I was raised as a Christian by my parents. I remember attending a regular catechism class every Saturday and going to Sunday mass with my family. I also remember participating in many rituals and ceremonies that I hardly understood. I nonetheless went through them as a matter of compliance.
I must admit though that Christianity never took its roots in me. I became a Christian because that was the religion I grew up with but I never really understood my faith. I went to church regularly, got married under traditional church rites and even had my children baptized as Christians. Not once however had I opened the bible to find guidance on how I was supposed to live my life.
I had many legitimate questions about Christianity and sincere misgivings about some aspects of my belief. But I was too guilty and embarrassed to raise them. I also began to be scared and unsure whether it was permissible to express uncertainty about God, Jesus Christ and the Bible.
For a while, I kept the questions to myself – unanswered, unexplored, hidden beneath my heart. I tried to suppress them and pushed them deeper and deeper until they were forgotten. Or so I thought.
When my father died, the questions began to resurface, grow, fester and loom. This time the questions weren’t just about religion anymore. I was confronted by my own mortality and there was a quaint uneasiness in my heart. What is the meaning of life? Why do I exist? Is there really a God?
I remember looking intently at my father’s grave, and telling him – “now you’re gone. Soon I will be gone. Three generations from me, no one will remember you anymore. You are now a dust in the wind, as I am. Is this everything to it?”
From that point on, I knew that I was entering a new passage. I felt like something within me was unlocked. There was no stopping the massive outpouring from the floodgates of my heart. I knew that I couldn’t go on until I pursue the answers that will satisfy my soul.
Thus began my spiritual journey
2 years ago