.
Reading Sella’s writing left me so astonished that my mind reeled, my body trembled, and my own self seemed so utterly insignificant that tears flowed endlessly. It was as if I were reading the teacher’s own words. The wisdom with which situations were described was so clear, delicate, profound, and sweet—wisdom so deep and multifaceted that I could never dare to imitate it. It felt broader than any worldly knowledge or wisdom could ever reach, a writing that could only come from someone who has received God’s grace. Though I’ve pursued this truth two years longer, when I look at my own fruit, it’s so pitiful, barely at a child’s level, not even worthy of a business card. I felt so ashamed I wanted to crawl into a mouse hole.
We both received much rebuke and went through trials together, yet Sella’s gift of wisdom blooms as a fragrance and an example in life, while I remain stuck at this childish level—what a shock this was to me. How earnestly must Sella have clung to God and prayed while pursuing the truth, sometimes falling and rising again, wrestling with heartache through that process? Even if Sella were to leave for the world, having learned the truth, its value would not be lost, and there’d be no meaning in going out—so in that refining process, with no choice but to hold onto God, how much must Sella have struggled, endured, and prayed? Even within grace, the path hasn’t always been smooth. Learning the Word, studying habits, accepting and experiencing God’s providence—through thousands of cycles of hitting limits within habits, falling, and rising again—I saw Sella working with the teacher on the Word, staying up countless nights, giving their utmost until late hours and early mornings. Despite receiving endless rebukes from the teacher, which could have driven anyone to run back to the world, I saw Sella endure and exercise self-control. Truly, God loves, upholds, and grows them. That’s why every word of Sella’s writing carries depth, feels alive and moving, touches the heart with emotion, and helps me experience more deeply what God’s wisdom is like.
Reading the heart that relies on God in the writing, it was simple yet detailed, gentle yet clear, revealing the core in a way that pierced my heart with earnestness. It felt as though the teacher’s teachings were treasures embedded in the tablet of her heart. The gems engraved there seemed to shine with light. The desperate desire to pursue the words of truth felt like an unshakable rock. Even the questions posed carried depth—not questions that come from mere head knowledge, but ones that arise because the teacher’s teachings have become sustenance in her heart, enabling her to ask anew. Unlike me, when Sella hears rebukes, though it’s painful and bitter, she reflect, wrestle, and examine herself, earnestly and desperately seeking to engrave and accept the teacher’s words deeply. There’s a delicacy there, a heartfelt gratitude for meeting the teacher and learning the truth, and though still lacking, it feels like she is building a solid fortress with that earnestness and delicacy.
From a young age, living amidst hardship, pain, and sorrow left scars on my heart, forming a victim mentality that shaped habits in my life. Hardened by my own standards and assertions, my words and actions became rigid, an absolute habit I couldn’t escape. Even when others spoke, I couldn’t let go of myself or listen without thrusting out my own standards, unable to see or gain depth. This habit applied at all times, so even when hearing the same rebukes, I took them in my own way, filtered through my own standards, resulting in varied shapes and colors. The gap in the depth of the vessel holding the truth became glaringly apparent.
The teacher, enduring cold and heat without shelter, fasting as if it were a meal, praying and teaching, told us that believing and following this Word leads to salvation, guiding us to abandon worldly things and gain the hope of Christ in our hearts. This useless, sick sinner was personally sought out and gathered by the teacher, allowed to taste peace and joy unknown in the world. Having never received love, I was always desperate to cling to something, but meeting the teacher, who valued and loved this dying life so dearly, left me content and grateful with nothing left to envy. Yet, as I heard the truth and my wicked habits were pointed out—sharply drawn out like a needle by the teacher’s rebuke—it weighed on my heart, darkening it. Gratitude faded, and I thrust out my own standards, unable to listen, growing resentful and disobedient like a fool. When the teacher rebuked me, I was too afraid of the stern voice to speak my heart, feeling hurt that the teacher didn’t understand me, piling it up inside. I thought my words were right by my standards, but when the teacher raised his voice in rebuke, I’d get angry and defiant, convinced I was right, unable to hear. Over time, I’d realize, “Oh, that’s why he rebuked me,” and my heart would acknowledge it. Seeing others praised stirred jealousy—I wanted to do well and be praised too—and I became overly conscious of others’ reactions. My heart was always tense, determined not to fall into habits, but it was just resolve without action. When I fell and was rebuked, I’d cry out to God in frustration, “Kill me, kill my thoughts,” but I couldn’t pray with the teacher’s kind of 40-day weeping tears. I lack endurance, self-control, sincerity, and devotion. Though I sometimes pray with tears for the teacher and my brothers and sisters, I haven’t prayed earnestly as if they were my own body. When teaching others, my moral judgments were harsh, leading me to respond with emotion rather than compassion, making others uncomfortable with my scrutiny. I failed to serve the precious souls God sent me as I would my own body, always thrusting out my standards and measures. The teacher rebuked and taught me about these habits, but I didn’t listen to the words of life, treating them lightly.
The Word seemed sweet when received, but after swallowing, it turned bitter in my stomach—neither able to spit it out nor digest it, I let precious treasure rot inside me. This ignorant, foolish sinner failed to value a treasure more precious than anything the world could buy, demanding the fleeting desires of the flesh like a stubborn child. Blinded and deafened by greed born of my desires, I plead: Have pity on this sinner, kill me. I dare to look to God, seeking forgiveness to cast off this sinner’s ugliness.
In the past, God showed me great glory, saying, “This is My beloved son and servant Moses. Serve him as you serve Me. If you treat him as a husband, you’ll be cursed; if you serve him as God, you’ll be blessed among blessings.” Twenty years later, my sin of failing to fully obey this word is a thousandfold, ten thousandfold. My sin of not obeying like Abraham, harboring resentment and bitterness, is so great I fear death. I turn back, prostrating before the Lord, pleading for mercy on my sins. Govern me so I may obey Your precious Word fully and become an example. Have pity on me. Though I can’t sing of Your love, my sin of resentment and bitterness has blocked my heart, preventing me from receiving the nourishment of Your Word. I’ve piled up proud sins without fear, bearing seven detestable emotions.
Opening the lid of my heart, I find it filled not with anything good but with all manner of filth and trash. Having become a fool who neither heeds nor listens to teaching, I lament and weep, “What shall I do?” Have pity on this sinner. Plow the thorns in my heart, grant me a new heart to build a firm foundation and rise again. Let my past disobedience be a lesson, leading me to the right path of goodness. Only God can save and renew me. I seek the clear wisdom to live joyfully and thankfully in that grace, bearing witness. Fill my lips with wisdom that I may not speak in vain, standing in the path of righteousness to praise God. Govern me. God’s love is eternal. Let my prayers for Abraham and the people of Israel never cease.
.
.
.