Most people who grow up in the church don’t question its existence in their lives. They went to church because their parents went to church; they became Christian because their parents were Christian; and they participated in subsequent Christian activities within the church just like their parents. I, however, was not such a person, at least because of one reason.
It’s not often that I admit this, but it’s often I feel it: being a Christian is hard. I mean this neither strictly in the sense as one who agrees most with the Christian faith and therefore tries to live according to it, nor as someone who is consumed with the Christian label and makes sure people know. In fact, sometimes I think it would be easier if people didn’t know.
In my best efforts, when I reflect on the suffering in our world—at large, in our societies at home, among the people closest to me—I struggle with knowing how to play a part in helping make things right. With all of the noise, all of the opinions, how can I tell who is right and who to side with and how to even think clearly and effectively in the wake of chaos and pain?
It’s through time that a relationship grows. And it’s with patience and persistence that intimacy deepens. Our relationships with God are no different. But do we value the means by which it has to happen?
I have a confession: I don’t feel like I’ve been a good Christian lately. The problem I have with asserting this is, in my best understanding, the Christian story isn’t really about bad people becoming good at all; it is, among other things, about dead people becoming alive. Read More…