Thursday, June 17, 2004

Keeping the Faith

Two ladies came to my door one day, looking for my housemate but found me at home instead. They were "witnesses of God", here to spread the "truth" and set the wayward soul back on the straight and narrow. Why is it that they always seem so suspicious to me, and why do I feel so wary of what they might have to say?

Granted, it's nothing that I haven't encountered; it's not a new experience, and I have no new questions about life, love, hope, and "God"... I still find it hard to truly open my heart to "God" again. If it is a conversion of religion and beliefs they offer, "No thanks; been there, done that. Now what else do you have?"

I truly believed that my experiences back in my Christian high school were good, and I still do. But good as they were, I also believe now that our faithful teachers left out one of the most important lessons that is essential to our everyday life outside the campus walls: how to apply our knowledge and our faith effectively. By sheltering us from what is "the world", we never had a chance to really practice what is preached/taught to us. Yes, we know about putting our faith in God in times of hardship and conviction, but where was "God" when I was alone in a foreign country during the time my friends died in a car accident, and there was nothing I could do to stop anything? I...FELT...NOTHING.

There was no calm in knowing that the boys were off to a better place; no hope in understanding that "good-bye" is not forever; no comfort in the claims that I'm not alone; and no easing of my pain when I poured through Bible verses, songs and prayers taught to me. Where was "God"? In the church? In my heart? In the hearts of the people at the church? No. In my head.

For the many years i'd truly believed that I knew and felt "God" in my heart and in my life, it was all in the mind and not really in my soul. My faith shattered when I'd started to feel alone, without my "eternal Father, Son, and Holy Spirit". What had my Christian teachings leave me? They left me with verses, songs, countless memories that I have no doubt will cherish the rest of my life. The thing is, my heart was bleeding itself to death, and the bandaids was too small, too faulty, and too few. I'd tried to be strong, I'd tried to seek "God's" comfort, but I couldn't find Him. I got angry. The single paif or footprints were mine, not His.

Forget all those times when I'd found out that our teachers were being sacked for not living a completely Christian life... Forget all those times when some teachers showed less than the basci goodness of humor, fun, and professionalism when they criticized students for "childish and stupid" ideas. Those were minor compared to the overall resentment and confusion those things instilled in us. We were taught to have a sense of acceptance and understanding of differences, of things that "God" may not like but exists. The sin is about being unlike Jesus, not in being human. The thing is, aren't we the imperfect judging the other imperfects? Who are we to say that "we accept you for who you are"? Who are we to say that someone ought to be taught a lesson because of what they have done? Who are we to ponder upon whether someone's going to hell for not following the "right" religion? Who are we to forgive others???

It's not about being disappointed, it's about being hurt. All those years they tried to protect us, but in the end, they actions hurt us. It's only human and I don't really know if it's all their fault anyway. It's just that the feeling is there, and it's never good.

"What does God require of us?" Good question. "Death onto our old selves and the world's ways"? We are required to be rid of the who we are and start living like Christ, and to be devoid of worldly desires. How do we become anything other than ourselves? Maybe not what we are, but just human? "God" may bring out the "better" side of us, but our sin will always be there. Our sin lies in the fact that we were even born to this earth.

There's so much pain and anger everytime I think of all the things my friends could have done if they were still alive. After four years, I still cry for them and feel like screaming when I remember that I can't hug them or hear them speak, or forget the sounds of their laughs. I distinctly remember that, when I hugged them for the last time, I somehow had a feeling that I wouldn't be seeing them for a while. I didn't know why then, but now that I do, it doesn't bring much comfort.

While I don't dwell on them being gone, their not being here reminds me of what I'd never learned to do.... Grow stronger.

0 Comments:

Post a Comment

Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]

<< Home