The tape ran its length, but the man was still eating. Again, I became impatient and said, "Carry on with your meal. I will meditate first." I spoke with the dignity of an "apostle." He raised his head, looked at me, and said softly, "I thought you wanted to cry!" His words almost made me cry out loud.

When he finally finished eating, he came over and said to me humbly, "Now I am ready. Will you please tell me how to meditate? I didn't hear clearly yesterday." When I gave him the verbal instructions for the Convenient Method, his expression was like that of a Ph. D watching a primary school pupil reciting a chapter. His face glowed, and I cannot remember how I managed to say it all.

He sat humbly on the floor, like an innocent child waiting for God to descend. After the meditation session, he told me his miserable story. He was a follower of Hare Krishna, and had been a vegetarian for twenty-five years. During the turbulent years in his country, he had fallen victim to religious persecution, and then was framed by gangsters. As a result, he was deserted by his family and had to depend on others, earning his daily bread by distributing the Bhagavad Gita (an Indian sacred text referred to as 'the Hindu Bible'). My life in our heaven-like ashram was completely different and I had never seen such hardship. Not knowing how to comfort him, I blurted out, "Meditation can solve any problem!"

Observing that I was at a loss for words, Mr. Wanderer changed the subject. "I came here today to tell you how I feel about Master. I have heard lectures by other renowned masters, but none of their words touched me. However, after you gave me the sample booklet the other day, I could not sleep that night. I read through the entire book, and felt a very strong energy. Master's teachings suit me well, and I know She is no ordinary person."

Before leaving, he took out a small drum, beat it adeptly and sang, "Hare! Hare Krishna!" Because Master had once taught us to sing this tune, I softly sang along with him. Suddenly, I seemed to have returned to the good old days when I was an ignorant, worry-free and dumb disciple at Master's feet. It had been a long time since I felt so relaxed; again my eyes became wet. He piously sang several songs, absolutely engrossed in praising God. Silently, I prayed to God to bless this devout disciple.

I asked him why he did not look for another job, and he said, "I am willing to carry this cross. I am not completely enlightened, but I share with people everything I know." How beautiful is such a spirit of sacrifice! In contrast, I, a disciple of the "Living Christ," might grumble just because a journey is exhausting or I experience obstacles. His words were truly a very effective reminder for me. The master that Mr. Wanderer believed in had left the world, and he had not secured inner communication, while we Quan Yin practitioners have much inner experience and receive loving care from the physical form of Master. Unable to forget the hardships She endured during Her quest for the Truth in the Himalayas, Master is always concerned about the daily necessities of the messengers, not wishing us to undergo the suffering that She did. Wherever we go, arrangements are always made for fellow practitioners or friends to receive us. Compared to the other apostles throughout history, we are like children from a wealthy family enjoying studies overseas.

Out of sympathy, I was going to offer the man some money. But on second thought, what was so bad about being poor? This was the life he chose. I observed his gentle magnetic field and complete compliance with God's will. This was the invaluable treasure that God had bestowed on him and no one could take away. I have traveled to many places and met all kinds of people. Some were very rich, but they always complained about their slightest ailment. Our innocent Mr. Wanderer was far richer than these people. And his solemn attitude toward life was even more awesome!

It was getting late, so Mr. Wanderer picked up his only belonging, a haversack containing several copies of the Bhagavad Gita. He carried it on his back, as if he were bearing a cross, and walked toward the door. Suddenly, he turned around, and with palms closed and seemingly anxious to express himself clearly, he uttered to me in broken English, word by word: "Perhaps, tonight, God wants to give you ... a present!" I was again shocked, but to hide my feeling, I deliberately pretended to be indifferent, and said casually, "I know! There is a present every moment." He laughed, and that mysterious radiance lit up his face again. "Thank you for this wonderful evening!" Again he closed his palms and bowed. "Only Master!" He said.

Then it was my turn to stammer. It was not until he was about to go out of sight at the turn of the staircase that I was able to utter, and not without difficulty, "Thank you! Thank you very much for your love!" I had spent a long time pondering his words! Mr. Wanderer heard me and paused for a brief moment. Having confirmed that I understood, he said nothing more, held tightly onto the "cross" on his shoulder, and left without turning his head.

That night, it was my turn to be sleepless! On my mind was what Master has often said: "I send them out not to deliver sentient beings, but to deliver themselves!"

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