearts fighting? Who else but the teacher could ceaselessly offer such care and love? This is why I feel this is truth through him.
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