even if

Ever since I was little, I believed in an impersonal yet compassionate god; he was my superman in times of distress. He would pick me up when I was lonely, when I had nowhere to go, when hope was nowhere to be found. But when I was all good and frolicking through the flowers, that god would be nowhere to be found. That god was a god of trying times, a god that only needed to be called upon in desperate times of need.

Then, high school and college life came along. I knew I had matured, I knew I had grown so much more. And god changed faces once again – this time, he became my Santa Claus. This god was concerned with how good I was at the end of the year, and then would dole out gifts depending on my performance. He had little elves running all over the place all the time, watching me and trying to see if I was a good Christian. These elves couldn’t get into my house, though, so I could be a different person at different times and places. At church, I was holy and righteous, serving with humility and knowing when to pray and what words to say, knowing how to please my leaders. At home and outside, I was different, bitter sometimes at the work I had to do in church and the time wasted, angry that I had to suffer so much because I was a Christian and had so many duties. Santa god still approved of me, though.

Not long after, I shunned that Santa god, because who believes in Santa, anyway? He gradually became replaced by a personal God. I didn’t always know where He was, what His plans were. Actually, I didn’t even know if He was always there. But because of my uncertainties, I needed faith. Not blind, irrational faith, but faith and trust in that someone who was supposedly everything I needed. This God knew everything, He was everywhere. I didn’t want to believe it. Santa was much more convenient to believe in. And as I attempted to come out of hiding to reveal myself to this person, I began to find that He didn’t care how many good things I had done or how faithful I had been to serving the church. All He cared was that I knew that I was loved by this Jesus, this person who I only mentioned at the end of prayers for convention’s sake.

And I could write a thousand testimonies about how Christ has changed my life drastically. But to tell you the truth, I can’t say that. I am a doubter, I am ambivalent. I’m constantly straddling the line between greed and generosity, between love and anger, between compassion and indifference. I know what is right, but sometimes, it’s just a lot more convenient to do wrong and then tell myself God will forgive me anyway for what I do. But what the Bible tells me, what God tells me, what the world often forgets, is that God suffers with us when we wrong Him. The testimony of that is Jesus Christ.

So, I still go out and serve the church, maybe begrudgingly sometimes, but I do my duties. I don’t know how to remind myself that it’s not an obligation, but it just feels that way sometimes. Sometimes, I just can’t bear to give up my time for something as ridiculous as believing in an invisible God.

Maybe God has always been there. Maybe He’s never changed. I will never be completely sure of His existence, presence, and His love for me, but I will continue to follow and believe – and hope, that He’s always been the same God, and that I was the one who has changed over time, and that one day I will become the person I was supposed to be.