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.

I came to truly realize that the “Holy Spirit” comprehends all things. As a former atheist from a Buddhist family, I began believing in God and scoured internet sites and Christian books for answers. With no one to explain God to me in detail, I had to seek out information myself. However, every book, pastor, and teacher said different things, leaving me questioning:

During my middle school years, when I longed to know God, a neighborhood friend led me to a rural church. By high school, I found church life enjoyable—Scripture was inspiring, singing hymns was uplifting, and serving felt like a natural duty for a believer. I attended Sunday services, evening services, Wednesday services, and Friday all-night prayers without fail, serving as a Sunday school teacher and spending nearly all day at church on Sundays. I was zealous in the youth group and even planned a short-term mission trip abroad, though it never happened. After marriage, my husband limited me to just Sunday services, and after our divorce, raising two children alone freed me from interference, allowing me to pursue the faith life I’d always wanted. Despite having little and working a modest job to support my kids, I rejoiced that God had made unworthy me His child.

For over ten years, my children and I lived painful days due to my wife’s mental illness, unable to lead a normal life. At night, sleep eluded us—tormented by sleep paralysis and nightmares. Closing my eyes brought terror, so we kept the lights on, but rest was impossible. Social phobia, fear, panic disorder, sleep paralysis—she couldn’t leave the house alone, living in isolation and seclusion, attempting suicide multiple times. We hid or discarded anything that could become a weapon. She took dozens of medications, trying every recommended remedy, but nothing worked. I took her to church for counseling and laying on of hands, but it was futile, leaving only deeper wounds and greater pain.