Into the Arms of God at Last

“How can I live in a way that is more worthy of being called a child of God?”

Lately, this question has been on my mind from the moment I wake up in the morning to the moment I fall asleep. I attend worship with my family every week and try to share the truth with those around me whenever I have the chance. The words of the Bible do not always flow as smoothly as I wish, yet that very weakness makes my heart even more earnest before God. For those who knew me before, it would surely be surprising to hear the word God coming from my lips.

Growing up, I naturally considered myself a Buddhist, influenced by my parents, who practiced Buddhism and regularly attended the temple. After marrying into a Catholic family, I began going to church with my husband. With sincere intent, I even joined a catechism class, but rather than learning from the Bible, the focus was on memorizing the catechism. This did not sit well with me, for I have a nature that longs to fully understand and embrace whatever I devote myself to. Sensing that it was not a good fit, I decided to stop attending the class and returned to following my mother to the temple. Life felt too uncertain to rely on myself alone. I even studied at a Buddhist college, memorized scriptures, and visited temples across the country whenever I could, offering prayers for my family’s health and prosperity. At the same time, I often relied on fortune tellers—even for small matters such as my children’s wedding dates or moving days.

After discovering my granddaughter was sick, these tendencies of mine only grew stronger. Thinking of her and my daughter was almost unbearable, and whenever customers at my beauty salon suggested, “Try praying here,” or “I heard someone was healed there,” I clung to any glimmer of hope, wandering from place to place. At one point, I even spent time and money following advice that honoring ancestral spirits would help, but it only left me more burdened and took a toll on my health. Deep down I knew this was not the answer, yet my anxious heart drove me to try anything I could. And so, thirty long years passed in this way.

Just as I had resigned myself to spending my remaining years in quiet reflection, simply seeking a little peace of mind, an unexpected call came from my sister-in-law.

I had long heard that my sister-in-law, once a Catholic, had changed her religion many years ago. Relatives who passed along this rumor never gave details, but they always warned me not to follow her, so I did not give it much attention. Then, one day, unexpectedly, she reached out and invited me to hear the words of the Bible. I was pleasantly surprised. Over the years, many had tried to lead me into different religions, but no one had ever invited me to a Bible study. Outwardly, I firmly insisted that I would not change my faith, yet inwardly I felt drawn and joined her gospel presentation via video call.

Her first presentation was about God the Mother. The reasoning seemed simple enough: just as a father exists, so must a mother; if there is God the Father, there must also be God the Mother. Yet hearing it for the first time, I found it hard to accept right away. I even sought out opposing views in an attempt to challenge it. What amazed me, however, was that my sister-in-law—who, like me, had been Catholic—now had such a deep understanding of the Bible. Sensing there must be a reason, I began studying the Scriptures seriously with her to understand it for myself.

All the teachings my sister-in-law shared came straight from the Bible, and there were no contradictions. I learned for the first time about the beginning and end of our souls, and about the heavenly home to which we are destined. Life, which had once felt vague and uncertain, suddenly became clear. Though the books of the Bible were written across many ages, they fit together flawlessly; each verse seemed freshly written, clearly revealing to me what the truth is in my life today. Through the patient guidance of Christ Ahnsahnghong, who led me to walk the right path, I came to be certain that He is truly God. Overwhelmed with the joy of finally meeting my spiritual Father and Mother, I was reborn as a child of God.

After that, the words of the Bible began to resonate with me more clearly. Everywhere I had sought answers before, I only encountered claims where “1 + 1” could somehow equal 5—or even 100. In contrast, the truth of the Church of God consistently said, “1 + 1 = 2,” and I was amazed by its clarity every time. While I regretted not discovering the truth sooner, I was deeply grateful to return to God’s embrace—thankful that it was now, not five or ten years from now.

Hoping that my loved ones would not waste time as I had, I first shared the news of salvation with my daughter, who lives with me. One of the main reasons I had sought the truth so diligently was my desire for her to live happily under God’s protection. I assumed she would embrace it readily, but decades of hearing rumors and misunderstandings about the church had made her hesitant. I prayed earnestly that her heart would open, and after encouraging her to at least listen to my reasons, she agreed to study the Bible. Through the unified prayers of the members in Zion, a miracle occurred. Three months after my baptism, my daughter accepted the truth and, together with her children, received the blessing of the forgiveness of sins. Just three days later, my mother also came to salvation.

Since then, the atmosphere in our home has changed. Each morning after breakfast, we gather at the table to watch video sermons and pray. After returning from worship at Zion, my daughter’s eyes sparkle with joy, and gratitude flows freely from her lips. She shares her fragrance of Zion, saying the sermon felt as if it were spoken directly to her. I had long tried to ease her worries while she cared for her sick child, yet nothing I did could bring a genuine smile to her face. Now, seeing her smile each day fills my heart with gratitude to God.

It would have been selfish to keep this joy to myself, so I shared the gospel with my youngest sibling, the one closest to my heart. Decades of misunderstandings made her initial response cold, which was painful, so I began sharing the truth with others first. Even as I saw my son-in-law, longtime acquaintances, and regular customers come to God, my sister never left my thoughts, and every prayer I offered began with her name. Finally, I said, “We don’t have time to waste. Listen for yourself, and if it doesn’t feel right, you can guide me to the truth yourself.” At last, she nodded in agreement.

During this year’s Passover Preaching Festival, I shared the words of God with my younger sister every single day. I could sense her once-frozen heart softening as it was refreshed by the water of life. Sometimes, when she missed something, she asked me to explain it again. I spoke until my voice grew hoarse, and from May onward I began sending her church-related videos as well. I wanted her to understand that the Bible is not just an ordinary book—it is the story of our Heavenly Father and Mother, and a heartfelt letter filled with God’s earnest call to find and save Their lost children.

In June, I invited my sister to the church so she could study the truth more deeply. She understood everything perfectly, but at first, she hesitated to be baptized. She explained that if she were to take that step, she wanted to do it wholeheartedly—simply getting baptized and then continuing life as before would trouble her conscience. Yet in a world where no one can predict the future, when could we ever find the “perfect” moment to receive God? Understanding that becoming a child of God is the first step to entering His kingdom, her heart finally opened, and she soon became part of the heavenly family.

It was a long journey for me to finally return to the arms of our Heavenly Father and Mother. I often reflect on what might have become of me if my sister-in-law, worn down by years of coldness and rejection from her own family, had not shared the words of the Bible with me. The thought that I might still be wandering through an uncertain life is truly sobering. While I struggled for thirty years, she faithfully walked the path of faith alone. It must have been incredibly lonely, yet she never gave up her mission to share the message of salvation. I am deeply grateful for her unwavering devotion. Because of her dedication, not only I, but also my beloved family, have been able to experience eternal joy. I give endless thanks to God for guiding every step of this journey.

I still have many family members and friends who have yet to hear the message of salvation. Although I strive to study God’s word diligently, I still feel there is much for me to learn compared to the members who received the gospel long before I did. Yet I trust that God sees the yearning in my heart, and I continually pray for His guidance and strength. My earnest desire is to grow into a true child of God, faithfully studying and sharing His word alongside my devoted fellow gospel workers.