I Believed

I never understood how I came to believe in a high power - or rather what motivated me to wager my life that there was even one.

I grew up in a Christian family, with wonderful, god-fearing parents guiding me - quite literally - along the baby steps of my life. Enter my house and you'll find it modestly decorated, with a wooden plaque of the Ten Commandments sitting comfortably in the middle of the display panel, along with various souvenirs that my parents picked up along the way; well, before I was born. If there was anything that I vividly remembered from my childhood, it would be the countless instances that my parents (mostly my mother) would read bedtime stories to me as I lay tucked in my bed. Like most children, I was fascinated by the numerous miraculous deeds that the bearded man - or at least that's how illustrated books portrayed him - had performed. As a child, unbounded by the laws of physics or even basic reality, I believed it all. Perhaps that's what happened when my parents decided to tell me about God, and all the wonderful things that He could do, if I believed.

And that's what I did, I believed.

Just like any other family, mine too, would have our little spiffs from time to time. We still do, but that's another story. With tempers flaring and storms brewing in the mortal realm, I imagined my relationship with God to be nothing of the sort, just one that heals and restores the soul. I was taught to pray, and so I did; head bowed and knees bent. "God will answer in his own right, and you'll hear Him when he does; you just will," was what my mother would say whenever she sensed the disappointment in me after a fruitless prayer. With that came the terms and conditions of the divine pact which, like promoting a seemingly lucrative deal, no salesman would tell you about. I learned it the hard way, that there was indeed, a price to pay - pain and sadness lurked at the bottom, threatening to pull me under with each unanswered prayer, with each unfulfilled wish. I tried to cling on to that one fragile looking support by the corner. It was dusty - obviously overlooked and abandoned by many. Cobwebs bore signs that creepy spiders were out and about. I gritted my teeth and clung on anyway. That pole was called "Faith".

And that's what I did, I believed.

About two months ago, I celebrated my 21st birthday with my family. To some, it meant drunken parties and wild orgies; but fun aside, it also marks the first step into adulthood. Over the years, I tried dealing with my religious insecurities by chucking it aside, and pretending that everything was still alright. Deep inside, I knew I had to face those issues one day, and so I did - asking questions that had been haunting me. Remembering what my mother used to say about God allowing things to happen for His own greater good, the realization came crashing down - I felt like a pawn. I could not comprehend how God could just sit back and watch the very beings he loved writhe in pain, just so that His greater plan could be fulfilled. Then the breaking question: Is God a dictator? While He promotes free will, believers know better than to defy His intended path for them, as Jonah so cruelly discovered in the Bible. What then, is the point of being given the ability to make choices, only to see it crushed if they aren't God's choice. Sunday School classes teaches us to hope, and cell group sessions teaches us to have faith; and these are questions that will apparently go unanswered, but I'm somehow supposed to believe that God still knows best. On hindsight, faith vaguely reminds me of luck - we hold on and hope that one day, things will be made right, and that all that time and effort invested won't be for naught.

In the end, everyone needs something to believe in, because we all know that there are things in life that we simply can't do all by ourselves. When people rely on luck, it means that they're exhausted from all the trying, and will henceforth surrender it all, hoping for a preferable outcome. Similarly, people who believe in a higher power have faith, because sometimes, situations will arise to make them feel utterly hopeless, and that only God can help them. Movies are made portraying just that - like the Batman franchise; where the people of Gotham cast their hopes on their caped crusader, whom though often misunderstood, saves the day, yet again. Then there are scenes where he doesn't respond to their pleas for help; but they still cling on, not because they're faithful, but because he's the only hope they have. But that's enough for them, and in my own Gotham, it's enough for me too - He will eventually come.

And that's what I'll do. I believe.