None Knows Me Like the Teacher

A personal testimony by Lai Wanzhu (賴婉珠), a Yiguandao practitioner and temple kitchen worker, narrated to Zijing (紫晶) who compiled and arranged the account. The title 感應三千 plays on the Yiguandao concept of 三千功八百果 — the three thousand merits and eight hundred fruits a cultivator must accumulate to return to heaven — while evoking the broader meaning of 感應, the resonance between the divine and the human, the Teacher and the disciple.

The text records three encounters with Ji Gong (濟公活佛), the Living Buddha — Yiguandao's most beloved folk deity, known for his tattered robes, his laughter, and his earthy intimacy with ordinary believers. In one encounter, Ji Gong visits a kitchen worker in a dream. In another, he consoles a widow through a spirit-writing session at a phoenix temple. In a third, he hands her peanuts to count. Each meeting is small, domestic, unmistakably tender — a god who knows your name, your grief, your age, and comes not to command but to check on you.

The text was published on taolibrary.com (善書圖書館) as part of the morality book tradition (善書), in which free distribution of spiritual literature is itself considered an act of merit. This is the first English translation.

It was around the spring of 1999.

"Wait — isn't that the figure of our most revered, most beloved Living Buddha?" I had just stepped out of the kitchen when I caught sight of a familiar silhouette — someone I had longed for day and night. He came striding in through the front gate, slightly hunched, wearing a tattered cassock, thin as bone, a broken fan in his hand. He fanned himself gently, then turned his head and smiled at me.

"Teacher! Teacher! Please, sit down —" I called out urgently in my dream.

"No need," he said. "I've got to run. I just came to check on you." He spoke in Taiwanese, because that is how I am used to talking.

"Teacher, won't you have some tea?"

"No need, ha ha — no need —" He kept nodding and smiling.

I woke with a start, my heart full of wonder. Why did the Teacher come to my house? I am so small and insignificant. At the temple I only help in the kitchen — cooking and washing dishes. What virtue or ability do I have, that a great teacher would trouble himself to visit my humble home?

As I turned it over — ah, perhaps the Teacher came to see whether his disciple was well.

The next day, Huade Buddha Hall held an event. About thirty people gathered for a fellowship, and the grand finale was a raffle. One by one the others won their prizes. Inside, I grew anxious — why hasn't my turn come?

"Number one! Number one! Grand prize — Sister Lai!"

The announcer's voice rang out.

Oh! — Heaven's grace, the Teacher's virtue. The grand prize turned out to be a photograph of the Living Buddha. If I connected it with last night's dream, wasn't the Teacher plainly telling me that he is everywhere, always by his disciple's side, watching over her?

With a grateful heart I placed the Teacher's photograph on the altar table at home. Every day I bow before it, offering my most sincere and devoted heart.

I still dimly remember — before I received the Dao, I used to help out at a phoenix-writing temple. One year, my husband suddenly departed this world. For years the pain was branded into my heart, impossible to erase. I blamed him — how could he be so heartless, leaving me behind, going on ahead? Why couldn't he stay a little longer, so we could go together?

In those days, every minute was resentment and every second was sighing. The resentment and the sighing wrung my heart until it ached. I was unbearably depressed.

One day I went to the phoenix temple —

"Old Bodhisattva! Old Bodhisattva! Quick — go to the main hall! The Living Buddha is calling for you!"

A senior sister came hurrying over.

"Ha ha! Enough now, enough! Stop your mourning — your husband has been right beside you this whole time! You just don't know it!" He spoke in Taiwanese. "Ha ha!"

The Living Buddha's face was full of smiles.

The Teacher's warm, heartfelt words — in that moment my tears streamed down my face, and a warmth flooded my heart.

Grateful, content, and moved all at once — he even knew about my attachment. The Teacher who knows all things came to comfort this foolish disciple.

Ah — none knows me like the Teacher.

"Come now — I have a few peanuts here. Count them and see how many there are."

The Teacher is so compassionate.

"One, two, three... sixty-seven."

Wait — exactly sixty-seven? That was my exact age that year.

Peanuts are fruit — they can stand for the merit-fruits of a cultivator. Could the Teacher be encouraging his disciple? Of the three thousand merits and eight hundred fruits needed for the return to heaven, perhaps I have stored up sixty-seven so far. But I must keep going — do more good works, fulfill more vows — so that the Dao may be accomplished in heaven, and I may be free and at peace.

"... Though your deeds may earn no salary,
Heaven will repay you a thousandfold.

The Teacher is the god in this world who understands you best.
The Teacher is the god in this world who loves you most.

No matter how weary the Teacher grows,
No matter how worn the Teacher becomes,
The Teacher is forever by your side — adding spirit, adding wisdom.

Disciple, never let your resolve retreat.
Disciple, keep your heart sincere.
The gates of heaven will open wide,
Forever waiting for your return."

Every word of compassion in this hymn entered my ears and sank into the sea of my heart, warming and warming — until I was smiling even in my dreams, la la la...

Colophon

Lai Wanzhu's testimony is the humblest text in the Yiguandao archive — not a patriarch's revelation, not a deity's command, but a kitchen worker's account of being loved by the divine. Ji Gong, the Living Buddha (濟公活佛), appears here in his most characteristic form: tattered, laughing, speaking Taiwanese, handing over peanuts. The three encounters — dream, spirit-writing, counting — trace a single thread: the Teacher who knows you, even when you do not know yourself.

The title 感應三千 binds two meanings. 感應 is resonance — the sympathetic vibration between heaven and earth, teacher and disciple, prayer and response. 三千 is the three thousand merits (三千功) that a Yiguandao cultivator accumulates toward return to the Court of Principle (理天). The resonance of three thousand: every small act of devotion is heard; every peanut is counted.

Source text from taolibrary.com (善書圖書館). Narrated by Lai Wanzhu (賴婉珠), compiled by Zijing (紫晶). Translated from Chinese for the Good Work Library by the New Tianmu Anglican Church, 2026. Gospel register.

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Source Text: 感應三千

Chinese source text from taolibrary.com (善書圖書館). Presented here for reference, study, and verification alongside the English translation above.

感應三千

知我者莫若師

賴婉珠口述　紫晶整理

莫約在1999年春天

"咦? 那背影不就是我們最最崇敬最最親愛的活佛恩師嗎?" 後學從廚房走出來時正眼瞧著一個多麼熟悉, 心中朝夕企盼的身影---衪微駝著背從大門大踏步進來, 一身破袈裟, 瘦骨嶙峋, 手中拿著破扇. 恩師扇子微微扇著, 轉過頭來對後學微笑.

"恩師, 恩師, 請坐請坐---" 後學在夢中急忙招呼

"不用啦, 為師馬上得走人, 我來給妳看看---" 恩師操台語(因賴姐習慣台語對話)

"恩師, 用個茶好嗎?"

"不用啦, 哈哈---不用啦---" 恩師一直點頭微笑著

後學從夢中忽地醒轉, 心中疑惑著又好奇想著恩師為何來後學家? 後學是那麼微不足道, 在佛院只是在炊事組幫忙做菜洗碗, 何德何能讓一代明師移尊駕來至寒舍呢?

想著想著---啊, 後學想有可能恩師來探望徒兒安好吧!

隔天, 華德佛堂有活動, 約有30人左右參與同樂會, 活動壓軸是抽獎, 前頭許多人都已抽中, 後學內心吶悶, 怎麼還沒輪到我???

"1號, 1號, 頭獎---賴姐---!"

報獎人拉開嗓門

啊!--- 天恩師德, 沒想到第1號頭獎居然是活佛恩師的照片, 如果和昨晚的夢境串聯起來, 不就擺明恩師在告訴後學, 祂無所不在隨時隨地都在徒兒身邊護佑著哪.

後學懷著感恩的心將恩師的照片擺在家中佛桌上, 每天頂禮膜拜, 獻上我一顆最虔誠的真心.

猶稀記得未求道前, 有時去鑾堂幫忙, 有一年, 老伴突然撒手塵寰, 多年來在後學心中烙下不可磨滅的傷痛, 我怨他為何如此狠心丟下我一個人先我離去, 為何不多陪陪我, 再一起走.

那陣子每天分分怨, 秒秒嘆, 怨與嘆揪得心頭疼, 鬱卒異常.

有一天至鑾堂—"老菩薩, 老菩薩, 快, 快去前頭大殿, 濟佛在呼喚妳啦---"

師姐急步前來

"哇哈, 好了啦, 好了啦, 勿再怨嘆啦, 妳老伴一直在妳身邊陪著妳啦, 只是妳莫宰樣啦(台語)--- 哈哈"

濟佛笑容滿面.

恩師溫暖窩心的話語, 後學當下淚水滿腮, 心窩暖和和

也感恩也知足也感慨, 連我的執著, 恩師也無所不知, 來安慰我這個傻徒兒, 唉---知我者莫若師哪---

"來, 這裡有幾顆落花生, 妳數一數有幾顆---"

恩師非常慈悲.

"1, 2, 3,----67"

咦? 恰恰好67顆, 正是後學此年歲數.

落花生即是果實, 可代表修道人行功的功果, 莫非恩師在鼓勵徒兒, 距離三仟功八佰果已儲到67果, 但仍須再接再勵, 多行功了愿, 回理天才能道成天上, 逍遙自在.

"-----徒兒的所做所為雖無薪水
上天會補你千倍
師就是世界上最懂你的神
師也是世界上最愛你的神
不管師多疲憊
不管師多憔悴
師永遠在徒身邊加靈加智慧
徒兒要志不退
徒兒要真心對
天門會為你敞開永遠等你回-----------"

恩師在這首善歌中句句慈悲的話語, 字字扣入我的耳根, 一股暖流沉入我的心海, 在心中加温加温---讓我夢中都在微笑啦啦啦~~~

Source Colophon

Chinese source text from taolibrary.com (善書圖書館), category 9 (善書) entry c918. The site states: 歡迎轉載，上傳，翻印，流通 — "Welcome to reprint, upload, reproduce, and circulate." Free distribution of morality books is a spiritual practice in the Yiguandao tradition.

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