What is truth to me? I want to express, even just a little, in words all that I have seen, heard, learned, and experienced so far. Since childhood, I vaguely attended church and believed in God, but there was always a lingering doubt in one corner of my heart: Does God really exist? Even while attending church, the Bible was merely a textbook unrelated to me, and instead of finding anything to learn or emulate in the pastors who claimed to testify about God, I saw them mistreating congregants for the sake of money. Eventually, I gave up, resigning myself to the belief that “God does not exist.”

My family and I spent four years with a woman who claimed to be one of the two witnesses in the Bible. Through her, I came to believe in God. She taught a mishmash of Christianity, Buddhism, and Eastern philosophy—a veritable hodgepodge of doctrines. She sometimes spoke in tongues and taught various things, but all that remained for me was a lack of warmth, no inspiration, just memories of being brainwashed. It was in those days that I met the teacher.

Likewise, I’ve often come across people here who are struggling with different kinds of emotional and psychological pain. As I hear their stories, wounds, sins, and sources of shame, there are times when I honestly cannot see where God’s providence might be at work. Some stories are so complex, tangled, and burdened with pain that no clear answer seems possible. And yet, the teacher listens to each case and begins to untangle the knots of emotion and logic—from beginning to end—as if already knowing the entire path. Without hesitation or difficulty, clear answers are given, and time after time, I’m amazed by how every answer is precise, fair, and just—so much so that I cannot help but acknowledge, ‘There’s no way that could be wrong.’

Before encountering this truth through the author(From here on, I will refer to him as ‘teacher.’), my mother, younger sister, and I lived under the oppression of a church and pastor for ten years. They ruled over the congregation with fear through “Physical touch as part of a healing prayer(ㅡBut it was like abuse more than healing for prayer)” (physical discipline), wielding “spiritual” authority as a weapon to silence dissent and abuse believers according to their tastes.

Before coming here and learning this truth through the teacher, my family lived nearly four years with a woman who called herself a Christian. Through her, I first learned about the Bible and came to believe in God. Knowing nothing about Scripture, I assumed everything she taught was true, accepting it without doubt. She claimed these were the last days, that judgment was nearing, and that we must shed flesh and blood to stand perfect before the Lord’s return, using this as a pretext to instruct our family.

Truth is the principle governing all worldly affairs and the universe from the beginning to the future. It reveals the essence and limitations of humanity, serving as God’s righteous law that enables us to transcend those limits—a living, breathing power.

I’ve attended church since I was young, following my mother in an environment where I had no choice but to believe, not knowing anything—commonly called a cradle faith. The church I went to was led by a pastor claiming strong spiritual power, speaking in tongues, prophesying, casting out demons, and healing the sick. I often followed my mother to revivals, Friday all-night prayers, and dawn services, sometimes living with the pastor or at the church.