December 29. 1998
Dear Mary,
Now it is the Christmas night, silent and a bit cold. We here have no any celebration.
I recalled an old story:
I am sorry I send this improper letter to you, not bringing you laugh but tears. But you know, how I love the cross! How I am sad in the heart seeing lots and lots of people worship the Savior of our life in the sinful way!
Every thing we do, we do it with faith. A mature person does nothing capriciously. I know your love is real. I believe God has brought my love to you. What I worry about is that I do not want the worldly things to occupy most of your time and heart and to make you weary out because "the world is under the evil one."
Every great hero in the churches' history is warrior of God, not fearing any pain, being arrest, disease, biting, danger, horror and so on, because God's will is more important than their own life. Paul knew clearly that he would undertake persecution in Jerusalem.
He said, "I consider my life worth nothing to me, if only I may finish the race and complete the task the Lord Jesus has given me, the task of testifying to the gospel of God's grace."
His words encourage me always. I really want to be like him, being a true man in this world, a light in this darkness. Many of my dear sisters and brothers are suffering for the Lord, I pray that may God give me a heart of a good soldier to glorify him also. I admit that I am a very weak person, but he must strengthen me with his great love through any kind of cross. The heaven is coming.
Recently I visited http://www.catalog.com/endtimes/homepage.htm (The homepage does not talk about Christianity. That they worship St. Mary is not in accordance to the Bible.)
It warns me. I do not know what exactly you think about The End Time, I ask for you to prepare yourselves to be holy and perfect to welcome our Lord. May my letter bring you the great hope instead of sorrow. May the cold wind bring my warm heart from afar.
Pray for you
Silan
I send you a Card from my heart.
A mother and her son were very poor. In order to endure the cold Christmas Eve, the mother warmed the son with her body, telling the boy the dream of heaven. She told him three golden carriages flew to the great light, taking her and her son, with songs and happiness. When God's light made them forget all the pains, the mother died in the dark night. The son left home to find his own dream in tears the next morning. I don't know what reminds me this, maybe I think in my deep mind that I'd rather be like the mother selecting the heaven than any worldly enjoyment.
( I send this letter late)
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