James Oberg

The facts as I have come to know them, and so I testify: Rev. Sun Myung Moon and his wife, Hak Ja Han Moon, are the True Parents of all humankind, the returning Lord, Messiah, and Savior at the Second Advent. Rev. Moon passed into the spirit world in August 2012 after having lived his victorious life in accordance with the will of God, which leaves his wife — the only begotten daughter of God and embodiment of the Holy Spirit on this earth — to lead us. Now for the events which led me to this conclusion.

I began my life in the Los Angeles area and with my parents attended the Church of the Reflection, a Lutheran church at Knott's Berry Farm. The church itself did not make an impression on me as much as the trip to church at times did. We had to cross the main line of the Santa Fe Railway to get there. Occasionally the lights, bell, and crossing arm protecting the crossing would activate and begin to come down. My dad would do everything in his power to avoid stopping and waiting for the train. I would look through the back window of our car and catch a glimpse of the speeding train passing where we'd been just moments before.

But one time we didn't make it to the gate before it had fully blocked our path. It wasn't long before my anticipation was rewarded with seeing this red, yellow, and silver arrow flash right by there in front of us. That arrow pierced my heart and I was only four years old. I knew from early on what I wanted to become — the guy up in the engine running the train. Now it just so happened Knott's Berry Farm had a train which ran around its property — a steam train, different from the red and silver beauty I'd seen on my way to church. When I became five years old, my parents enrolled me in Sunday school, which just happened to be held in one of the coaches on that steam train. Just being there was a great thrill for me. Now imagine what it must have been like for me when the train ran around the park on occasion with us kids on it, in preparation for their day's activities.

At home, on my dresser, I had a small folding card which sat up there all day collecting light. I was alone in that room at night — my sister had her own room. At night when my mother put me to bed, and after reciting a children's prayer, she would leave and close the door. That little card up on the dresser would glow green, and there would be the face of Jesus, his eyes looking right at me. Somehow I felt comforted by that stare. Wherever I moved, his eyes would follow. That was the beginning of my awareness of spirituality.

My sister had a childhood friend that would come from up the street to visit. They were older than me by a year and a half. On this particular day, my sister and her friend got their hands on our rope, threw one end over a tree branch in our front yard, tied a loop at one end, and had me put my head through the loop. Then they began pulling on the end without the loop until the loop tightened around my neck, and they pulled me off the ground. Their laughing must have caught my dad's attention, because shortly after, he burst out the front door yelling, which caused them to let go of the rope, bringing me back to earth. That was my first, but not my last, brush with death.

After moving for the third time, we ended up in a very small town out in the middle of nowhere in Idaho. This is where I became enthralled with the beauty of nature — the smell of rain on sagebrush, or the smell of cottonwood trees in the springtime. My heart goes back to this place, especially when certain smells trigger memories. God created that beauty. I knew that, but hadn't had direct confirmation yet of God's existence. After a couple more moves while growing up, we began living in a small town in Washington State. This is the town where I received confirmation within the Lutheran Church, where now I could begin receiving the body and blood of Christ for the forgiveness of sins. This town is also where I received confirmation of the living God's existence in the not too distant future.

My dad and I went out of town a ways to hunt pheasant one fall day. My dad shot and winged a pheasant which fell to the ground and began running. I ran after the bird and finally caught up as the bird took to the ground, trying to hide from me. I brought the shotgun up to my shoulder and realized I would blow it to pieces if I pulled the trigger. So being the smart young man that I was, I brought the butt of my loaded shotgun into position to come down on the motionless bird with the intention of putting it out of its misery. Just as I swung down, nearing the pheasant, it moved from under the approaching butt of the shotgun. The momentum carried the shotgun to a flat rock the bird had been resting on and made contact, setting off the shot shell inside.

There was a bright flash of light. Time stood still as a clear voice spoke to me from inside, saying, "I saved you for a purpose." The next instant I heard my dad's voice crying out to me in fear, thinking I was a goner. I was wearing blue jeans and a t-shirt while hunting. A shot shell contains, in this order, the shot, followed by wadding material, followed by the gunpowder. On my t-shirt, in the middle of my chest, was a powder burn with the wad mark right in the center.

I showed this to my dad and remarked to him, "Where did the pellets go? That blast should have passed right through my chest. I loaded that shotgun and every shell was a load." I told my dad of the voice I'd heard, but he didn't pay heed to it — he was just glad I was alive. But I know who was at the other end of that voice and have never forgotten or denied it. By the way, I would hear that voice with the same message three more times, when I stood face-to-face with certain death, and I shall recount one more of those events in this testimony. Suffice it to say, God had plans for me.

My dad and I, along with a few of my high school friends and their dads, attended a father-son banquet at the Lutheran Church one evening. Two older men in their twenties shared their testimonies, which moved us younger guys' hearts. My friends and I were invited by them after dinner into the main church to find out more about receiving Christ into our hearts, receiving the Holy Spirit, and speaking in tongues. This was new ground for us. I can't speak for my friends, but my experience was earth-shattering. Upon asking to receive the Holy Spirit, a great warmth and joy flowed into and around me. I cried for joy like I'd never cried. This second confirmation of the existence of God would shape and guide my spiritual life.

After graduation from high school, we moved to Bellingham, Washington, where I would enlist in the Army and do a three-year stint. That decision would shape how I would meet difficulties the rest of my life, for the better. Upon leaving the military, I enrolled in a technical school which had an aviation course. I'd already gotten a private pilot's license before joining the military, and I wanted to continue my aviation career. During that part of my life, I began studying the Bible on my own. I felt drawn to the Bible, and in particular, Jesus. None of my big-city friends cared for anything religious in nature.

My sister sent me a short letter from home one day. For some reason, I put it on top of my apartment refrigerator, unopened. It stayed there for six months, until, while I was cleaning, I noticed it. When I read her letter, it was as if God's own hand had printed the words, preparing me for something to come. I cried profusely — at the time, I didn't have a clue what was to come. While reading the Bible, I would have moments where I would burst out in tears. Upon underlining what I was reading, the words I'd read spelled out clearly the reason for mankind's life on earth — to bring joy to God by loving your neighbor. Simple words, but they etched themselves in my heart.

The day before Thanksgiving in 1973, a hometown friend and I left Tacoma, Washington to head for Central Washington over the Cascade Mountains to spend a holiday with our respective families. It was already winter up at the higher elevations, and my car was not equipped with snow tires. Driving up the west side of the Cascades on I-90, there was the usual traffic. Nearing the summit at Snoqualmie Pass, I came up behind two semis, following one behind the other.

As we passed the trailing rig, the driver tooted his horn and gave us a friendly wave. I thought, that was odd. As we passed the leading semi, we were already beginning our descent on the eastern side of the mountains. As I started maneuvering my car back into the right-hand lane, the car started to fishtail. It became more pronounced until my over-correcting caused the car to spin in circles down the road. When we eventually stopped, the car was in the right-hand lane on a portion of highway that crossed over a small culvert, and we were facing the eastbound lanes.

When I looked out my driver's side window, all I saw were the grills of the two semis coming at us side-by-side. With no possibility of surviving the coming impact, I looked over at my friend in complete calm and said, "This is it." I knew we would perish in the coming impact — there was no way out of it. I looked straight ahead, but I could see in my rearview mirror there was a flash of silver and then an impact which spun the car around 180 degrees. "I saved you for a purpose" — the voice I heard once again.

My friend and I were shaken but unhurt. Incredibly, the semi in the right-hand lane had stopped by the side of the road before reaching us. The other, which had been in our lane, swerved to avoid us but contacted my car with the rear duals of his trailer. From just behind my doorpost was flattened, yet forward of that was untouched. The roadway was black ice. The truck driver who had pulled over came slip-sliding up to my car and asked if we were okay. He was dumbfounded by the fact that he could pull over and stop on this slippery roadway. "It was just ice." Then he made his way back to his rig to call for assistance.

The other truck finally stopped some 200 yards further up the road. When the driver of that truck came up to us, he also was dumbfounded by the fact that he could turn his truck and avoid T-boning us. "Look at this road, it's nothing but ice. I turned the wheel and was able to swerve to the right and avoid hitting you square on." Then he told us candidly, "My company has a policy that if we hit someone broadside, to make sure we kill them so as to avoid a lawsuit." Just said it out of the blue. I was dumbfounded at hearing that. The wreck was cleaned up professionally, my brother-in-law came to pick us up, and we made it home for Thanksgiving the following day — minus the car.

One day in Tacoma, Washington, where I lived, a friend of mine and I walked downtown to Court C, a beautiful outdoor mall area with a water fountain. My friend went off to a record store while I sat and enjoyed the fountain. We had smoked some pot before making that trip, so I was a little more open spiritually. I was looking to the right when I heard a voice on my left say to me, "Do you believe in God?" I couldn't believe what I was hearing. When I turned to look for the source of those words, I met the gaze of a young man of my same age. In the same moment, I felt exuding from him a pure and holy love I had never felt before.

All I could say was, "Yes, I believe in God — and who are you?" He told me he was on an outreach team searching for people to attend an upcoming weekend workshop teaching the Divine Principle of the Unification Church. Leaving my friend behind, this messenger from God and I walked back to my apartment, where we spoke of biblical events and he answered my questions. The weekend was a couple of days off, so I got back into my same old routine. Come Friday night, there was a knock at my apartment door, and wouldn't you know it, Satan was standing at my door. My fiancée's best friend stood at my door with the intent to prevent me from attending the following day's workshop. I let her in with enthusiasm, and she did her best to foil my plans for the next morning.

Morning rolled around, and I found myself alone in the apartment with only my skivvies between me and Nature Boy. There was a knock at my door, and when I answered it, there was the young man from two days previous asking if I was ready to go to the workshop. I was worn out and tired and told him I wouldn't be able to go. He was insistent, though — I had to give him credit for that. I kept making excuse after excuse, and finally, looking into my kitchen at a sink full of dishes, said to him, "I can't go, I've got a sink full of dirty dishes." His reply came right back: "Which is more important, a dirty dish or God?" I said, "I'll be with you in ten minutes." God and Satan work in mysterious ways.

The workshop was held at a set of cottages with a central meeting room on rented Puget Sound waterfront property. My first day went well, and the Divine Principle so far was a tremendous eye-opener. Thank God for open-mindedness and open-heartedness. The second day took me down into the pit of hell. During one of the lectures, one of the staff members came up to me and spilled the beans. He came up to me and said, "Reverend Moon is the Messiah." Being a good Christian, I couldn't receive such nonsense, because the Bible tells me: if someone says, "Here is the Christ" or "There is the Christ," don't believe them — do not follow. I told him to go to hell and left the building to walk a trail down to the shoreline.

I was upset. When I got to the beach and looked around, there was no one in sight — nobody. Every direction, there was nobody except me. A knife-sized driftwood log was in front of me, so I sat down looking at the water. The next thing I heard was the swooshing sound of footfalls on sand. There was no one around when I looked, and no way for someone to walk up on me like that. But here was this bearded guy walking up to me saying, "You want to smoke a joint, man?" I said, "No thanks," and walked back up to the cottages.

Another staff member saw that I was bummed out and asked me what had happened. He told me what I already knew: Satan had sent some of his help to try and dissuade me from completing the workshop. At the end of that workshop, I received revelation through spirit and truth that, in fact, Reverend Sun Myung Moon is indeed anointed, appointed, and approved by God and Jesus to fulfill the second advent of Christ. It seems so amazing to me that as Christians we await the second coming, but it has to be on our terms, our understanding of the Bible. God's understanding is the only one that counts. You search the scriptures, but you fail to ask the author.

I left at the conclusion of the workshop, returned to my apartment, knocked on my neighbor's door, and told him anything in my apartment was his if he liked. I left and joined the Unification Church in Seattle, Washington, in September 1975. Thanksgiving Day 1975 would be spent with my parents at their home. They were bewildered and upset with the choice I had recently made. My mother was the spiritual side of the pair, and her concern prompted her to action. While growing up, nightmares had haunted my dreams, and I gritted my teeth to the point of waking up my parents — that's how loud I was.

Knowing this, my faithful mother made a condition to find out about my recent spiritual awakening. When I awoke the next morning and went into the living room, my mom asked me to come sit down on the couch next to her. She explained what she had done that night. She said she put God to the test by asking him, "If what my son is doing is not from you, let him cry out in his sleep and grit his teeth. But if what he's doing by following Reverend Moon is from you, let him be quiet all night. So I now know what you are doing is from God." Although she didn't understand the depth or meaning of my path, she accepted it readily because I didn't make a sound all night.

After that short stay with my parents, I returned to Seattle — but it was only two short months until I found myself, along with several others, in a van headed for New York City. Gee, imagine that. We were added to Reverend Vincent's IOWC. I disliked street preaching and witnessing greatly, but after uniting and putting myself wholeheartedly into them, my mission changed. Three brothers and I were placed on a restoration crew in the East Sun Building, scraping paint. We sang holy songs as we worked and returned to 47th Street at the end of the day, covered in dust but with high spirits.

Other members found us disgusting and treated us with disdain. Here we spent all day and we're all dirty, and we come back and they're having dinner and we've got real high spirits — they didn't really care for that. A short time later, another mission change followed: we were to restore rooms in the 47th Street headquarters. While having dinner with our little restoration crew, I was approached by Reverend Vincent and asked to come to his office after dinner. What did I do wrong to be called to his office? Once in his office, he asked me if I had any jewelry-making experience.

He told me of a secret jewelry company called Christian Bernard and asked if I'd be interested in making jewelry. A couple of days later, I found myself in the company of brothers and sisters from different countries, living in a house in the upscale community of Forest Hills, New York, a neighborhood in Queens. Christian Bernard Jewelers was commissioned by True Parents to fabricate True Parents' 60th birthday crowns, and I was blessed to be a part of the team that fabricated them. Everyone on the team had an area of expertise. Mine was soldering.

True Parents held a matching in 1979 at the New Yorker Hotel. Knowing you may be selected and matched with a sister whom you don't know, from some place you've never been to, has its magical allure. Completely open to any suggestion from True Father, with a field of hopeful Japanese sisters, the odds of being matched with a sister from the East were great. And so it was — I was matched and ultimately blessed to my beautiful, loving Japanese spouse of 38 years.

In time, Christian Bernard manufacturing moved to Puerto Rico for tax purposes. Puerto Rico is a beautiful island that harbors a dark side — it's sad to see the disparity of income levels and the misery that it brings. While working for the jewelry company, I was asked by my central figure to make a foray to the airport and see if I could find an aircraft that our company could buy to island hop our jewelry.

At the airport, I met the president of one of the commuter airlines, who showed me a couple of the planes they had for sale. We hit it off, and he told me they had a flight school in Reading, Pennsylvania — if I were interested, I could attend their school to finish up my ratings and then return and fly for their company. My central figure agreed. After attending their school, I came back to fly for the first half of the day with the airline and the second half making jewelry, and that went on for a year.

Christian Bernard Puerto Rico had a few brothers and sisters from Guyana, South America. They returned to their country, at which time the brothers purchased mining equipment and went to work dredging a river for gold and diamonds. My central figure asked me to head to Guyana and see if I could get on as a pilot for one of the companies flying out to the interior — or, in layman's terms, the bush.

Traveling to another country looking for work is not something which is done. Upon entering Guyana, they asked me what my purpose was, and I told them I was there looking for a flying job. For whatever reason, they let me stay for two weeks — if I couldn't find work, I'd have to leave. I made my way to a small rural airfield, Ogle Airstrip, and went hangar to hangar asking if anyone needed a pilot. All answered no, except for the last operator, who took me on as a pilot. I remained for two years and then returned to the US for the 1982 Blessing event at Madison Square Garden.

My flying career ended at that time, and I fell back into jewelry making and repair. In 1984, my wife and I moved our entire belongings in the back of a short-bed Toyota pickup from Washington State to Anchorage, Alaska. We reconnected to the church in Eagle River, Alaska, and lived there for ten years. There was a church revival being held in Oakland, California during late 1985, and my wife and I attended this revival and returned to Eagle River rejuvenated in spirit.

I began asking myself, what is truly my heart's desire? Among all things, what do I desire most? The revival had a profound impact on me, and so I began thinking, Heavenly Father, Heavenly Father. This is what I considered to be of paramount importance in my spiritual development — finding a way to fulfill the first blessing of Be Fruitful, making a relationship with our Heavenly Parent. After all, what is the main focus of a developing child? The child's parents.

So I began repeating over and over in my mind the words Heavenly Father, with no real desire initially. By repeating those words over and over, my heart began to change. There came a glimmer of real desire until finally, after some forgotten amount of time, my heart was yearning for Heavenly Father. I got to the point where I was just crying out inside for Heavenly Father — like a baby crying out in the night, with the parent coming to cradle and console. I awoke one morning realizing God was with me. As a wooden match struck along the box ignites, so too the relationship between Father and Son burst into being.

How can this be? Our physical body has a physical brain. We also have within ourselves a spirit body with a spirit brain. Within that spirit brain, there is a place for God to relate to each of his children individually — that is how God can be with his children all at the same time. Imagine a place filled with individuals and families, interacting with one another in joyful, loving, and caring relationships, with God as the center of those interactions. It would be none other than the Kingdom of Heaven.

For five months, this continued 24 hours a day, seven days a week. I experienced Heavenly Father as lighter than a feather, always guiding me to find ways to share my overflowing cup of love with others. This love was not for me, but to be given to others creatively — a simple word of encouragement, a kind action to benefit those around me was my focus. I was on my way to work and he said, very clearly, just simple words: heal people's aching hearts. That was the direction I received — my ultimate responsibility, my job. Soon after receiving that directive, I woke up to an emptiness like I'd never known. I was left to stand on my own two feet to see how I'd do, and that is for another testimony.

After six years of jewelry repair for an Anchorage jeweler, my heart's desire from when I was four years old was finally fulfilled. I hired on with the Alaska Railroad and worked as a locomotive engineer. During that time, True Parents would come to Alaska and we were able to spend time in intimate settings, listening and speaking directly with True Parents. My wife and I returned to Washington State in 1993, and in 1994 I was hired by Burlington Northern Railroad as a locomotive engineer.

As you can hear throughout my testimony, everything I'd ever desired to accomplish was completed. Although I found great joy through flying and railroading, the important things in the eyes of God have gone unfulfilled. My wife and I never bore children and lacked the parental experience in our home life. Now in our middle to late 60s, a child would not fit well — the child would grow up in an environment of grandparents or great-grandparents. Not having descendants to carry on after us is a real heartache.

Family is the core element of the heavenly way of life. It takes brothers and sisters, husbands and wives, grandparents and grandchildren, all in a relationship with God as our heavenly True Parent. During our 21-year course living in Central Washington, my central figure would call from time to time asking if I would attend an event which True Father called members to participate in. For one reason or another, none of the brothers in Seattle would choose to go, so it was my blessing to attend.

In Hawaii, while attending an AALC-ACLC summit, I scoped out a table on the front row, right in the middle of that row. I knew from experience that True Father liked using those in the front row to make a point — and he did. True Father stood right in front of me most of the time, and I made myself available for his examples. I always kept my head like this — when he would tap me on the head with his microphone, the whole room would be filled with a sound coming through the speakers. Bop, bop, bop. It was loud. Or he would pull on my nose or shirt collar as he made a point for all the ministers present.

At one point I was called by my central figure to head for Kodiak, Alaska, and work as a staff member for the ACLC-ALC conference being held at North Garden, True Parents' home on Kodiak. They needed a driver, and since transportation is my forte, I filled the bill. It was actually very tiring, and I found myself exhausted at one point and in need of sleep before continuing. After all the ministers were driven to the airport for their departing flights, I finally caught a break and was asked by a young Korean brother to drive him to the Buskin River so he could fish with True Parents. It was a very intimate fishing experience with only True Parents, their aide, the Korean brother, and me on a fishing platform built by the Kodiak Department of Fish and Game. I watched intently True Mother's method as she fished.

Finally it was fish on! True Mother fought the salmon until she was able to bring it to the edge of the river, lifted her pole and brought the fish over the railing. But something wasn't right. True Mother exclaimed, "What is that?" I told her, "True Mother, that's a rockfish," and everybody laughed. Somehow a fair-sized rock had been impaled by her hook, was fighting in the current, remained on her hook, and was landed by True Mother on the platform. Amazing.

The Korean brother unhooked the stone and was about to throw it back in the river, and I said to him, "I'll take that." He handed me the stone, and True Mother's aide flashed two thumbs up to me, smiled and said, "Alright." Upon returning to North Garden I took the stone over to the guest facility, Angel Garden, to thoroughly clean the stone of the algae attached to it. Lo and behold, it looked like Nemo from the cartoon movie. After drying the stone I took it over to North Garden, contacted True Mother's aide and showed the stone to her.

I remarked to her the resemblance to Nemo and asked if she would show the stone to True Mother. Her reply was, "True Mother doesn't want to look at a rock." I could understand, but this was not just any stone. I pushed her gently with words, and finally she agreed to show the stone. As she walked away I really put my foot in it when I asked her to ask True Mother if she would sign the stone — it just so happens that there was a nice flat area on the stone which could be used for that purpose. Although my question was impossible to ask, I asked it. This wonderful aide — and I cannot say enough good about her — said okay to me and took the stone with her upstairs.

The next day toward the end of Hoondok Hae, True Mother departed the room to go upstairs. After True Father finished speaking and praying, I saw someone approaching from across the room. It was True Parents' aide with a big grin, walking across the floor with her hands behind her back. Just before reaching me she brought her hands to the front, and in them was the stone I had given her the night before. She said, "Look, True Mother signed it for you." My great joy comes from the fact that this particular stone battled it out with True Mother and is now adorned with her gracious signature. Can you imagine having a stone with Jesus' signature on it? True Mother is the living Holy Spirit gracing the earth at this moment in time.

Speaking of Jesus, does anyone know what he looks like? I do, and I'll share that. In the early 2000s, a group of 120 ministers was sent to Israel for a pilgrimage. We went to many of the places where Jesus had been — Caiaphas' house, Galilee, all these places that you read about in the Bible. One day we were at the Mount of Olives, and we were on three buses, and everybody was unloading, so we had to make our way down to the Garden of Gethsemane, which just so happened to be down a cobbled street with walls on either side.

I just focused and went down this road, and as I was going down with all these ministers coming behind, I saw an old beggar. He was sitting down with his hand out, holding a cane in one hand, and when I saw him I was drawn to him like a magnet. I got up to this guy, and I've never seen a person who was blind, who had no eyebrows, no eyelashes, no eyelids — it was all skin. It was really unusual. In Israel their coinage is the shekel, and I had a pocket full of them; their denominations are such that even a small coin could be worth about five dollars.

So I just reached into my pocket, pulled out everything I had, took that old man's hand, and put everything in it. But somehow I felt something different about this guy, and I said, "God bless you." I turned because all these ministers were coming, and I walked through this archway that led to the Garden of Gethsemane. I walked through a little ways, stopped, and turned around — I said, "There's something about that man" — and then turned back because all these guys were coming. So we went to the Garden of Gethsemane.

After we returned to the United States, there was a minister who had traveled with us from Seattle — a Reverend Maliga from a Samoan church. I asked him, "When we were going down that path, there was this old beggar — did you see him?" He said, "Yeah, I saw him." I said, "Did you feel anything about this guy?" And he said, "Yeah, I felt as if it was Jesus meeting us at that archway."

That's what I felt — that this was Jesus — but my eyes were seeing this old beggar while in my heart I was feeling Jesus. Now, I know there's a story in the Bible that after Jesus was risen, two of the disciples were walking down the road to Emmaus, and then Jesus joined them, walked with them, and answered their questions. They felt something different but just kept going, because it didn't look like Jesus — it looked like somebody else. It was only when they were having dinner, and then Jesus disappeared, that they became aware of who it was. One of the disciples said his heart had been burning, because this man was answering all their questions in a way only Jesus could. After Jesus disappeared, then they knew who it was.

I know that I met Jesus in the body of an old beggar. It was a really profound moment, and I could never talk about that without crying my eyes out — but I'm okay now. After 21 years in my hometown, God called my wife and me to move and reside in Las Vegas. We loaded up our camels — a moving van — and the booty we collected through those years and headed south. We've been here three years. Las Vegas is the center of God's providence.

During the course of 42 years studying the Bible and Divine Principle, I've come to recognize the value of the time we are living in. Watching the lives and actions of Reverend and Mrs. Moon unfold throughout those 42 years brings me back to my preface at the beginning of my testimony: the words and deeds of True Parents are evident for all to see if you make the effort to look. Seek and you will find. Knock and it will be open to you. Doing your own homework is your responsibility — no one else's.

It hasn't been easy following this path through the years, but then changing to a God-centered lifestyle has always been our challenge as human beings. It's an ongoing process, and though there have been times I lost faith in myself or my abilities, I never lost faith in True Parents. They are the only reason I joined this great movement — and to help others find their way to meet the returning Lord. Removing the stain on our blood lineage has been God's ultimate goal and His reason for sending Jesus and ultimately True Parents. I earnestly hope that this testimony can serve as an inspiration and guide to anyone searching for a higher calling in their life.