Posts Tagged ‘journal’

This year, the Lord revealed truths about Himself to me—
Not in grand gestures and excessively dramatic style,
Not in the form of a burning bush or a speaking donkey,
Not even in the guise of an angel in a dream.
But He showed Himself to me in the little, everyday things—
in verses daily read, in hymns often sung,
in casual conversations, in trivial tasks—
which I think is even more majestic and astounding.
 
This year, He taught me He knows me inside out
And that He’s the best person to teach me lessons—
Never too hard so I’d inevitably fail,
But also never too easy so I’d get too comfortable.
He taught me to fully let go of my life’s steering wheel
And wait on His every turn with patience and complete trust.
He taught me to never doubt His loving care,
To never question why He puts me in situations,
But simply to ask how to best glorify Him there—
How to best bloom in the garden He has placed me.
 
This year He revealed to me matters of the heart,
Teaching me to love more unconditionally His people,
And let go of things that aren’t meant for me.
This year He taught me that letting go doesn’t always have to be painful,
And that painful breakage can be beautiful too.
Like a vessel breaking and showing up cracks,
Only to reveal golden light inside.
 
Yes, this year, God broke my heart—a lot.
But it all turns out to be a beautiful breakage
And, dare I say it, may He prepare me for more heartbreaks.
Because it was when he broke me that I’ve seen—
I am in need of nothing and no one else but Him.
 
This year I learned to be more honest with the Lord—
With how I feel, what I hope for, what I’m confused about,
Things I want to know from Him and of Him.
My relationship with Him grew so much deeper as He taught me
That I can really and literally talk to Him as I would an esteemed friend.
And isn’t He the best person to be friends with!
 
This year I learned to laugh more heartily—
Not because I have no more cares and concerns,
Not because I can see the solution in every problem,
But because I’ve clearly seen how God is very intimately involved in my daily life—
And with a loving and Almighty God writing your story,
Who needs to fret on the plot development and ending?
 
This year I found myself singing along with Horatio Spafford when he wrote,
“Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say, ‘It is well, it is well with my soul.”
Has God spared me from traumatic trials?
It is well with my soul.
Has He kept me from getting things I thought I’ve wanted?
It is well.
Has He told me countless times to let go?
It is well. It is well.
 
Because what He ultimately taught me this year
Is that I may never be enough,
But He always is. Always will be.
And I guess that’s the best lesson of all.
 
And so, yes, I’m now facing a new “turn” in the road.
And I can only smile excitedly as I wait to see,
just right there at the corner, what He has in store for me.
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An Unsettling Paranoia

Posted: July 14, 2015 in Prose
Tags: , , , , , ,

July 7, 2015
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I really appreciate this notebook. As an effort to make the fellowship among SGC youth more intimate, a youth meeting every Sunday afternoon was formed. But Ate Hapi also wanted to have a talk just among the girls. And understanding that perhaps spoken words (not poetry, lol) may be a challenging avenue of expressing ones thought. Ate Hapi gave us this. Supposedly, this is for questions and thoughts one would like to discuss.

Mine is not a question, nor a logical/reasonable thought. It’s a paranoia, a fear on what’s yet to happen. One also that I haven’t been able to shake off, for years now. And that is, my fear of being hurt by the ones I love.

Mingling with non-Christians and becoming friends with people who do not hold on to the same faith as you do is not so grave of a conflict. Dwelling on the common ground, one can actually work with them; laugh with them, even. But whenever I get to think of these non-Christian friends, there is always, always that looming thought.

The thought that, one day, the civility would have to end. That the common ground would cease to exist. The thought that, today, it may seem that we are treading towards the same direction, but someday the road will be forked and the demarcation line shall be clear. That, right now, we may be content to leave each other in peace with out own personal convictions, but someday we would wake up and find out–we can’t do that anymore. The rift would be too great, the division too vast. There would be no more gray area. Everything, everyone, would be in black and white. Hard line. Explicit.

And then–I think–what? What would happen then? What would become of us, of the years of friendship and laughter, and sorrows shared together? Would it become a shield to protect me from agonizing pain, or would be the knife to wound me lethally from the inside?

You see, that’s what I fear. I fear that, because these people I dearly love do not adhere to the same belief I succumb myself to, and because one day the “wicked shall be wicked still and the righteous shall be righteous still,” they would actually be the cause of my future affliction. Persecution.

I could already picture myself in the years to come–being tipped to the authorities by a Catholic, hunted down, captured, and arrested by an agnostic, tortured and executed by an atheist. The image burns in my head, perpetually. To the point that, at times, it gravely affects my dealings with these people. That sometimes I’d wish I could just shut them out of my heart and keep my emotions at bay.

But then the question remains, and the fear, the paranoia, is still not dealt with. Would the friendship suffice, when fate has declared the war? Because more than the idea of being persecuted, I melt with fear and anxiety with the thought of having to suffer affliction and betrayal in the hands of people I used to share such golden memories with.