Remembering My Teacher — Jesus
Donhoo Min Seoul, South Korea June 23, 2025
Today, during our Book of Grace study, we reflected on the Gospel of John. Through Jae Hyoung’s voice, I heard anew the story of Lazarus’s resurrection—and this time, I felt the tears of Jesus in a way that moved me profoundly. Though I had heard this story before, today it struck a deeper chord, and I found myself on the verge of tears more than once.
I come from three generations of Protestants and studied Christian theology in college. But as I confronted the institutional history of Christianity — its exclusivity, narrow dogmas, and the shallow condition it finds itself in today — I walked away. To be honest, I haven’t changed my mind.
And yet, there was something I couldn’t walk away from. It was the person of Jesus, and the stories of how he lived among others. The story of dining with Zacchaeus, a man branded a sinner. The story of seeing divine possibility in a beggar born blind. The story of standing with a woman caught in adultery, shielding her from death.
Though I rejected Christianity as a religion, I couldn’t reject these threads of who Jesus was. So I peeled away the titles — Savior, Christ, Messiah, Lord — and was left with what felt most honest: Jesus, my Teacher. That was enough.
Around that time, I began exploring other spiritual paths and meditative practices. They brought wonder and healing. And the more I encountered them, the more absurd traditional Christian doctrines seemed. Still, I couldn’t deny a quiet, persistent sense of personal connection. A bond I couldn’t explain or sever. Somewhere deep down, I sensed I had an unbreakable thread to Jesus. And so when I asked myself, “Who is Jesus to me?” — the answer that formed was: “a Teacher.” It was around this time that I began a deeper inner journey, not knowing where it would lead. I repeatedly hit reset on much of what I had believed or trusted. I began asking: “Who am I really? What is life truly?” And as I followed the clues that emerged, I began having encounters that felt unmistakably divine. I slowly came to see: the divine had never been separate from me.
Then I discovered the Art of Living School and began attending the early-stage seminars. As I read works about Jesus that went beyond doctrine, many long-standing questions found resolution. I came to see a deeper, vaster understanding of Jesus and his teachings — one that could never be contained by the modern church. The Scriptures began to open up in new ways, allowing me to meet them in a far more profound way.
Gratitude and blessing — though cherished in Christian thinking — are rarely experienced deeply. But through the seminars, I encountered and embodied them in simple yet deeply transformative ways. As these fragments of realization came together, they began to form a vast, luminous network of understanding within me. Along that journey, healing happened. Breakthroughs came. At times I regressed or circled in place. But even those moments became opportunities, and I found myself able to take a step forward without striving. Each moment felt like a miracle. I even wondered: “Do I deserve this much grace?”
One day I heard Jae Hyoung pray, and he began with the word “Lord.” The moment he spoke it, I felt something melt in my soul. A term I had so long rejected suddenly felt like the only word that fit. It wasn’t the cultish term that exclusionary Christians had turned it into. It wasn’t a phrase to gaslight or constrict me. It was the clearest way to call upon the Divine within me — as my full, unguarded self. Every time I say “Lord” now, I feel my being attune to truth. Heaven and earth align through me. And this remains true even now.
Not long after, as I sat with a book open in front of me, a familiar thought rose up — one that had visited me more than once. This time, I wrote it down. I now offer it again, in today’s language:
Perhaps, long ago —
so long ago that even my memory is faint —
I made a promise
a promise to my Teacher, Jesus
that I would follow you with all my heart
that I had no interest in anything else
that I had no desire to excel at anything else.
The parts of your teaching I never fulfilled,
the wisdom I never quite grasped
I would now carry to completion.
In deep gratitude for Your Presence,
I longed to prepare Your path with devotion —
and with that heart, I came again to this earth.
With all memory erased,
each day on this earth felt like a battle for survival
I was caught in cycles of self-doubt and self-hate
and yet I did not give up.
I chose not to be consumed by guilt
I chose, simply, to exist as I am.
Now, my calling is to follow my Teacher
to choose love with all my might
to forgive my brothers,
so that I and all of humanity may be forgiven.
to see the true identity in each person, and bless them.
There is nothing more important than this
nothing else I value more.
I have come to complete my Lord’s work
and after a long forgetting, I finally remembered:
This is why I came.
Though I have despised what Christianity has become,
the bond I feel with Jesus has only grown stronger.
Was I once one of His awkward disciples in a former life?
Was I Nicodemus? Zacchaeus? The blind beggar?
Perhaps, after losing my Teacher, and years spent in regret and sorrow,
did the Holy Spirit fulfill the promise —
to remind me of what He taught —
and maybe then, I swore that I would be born again and again,
until I completed the task
forgetting even my guilt for having failed before.
So now, I take my place and follow humbly behind my Lord
In the Gospel of John, after Lazarus is raised,
Jesus begins to feel the weight of what’s coming —
He knows He must leave soon
knows His disciples still do not fully understand.
What must He have felt in those final moments?
“Before the Passover, Jesus knew that his time had come
to leave this world and return to the Father.
Having loved his own who were in the world,
he loved them to the end” — John 13:1
He loved.
That was His unchanging choice.
Even as He washed the disciples’ feet — knowing Judas would betray him,
knowing Peter’s loyalty would falter — He loved them, to the end.
To us, it’s a beautiful scene.
But I imagine Jesus would simply say,
“I was just doing what I’ve always done. No need to make a fuss.”
Still, I can’t stop my tears from flowing.
After washing their feet, Jesus offers His final teachings.
Knowing their understanding is still incomplete, He comforts them:
When I go, I will send the Holy Spirit,
and it will remind you of all that I’ve taught.
Then He lifts a long prayer to the Father,
entrusting His disciples — and somewhere in that prayer,
I was included too.
Maybe that prayer still continues even now —
through awakened teachers, through Uranda, through Martin,
through Yujin, Jae Hyoung, Marsha,
through us — through me.
Long ago —
so long ago that even my memory is faint —
I made a vow at the foot of my Teacher’s cross.
And when the Holy Spirit brought that vow back,
I made it again — with my tears,
that I would follow You with all my heart,
that I desired nothing else,
that though I missed the chance when You were near,
this time, I would never miss it again.
Even if I have not fully awakened,
my promise remains unchanged.
Our promise remains unchanged.
The old tenacious habits of sorrow, I now wash away
with the tears of that vow I made to my Teacher.
I wash and wash again.
I will leave behind nothing but love.
