Tempted to be His own rebel
When I hear random non-believers
Question my belief of the true salvation
Leading me to join their denomination
Where is GOD? I don’t know.
There is no God, they laugh
They mock with enough sincerity
I hear members of the church preaching in the cold streets
This is God and no other
If you hear what’s being said, you’re there to follow the herd
Where is God? I’m not sure, maybe in the Bible? In Quran?
In the foyer? In your pocket? In your brain?
How about asking yourself, what happened to you why can’t you find God?
Nah, who is God anyway?
Jehovah? Jesus? Allah? Buddha? Cat? Dog? Mouse? Rock? Mountain? River? trees? Myself?
Perhaps God is the force? The cell? The lost chimpanzee? The movie director? The chef, or your nasty neighbor?
How many a time have we been questioned?
How many a time have we proven ourselves, the world and Stuart Little?
Yet the answer remains a question to be answered
Throw in and out of the waste bin, recycled, refused or reused
Hand me the truth!
Oh you mean the subjective truth?
Bring me someone who has seen Your God.
There isn’t a need to.
It’s enough that you touch yourself, feel yourself and the energy around you, then, ask yourself again if there really isn’t God?
We’ll never get to the bottom of this.
Believe that there is GOD.
Don’t resist him so hard
Desire Him to come into your life
To know God is to accept God amidst confusion, despair, happiness, grief and madness
He’s not the book, the sculpture, the idea, the cup of coffee on a regular day or the warm liquor you worship at night when you’re down as fuck
All these are His provisions
He will manifest as He has already manifested Himself.
This is the God I know.
My name was one of the early rising church goers
My hand being held by Mom with my cheerful Sunday’s dress
In the church, we sang Christian hymns, kneeled thrice, held hands, prayed for grace, submitted our sins, kissed the wooden saints and God’s carved images, lighted candles for wishes to come true, donated money for the church, took the bread of life (they said), asked for the forgiveness of our sins, kissed and blessed the hand of the priest, cried in extreme agony and made a long historic confession
But also in the church, we looked at other men and thought who was more handsome, was it the guy in red or the man on the altar? We chatted nonsense things, closing our eyes; pretending with our busy and dirty minds the next dress we’d wear at the party, the whereabouts, some enemies we condemned and not forgave, how much money we had to donate for the church or where to get my sister’s tuition fee, house rental and all these ever-growing predicament
Together t’was a family activity from a not so distant familiarity
Getting up seemed to be an argumentative discourse rather than an automatic reflex in my brain,
To which you could guess the latter was my ultimate destination
As a child, that was the tradition.
But as a child too, I enjoyed more the post-activity of eating out and riding boom cars at the metro mall than the banality behind religiosity.
Even though I couldn’t argue then it was a feeling I constantly felt but put aside
As I used to feel like a doll being dragged by its excited owner
Bible reading or preaching was never a routine task or an encrypted understanding
So even the joys and love of it became a feeling of nonchalance
Funny how we got stuck in this tradition of religion when we were never the lover of the Bible
As idle procrastinations and conventional trainees nurtured by the nameless ancient paganistic rule of worshipping God (whichever adjective comes first, I’m not sure ;-))
I was never taught and I never learned you see, I didn’t understand anything but had to follow everything.
And I used to be that consistent, obedient and obligated child of hypocrisy ( here comes another adjective structure :-/)
To a much bigger and bitter scale, this existed in the family (only Satan knows when)
But childhood must go on, isn’t that the case?
It wasn’t really a struggle to carry out such a controlling practice but more like a constant nudge to question the ideology in the subconscious
It was a ‘ I’m supposed to ask you, him or them (whoever is an expert) where and how it’s grounded and why but remained silent. ‘ —not wanting to anger or argue with anyone.
So church-ing (really I’m verb-ing it :-)) became less significant to an extent of ignoring then walking away from it.
A week ago, I was once again put to the ‘girl being questioned scene’ when I ate at a canteen near my workplace by someone who seemed to be the enlightened one, I reckon.
He asked as I made the sign of the cross in front of my meal
“Was Jesus the one who cooked your fish? Did he send you the money to buy all your needs?”
And I was like what? Hell no. (that was a quick self-serving answer from me who was no less than caught off guard by the sudden interruption
Or perhaps, I just didn’t know how and what to answer, should I explain or tell him? OK and if I decided to then, what should I say? (sigh)
because even the basic act of thanksgiving, I still struggled to keep my tact and confidence which stemmed from NOT knowing; NOT understanding therefore, silence! I had to be silent. Otherwise I’ll run the risk of failing to prove anything or defend something.
I learn NOT through Bible reading, or listening to some false prophets, movies and movie reviews, history and literature.
But by Faith.
Even if I know enough through reading and listening or nothing at all, I decided to just believe.
I know that most of us want to remain grounded, we want answers to validate our own truths, we want a more combative debate to prove who’s right or wrong, great and small, we want to uncover the mystery surrounding us in this lifetime, we want a more secured future, endless love and perfect life.
Hence we try our best to learn astronomy, theology, physics, biology, psychology and neurology to understand everything in order to have a sense of belongingness or satisfaction or even become the God ourselves.
Because learning and understanding all things mean, we can get ahead of others even to ourselves. It means power. This desire to be powerful brought inconsistencies and pain in our lives. And yet, how easy it is to blame our circumstances, other people much more GOD for our own selfishness and pride. (I hope I didn’t sound preaching. I too need to learn to understand)
I believe that there is GOD. And that Jesus is my one true savior. I claim His existence in my heart.
I don’t need to flag this to everyone, show them his physical house or existence, I don’t want to exaggerate but
I just want to believe that through His blood I’m saved. I’m forgiven and that is more than enough to keep my sanity and restless heart.