A Trip to Christ

The things people don't want to talk about with their peers have become things I can't help but want to explore. The word "God" would make me seethe in annoyance. I would look around and see the crosses on people's necks, the Buddha shrine in the corner of a home, the deities displayed in a museum and I would always question if all these people were serious or not.

Like, be for real. Y'all believe this? Or do you just like the idea of all of this. You're telling me that all of these religions believe in something different, and spend their entire lives fighting for it; and deep within your hearts, you know that what you believe in is the truth? How?

You must be so lucky.

Atheism was the most logical choice. I held a lot of resentment in my heart and it made more sense for there to be no God. Why would God pick and choose? I was angry, and my life didn't feel fair. Pessimism went hand in hand with Atheism.

After experiencing grief of losing someone dear to me, I became desperate. This couldn't be it. I recall my friend's ex mentioning God to me around this time. I went with them to a book store and looked through the books on the spiritual shelves; fully ignoring any that said "God". I picked up "Be Here Now" by Ram Dass, "The Power of Now" by Eckhart Tolle, and "You are a Badass" by Jen Sincero. The first page to "You are a Badass" told me I had to let go of my distaste for the word "God" to start healing. It was quite hilarious. How did she know!?

I used the word "Universe" to replace it, like she advised. It helped me tremendously.

These books gave me what I needed to trust something bigger than me, and at the time, I was exploring psychedelics and "expanding spiritually". I felt called to go back to the Arts, then felt called to go to Yoga, to get my Yoga certification in Hawaii in 2017. Yoga made me feel amazing!

While there, we hitched a ride on the back of this old man's truck there, and he commented on our Yoga journey as demonic; something that was against Jesus Christ. I ignored it, because he was giving us a ride down the mountain to the beach! It stuck with me though.

I studied Hinduism, the 7 paths of Yoga, read "The Bhagavad Gita", and meditated multiple times a day. Did my mantras and my chants. I felt enlightened! I was glowing! I felt myself cry through Kundalini Yoga. I, I, I!

I also watched all the drama around the retreat unfold. So much "spiritual ego". People thinking they were more spiritual than others, better than others. My roommate even wrote a letter to me and said I needed to check my own ego. I was shocked! All this ego, where is the love!?

My teacher there in Hawaii spoke about the importance of not idolizing someone, how he's had a bad experience, and many people use the "Guru" position to control students. I saw that instantly when I came back home and learned about what my favorite yoga teacher at the time did behind closed doors.

Feeling the disappointment again, when someone you look up to is, in fact, flawed.

Human.

Growing up, you really learn that you can't rely on other people, or expect other people to be perfect. People have selfish desires, and it is in human nature. I spent that whole year reflecting over this.

I.

I wanted to believe so bad.

This guy invited me to this chanting ceremony one day in his room with two other people and we chanted the "Brahmananda Swarupa" chant for an hour straight. He was a student of Sadhguru. After an hour, my throat became numb. It was cool. I felt a high, and afterwards we went to the beach with a full moon out. This was also when the other two suddenly disappeared and when we found them, one of them was disassociating and freaking out while the partner didn't know what to do. It was like they were possessed by something dark. It sure felt eerie.

Over the next few years, my anxiety got worse. I didn't feel satisfied in many parts of my life, and I was obsessed with self-love more than ever. That's what all the ads told us to do! For someone that was obsessed with herself, it's kinda embarrassing how many crash outs I had. Suicide was always present in my mind, even as I expressed gratitude and appreciated nature around me.

In 2019, I packed my bag and went to Asia, where I got to explore "Voluntourism" (Volunteering and Tourism). We got to see some Buddhist temples and I found these temples to be captivating.

It is so cool that people can believe in these things.

I put my hands in prayer and acknowledged the statues with my eyes closed. Maybe by doing this I can feel what everyone is feeling.

II.

While on the trip, we went up to this Lahu village called Hoi Ngu, where our guide warned us to not poke fun at the spirits. That if we needed to go to the bathroom at night, to bring someone, and that if you heard your name, a random touch, or the smell of burning meat, to not acknowledge it at all.

WHAT?!?!?!?!

Me, being me, instantly respond by saying out loud, "Spirits I respect y'all, I pee at night please do not do that to me."

That night I had to pee.

I stayed in a room full of 18 volunteers total, with two per mosquito net. Maddie was my partner. I slowly felt myself wake up, and laid on my mat waiting for her to wake up since I didn't have to go that bad. I had one arm propped up in an L position, and that's when I felt Maddie tug on my finger. I didn't hesitate. As she pulled my pinky finger, I instantly sat myself up and with my eyes closed, told her, "Okay, let's go".

I was responded with dead silence, with a slight snore in the distance of the room from a different volunteer. With my eyes still closed, I ask, "Maddie, are you ready?"

She stirs awake, and mutters, "What?"

My eyes slowly open to the darkness, and I ask, "Didn't you have to pee? Isn't that why you woke me up?"

And when I hear her tell me she's been sleeping this whole time, I felt fear rush from my head to my toes and pang in my chest so loud it vibrates my ears. At this point, I'm fully awake. We are both under a mosquito net, just us. It wasn't a dream. I know in my soul it wasn't a dream. I laid there in my thoughts, in the silence when it happened.

I pressed my body against Maddie and pretended to sleep. I was shaking. She asked me what was going on and I said nothing and let her fall back asleep. I, for the first time in my entire life, prayed.

And I wasn't pretending. I wasn't meditating. I wasn't chanting a Sanskrit mantra I learned during my Yoga class.

I said anything and everything I could think of to make me feel safe. I didn't know what to say but whatever I thought of I repeated it until I had to think of something else to keep myself from peeing all over our bed mats. I had to pee extremely bad at this point.

God is real and God loves me. I love God because God loves me.

I am safe because God loves me. God is real and he protects me.

I am loved, I am protected, I am safe.

God is in me and I will be okay. God is in me and I am okay.

I love you. I'm sorry. Please forgive me. Thank you.

It felt like hours. That night felt like 30 nights, and I wondered when the rooster would croak. I ended up waking up Maddie multiple times that night crying for her to walk me outside to the bathroom, and to hold my hand while I peed and promise me that she won't ask what happened.

She also never talked to me again after that day.

Totally understandable. Sorry Maddie.

At one point I drift asleep. This time I know I am asleep, because in my dream, I am telling my volunteer guide what happened. I feel a volunteer come up from behind me and hold my shoulders while I'm speaking about the touch, to then the volunteer leans into my ear and whispers,"Did it feel like this?" They press me down so hard that I wake up like someone just jumped on my chest.

That night sticks with me. I remember promising myself multiple times that night to remember everything. That it was real, and it happened. I remember that I didn't hesitate after that dream. I ran out the door just as I heard the rooster croak. It was dark blue out, and I sat at the steps, defeated. A dog walked up to me and sat next to me the entire time until people stirred awake. I don't remember praying again for a long time. I began to thank God more.

III.

If there is darkness, if there are things I can't see that can touch me, then there is a light that can touch me.

My childhood best friend invites me to Montana in 2020 and we go backpacking for 3 days with his boyfriend and another friend. My legs are smaller than theirs, and my bag is bigger than me. I've hiked a plenty, but not like this. All those practice runs on the stair master did not have me prepared for this moment. 

I did not get good sleep the first night in the tent. I had a terrible dream.

We had met these two campers during dinner out by Gunsight Lake, and when I fell asleep, I was tucked in the corner of the tent, next to my best friend. It felt so real, hearing the campers outside of the tent right next to where I lay, begging me to wake up.

I could only hear the voices, and they were gently asking me to open up the tent, and to let them in. I felt loopy, but I told them no. They applied pressure, and slowly got more aggressive. I stood firm on my no. 

Next thing I know, I am standing in a pitch black dark room, and in front of me, a door is open. I think to myself,

I need to close the door. I can't let them in.

I rush to the door and begin to close it. Just as the door begins to reach contact with the trim, a head blocks it from closing. The face is demonic, and it stares directly at me with a broad smile and wide eyes. His force is overpowering, and he opens the door. They walk in, and the room turns bright red. I realize they are naked, and they are not the campers. The first one grabs me and aggressively demands in the deepest voice, "I said, let me in!"

I wake up screaming and wake up my friends.

So the next day of backpacking ends up being harder than the first. We reach the top of the mountain finally, and begin to descend. We pass a waterfall that was high in elevation, and I feel myself slip on the rocks. My backpack's weight pushes me down and as I try to lift myself up, I slip more. I am terrified, because if I slip any more than this, my body will be rolling off the cliff to the left of me. The waterfall is so loud, my friends can't hear me yell for help. They began to race each other downward, so now they are becoming smaller from my view. I clench onto the wet rock, tears mixing with the falls as I didn't know what else to do. I was fear stricken.

By the grace of God, a friend turned around to look for me. He ran back and pulled me up. I couldn't stop crying. I felt defeated. When we all finally met up again, and arrived at our next campsite, reality hit us that the campsite was closed due to bears and we had to go straight to the next campsite, which was over another mountain, and the sun was setting soon. We were exhausted, and the backpack felt heavier than ever.

We decided to keep going after much detest. We began our next journey up, and not long after, we were hiking in darkness. Our headlamps go on, and all I remember was red. This is primarily because we tried to preserve our lamps by keeping them on the red light, but I couldn't help but think of the dream I just had. I was beyond exhausted. I really couldn't go any further like this.

My best friend's boyfriend really stepped up for me then. We took apart my backpack's compartments. He not only carried his backpack, but parts of mine. We still had to go up, and who knew how much longer until the next site. "Astroworld", an album by Travis Scott played out loud as my feet dragged on.

I remember not liking this album that much before, but every word, beat, and track, pushed me further. I listened to "Stop Trying to be God" for the first time then and I couldn't help but feel so damn humbled. I am pushed at my limit, and if I had given up at any moment, I firmly believed I'd get eaten alive, froze to death, or fell off the cliff.

We stopped again. Sleeping on the cliff seemed like the dreamiest option. I gasp, and urged everyone to look up as the brightest, largest comet I had ever seen in my entire life burst from behind my best friend and cross the entire horizon for what felt like a long minute. Our spirits were filled with determination and we made it to the campsite a few hours after.

I picked up a summer job in Montana the following year and am engulfed in such powerful presence. Nature is profound, and it is beautiful. I find myself alone at Grinnell Lake and I dive in naked. As I dry myself off, I hear a loud splash and turn around to see a large moose diving into the lake at the same spot as me. She stares at me, and I breathe slowly until she disappears across the lake.

I am with a group of friends and we are climbing scree, loose rocks, on the side of the Sinopah mountain. I slip and clench onto whatever I can. I am over 8200ft in elevation wondering what the hell I am even doing. I begin to read a book called "Deaths in Glacier National Park".

It's my day off, so I hike alone again. My childhood best friend is also working in the same valley as me. He tells me to send it to the top of Painted Teepee mountain near our cabin. I decide I have time and do it and make it to the top of Painted Teepee.

I don't have time. I rush down the mountain, phone on less than 15%, forgot my bear spray and headlamp, and my ankle is sensitive from a slip from trying to run down faster. I ignore the ankle and I keep running. I have to make it back. Not this shit again. The sun is completely gone as I pass Rockwell Falls, which is 3.5 miles away from my cabin. I stay focused on the dim trail ahead of me, and my heart beats fast to remind me to keep going.

We are told to do bear calls while hiking to let bears know we are nearby. I went from calling for bears, to calling out to God. I prayed out loud. My breath was loud in between each thing I would say, and I said it loud enough that hopefully the bears could hear it too.

I love you.

I'm sorry.

Please forgive me.

Thank you.

It was almost 11pm when I saw the trees open up to my summer abode beside the lake. I was relieved.

Thank God.

IV.

I float through my 2021 summer job at Glacier National Park feeling magical and quite humbled, and came home at the lowest I had been in the longest time. For months, I felt the threads I held onto in this world rip apart. In my head, I held onto these sharp scissors, and I would snip the threads that attached me to my mom, my dad, my brothers, my dog, and my friends. I scan through my journals and read the words "Lost" and "Alone" on every other page. I am pathetic. Temporary highs are the only things keeping me possibly sane.

I chase these highs, I chase these mountains, these experiences, and then I am left empty, sad, lost. What purpose do I have? I tell myself, and I tell the people around me,

"Well, the purpose is to just exist :)"

I want to believe so bad.

It was early summer of 2022. I sit at the kitchen table alone as my roommate is at work, and I think to myself, she really is the last thread I have left. If I can cut her off, then this will be easy. I begin to plan how to do it, and tell myself to save enough money so she won't have to worry about my side of rent. I care about her so much and I want to protect her. Every time I think of her crying, I find something else to do.

I finally admit to her how bad it's getting. She can't stop crying. I don't know what to do, so I just apologize and don't tell her again. We spend the night laughing, but I know she's sad. I notice her watching me more carefully after that day.

Hurricane season comes, and I rush home to help set up the shutters. My parents yell at me for driving straight into a Category 5, and that my area is being evacuated. I think of my roommate, and don't want her to be alone.

As a Floridian we know that when a Hurricane comes, we party. My roommate and I take out everything. We are on the complete opposite side of sober. We're in the living room as Hurricane Ian comes into our area when our laughter stops. The wind changes from a whistle into a low vibrating hum. Her eyes widen as she stares at me and I know she is terrified, and that I need to be the strong one. Our one loose shutter slams against the door. We peak out of our windows and see purple fill the sky.

The first part passes, and we enjoy ourselves during the eye of the Hurricane by opening up the windows and taking shots of Hennessy. She's in the kitchen and I sit by the window when we suddenly hear three loud knocks. We are silent, staring at each other in confusion.

I say out loud, "Did God just knock on our door?"

And I hear three loud knocks again.

Turns out it was just my neighbor Jameel. He was trying to sneak into our house and party with us, but we tell him to leave us alone just as the second wave of Hurricane Ian arrives. The second wave was worse than the first. We were no longer laughing. It felt as if we both were holding our breaths, fearing that if we made a noise, something bad would happen. Perhaps another shot would calm us down!

The roof rumbled, and every half a minute we heard the wind go from a scream into a low vibrating hum that seemed deeper and more aggressive than the first wave. We coordinated a safe space within the house to go to if the roof flew off, because any minute, it felt like the roof was going to either do that, or crush us. This entire night, I hear myself thinking about God again.

This is the Power of God. This is God. 

I think about my time at Glacier National Park, and on my boat tours I would tell my boat,

"Nature does not care about you. Nature does not wait for you."

My insignificance was evident. If I died, I would be lost within the rubbish. Didn't I want to die? I've spent this entire year contemplating! Yet here I am, LED lights dimming my facial features, fear doing circles in my chest. 

Well, no. I can't die. Not right now! It's not right. I need to survive for my roommate! I need to protect her! She's so scared! I need to be strong! What about my family! They're worried sick! I want to see my dog again! My friends must be worried! Did you know that I'm in love?! I am hopelessly in love and I want to hear from him! I need to know if he's okay! Please make sure everyone is okay! Please protect us. Please protect everyone. Please protect us.

I am safe because God loves me. God is real and he protects me.

I am loved, I am protected, I am safe.

I love you. I'm sorry. Please forgive me. Thank you.

I started praying again. I prayed as I told her we'd be okay. We fell asleep in the same bed and I thanked God for keeping us safe.

I really didn't deserve this grace. Yet, I was safe. We were safe. We woke up the next day and saw the terrible damage all around our neighborhood and the community. We survived a disaster that some people couldn't survive. People lost everything. People had to start over. This truly humbled me whilst make me feel an intense sense of guilt. 

V.

Turns out, the guy I was in love with loved me back. We started dating, and by all means we did not start with a honeymoon phase. We were two independent individuals learning blindly how to heal, rely on each other, and build trust. Our relationship went from a battle of opposing opinions, into a journey together with God. 

He is the key that opens my heart to not only God, but Jesus Christ.

There was a period of our relationship where I thought this would break us.

Grievance brings us closer to our higher source. His pain could not be healed by me. It was my responsibility to stay by his side through his healing. I learned a lot about him, and I learned that he was raised as a Christian. It didn't seem to bother me, because I believed in God at this point.

We went to a fair early in our relationship in March of 2023. We saw this man under his tent passing out little books with smiley faces on it. No one was accepting the books so I went over and accepted one. My boyfriend seemed interested in the guy's words, and I was too, so we went into the tent where the guy, I think his name was Dan, pulls out his bible and begins to preach to us. I was completely unprepared for him to keep us in there for what felt like an hour. I wanted to ride rides, but that's what I get for going into the tent!

So Dan asks us, "Do you believe you will go to Heaven?"

My boyfriend instantly nods and says "Yes".

Dan looks at me and I look around the tent, and then reply, "I guess". 

He finds interest in my boyfriend and asks him another question,

"Why will you go to Heaven?"

What is this, a trick question?!

My boyfriend instantly replies, "Because I believe in the life, teachings, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ".

Huh?! People really believe in this?? How is he saying this so confidently?

Dan loves my boyfriend. I'm sitting in this uncomfortable chair for an hour, there is no fan in this tent and I can barely breathe because it is so hot. I want to ride rides. The fair closes soon. These two guys are bonding over Jesus Christ. I don't want to be rude, but I feel like it's a little rude that this is going for so long! I don't even get tickets out of this!

Dan started to talk about idolatry. He shamed people with Buddha statues in their home, and I thought of my sweet petite adorable mother that fasts for Buddha, plays Buddha chants all night and day, and watches monks talk on her youtube as she buys fruit for her Buddha shrine. Did I mention how cute she is?

I am furious. This is personal to me.

How dare you shame other religions. What makes your religion real and theirs wrong? How dare you! Get me out of here. I don't feel safe. This is stupid! This isn't fair! You guys are talking and I don't get it! Get me out of here!!

Dan can tell that I'm not really listening any more. His attention is focused on my boyfriend and vice versa. I feel like a shadow in the tent. Daniel starts to pray for us, and I try to be present and listen with my heart as open as I possibly can. No promises though.

If I close my eyes , listen, and put my hands together like this, maybe it'll look like it's working for me.

It didn't work. I felt nothing. He gave me a tiny birth certificate and sent us on our way.

My boyfriend and I argued later on about what we heard inside that tent. I was still mad; I mean, my mom's an angel! You're going to tell me, she's going to your hell because she believes in something else? This is complete bull crap!

None of this makes sense to me.

Nothing makes sense to me.

How is everyone doing this and I can't.

I want to! I mean, I think I want to! I'm trying! I've tried! I've tried Buddhism. I love the idea of reincarnation! I wanna give life to flowers and become a dog, sure! I've tried Hinduism. I love enlightenment and I feel so powerfully present when I finish my Yoga with a sound bowl meditation. Every time I try something I just don't believe it like how you guys BELIEVE it. I have no faith.

What is this faith?

VI.

The following month after the fair, my boyfriend and I went to Portland, Oregon, and traveled the coast to northern California. I met up with my childhood best friend and his loving boyfriend. On a random unfamiliar day, something struck me that I didn't expect. We were hanging out, and Jesus Christ came up in the conversation. I retorted, "I don't know why people think he's even real" and my childhood best friend turned and said as a matter-of-factly,

"No. Jesus was real."

Then he turned back around.

My mind blanked out for a second as I was left dumbfounded. This friend, who I've known since freshman year of high school, has never talked about religion. We never had a deep conversation about God or even his beliefs. The only time I even remember talking about a higher source is when we talk about our connection with Nature and energy. Right? I mean, maybe about enlightenment or something, right?

It definitely struck a nerve in me. I don't even remember anything else besides that comment and how he said it.

While on this trip, my boyfriend and I departed from our friends and headed to Redwood National Forest. The trees were enormous, the air smelled fresh, and after a few minutes of adjusting, the trees looked as if they could've been bigger. I was happy nonetheless.

We get to our cabin, which turned out to have no mattress padding. I could tell my boyfriend was disappointed. I was more disappointed that there was no bathroom in our cabin. We set up our sleeping pads and explored the area. We went into this prairie in front of our cabin to get a look at some elks, completely unaware of the signs down the road that told us not to.

The elk were peaceful and magnificent. We sat there for what felt like 20 minutes when we began to notice more elk come from the bushes. Then it hit us within a few minutes, the elk began to surround us. within the following 10 minutes, we were being stared down by a gang of elk, the leader with antlers that could totally hurt us. The fear jumped around in my chest, and my boyfriend squeezed close to me.

He leaned in and whispered to me, "When I tell you to run, run."

I thought,

This guy cannot be serious.

Something in me zapped me back and I shook my head. "No, we stay and we wait it out."

He didn't like the idea, he probably thought that I was being ridiculous when I said that. I was so scared that to be honest, I don't think I could even run! I was shaking, the sun was setting, and it was getting cold. The gang of elk stepped closer towards us and I stared at the leader the entire time. I was hoping he could see through my eyes that we meant no harm. After half an hour of anticipation, the elk decided we weren't dangerous, started to back away, and created an opening for us to walk back to our campground. We walked slowly, while facing them, then we turned and ran.

VII.

I watched my boyfriend get deeper into his faith that summer when he experienced the passing of his father. This would be a pivotal moment.

It was important to support the one I love on his journey with his faith. I wasn't aware that it would mean I had to play a role in it too. I thought I could be on the sidelines, with my sign that says "You're doing great!" and this would be okay! With me not being able to believe, and to fully understand these conversations about Jesus Christ, our relationship became harder to navigate. I  became conscious of the hidden ultimatum, and I wanted to avoid it as much as possible.

I don't wan't to lose him because of this.

Slowly, I heard from him less. When we'd talk, it would be about Jesus Christ. I love him, so I let him tell me about the videos he watched, and when I wasn't around, he was engulfed in these videos about Christ. He was either watching, reading, or listening. I felt jealous of Jesus, and how he was taking my boyfriend away from me.

I just want to have a day where we can focus on something else, please! Why is this so important? Why should our lives revolve around this?

I don't get it!

Months had passed and I could tell that my boyfriend started to distance himself around me. He stopped talking as much, and I knew it was because all he really wanted to talk about, I couldn't hear. He could sense my resentment and my distaste.

VIII.

I met up at the park with him one day to play volleyball with his friends. As light gave space for darkness, we dispersed and I tell my boyfriend that I'm going to visit his father's grave. I know my man has been avoiding the visit, and I have two reasons of going: one for him to feel called to visit his father too; and two, to potentially gain insight on this Jesus Christ ordeal through the omnipresence of his father. 

His father was a faithful man to Christ. He was righteous, understanding, and hilarious. I arrive at the cemetery when the stars peak out and I carefully curate a spot on the grass near his name to sit down. I'm quite nervous, as I don't know if this is even appropriate or the right thing to do. It's also kind of scary and maybe the fourth time I've been to a cemetery; one of those times was to play Pokemon Go.

I awkwardly create conversation that disappears into the air. I'm not expecting a response, but I checked my boyfriend's location earlier and know he's on his way here. I speak to his father, and explain to him that maybe, these questions I ask him can be answered through the voice of his son. Otherwise, I'm not quite sure how I'll understand anything. I don't understand how to believe.

My lover arrives and sits next to me. We ended up sitting and talking for a long time. The evening feels still, as if the world quiets down to hear the words trickle out of our lips. I see my boyfriend's facial features glow in the night. He carefully crafts his words to not trigger my underlying resentment that I have for, I don't know, for something. Is it with God? Jesus?

He thinks for a moment, then asks me,

"Do you hate God, or just the people that believe in God?"

My eyes search the cemetery as if my thoughts are hidden behind the trees. Maybe my answer will show itself.

Human nature.

When I was a child, my mom would lie to my face, and then she would wink. I hated it. She would do it all the time and it was such an obvious lie, a lie not even about anything serious; but the wink sparked fury in my eyebrows and make me clench my teeth.

I would watch her pick up the broken glass from the floor and tell me to go to sleep.

I wake up in the middle of the night to my dad sneaking another teddy bear into my bed. My bed was filled with teddy bears, and this one is a Winnie the Pooh bear. He would get me one every time he wanted to apologize for scaring me, or came home from a night of gambling. I imagined him as a professional at playing the claw machines, thinking only of my love and happiness. I packed the teddy bears in a trash bag one day and threw them all away.

My uncle lifts a kitchen chair up above his head and threatens it towards my cousin who is not even half his size. I think of the time when my uncle stands at the same spot, tying a string around my teeth to pull it.

My principal at one of my many elementary schools loved my friends in 5th grade. He would come to our cafeteria table, pick out the blond ones, make them laugh and got very close to them. He'd pass by me and move to the next table. I reminded myself that it's because I'm Asian, and not as pretty and therefore nobody cares about me. I sit in front of our tiny television with my brother the following year as we see our elementary school's principal on the news for a hidden briefcase found inside of a locked closet that held cut out images of student's faces on grown nude bodies.

The same year, I stared at one of my teachers crying in class while he explained to us the news of one of his former students dying from a stab wound. The kid's name was Kristian, and he was 13 years old.

My parents let my dad's friend take my brother's room, which was right next to mine. The man knocked on my door one day and said he wanted to give me $20. I politely said thank you, hugged him, and suddenly felt him grope me. I didn't want to be rude, but also felt scared. I told my brothers, and one day we went over to my cousin's house. My dad's friend wanted a hug, and I backed away. My mom yelled at me and said to stop being rude. My brothers defended me, to my surprise. They tried to explain to her why I didn't need to hug this man, and she told me to stop overreacting. She apologized to me over a decade later.

In the same house, I came home one day and my oldest brother's room on the opposite side of the floor plan, had a broken window. My parents tell me that a cop was passing by, noticed a strange man scope our house, and break in through my brother's room. The cop went through the broken window and found the stranger on the opposite side of the house, in my room, rummaging through my plastic Walmart drawer of panties. I didn't get to throw the panties away, and my dad didn't have time to go to court and testify.

I'm in high school now, and a guy I no longer talk to befriended my brother and follows him off the school bus to our house. My brother left the house, with the guy still inside, and the guy tries to break into my room. I held the door for five hours straight, texting my friend on my iPod Touch off a free texting app to come help me. My brother came home in the middle of this, and thought I was overreacting when I begged him to get this guy to leave me alone. My brother leaves again. My friend came over after her date and asked her boyfriend's dad, a police officer, to escort the guy out. They found him hiding in my brother's room. My oldest brother was home the entire time, on the opposite side of the house gaming online. I got a phone afterwards.

The same guy would be outside my window over following years of high school, periodically knocking and whispering through the glass at night. My younger brother and my dad would see his figure in the dark run away. 

A guy begs to come over to my apartment and I lock the bedroom door behind me because he won't leave. I fall asleep to him banging on the door all night to let him in.

My friend, a woman I met within the hippie community, invites me to her home to practice her Reiki massage on me privately outside in the lanai. At the end, I stare at a woman that appears in front of me, a mutual friend who is deep within the local hippie and Yoga community, and her eyes feel like two snakes constricting my neck. Her words spit flames on my entire being. Every word she screams is a defamation on my character. I was utterly shocked and confused. Why was she being so angry and mean? What did I do wrong? She accuses me of seducing her ex, who also lives there that I was completely unaware of when I was coming over, and that I am a temptress whore for being there accepting a massage from our friend. Her ex comes flying out of the house and holds her back, and I am advised to leave. I sit in my car in silence, trying to wipe the dirty words off of me. I become very wary of snake eyes, and decide to never trust eyes that looked like snakes.

Behind every tree I see across the cemetery, lingers a memory of fear mixed with disappointment. Things I forgot about, things I don't want to remember. I feel disgusted, angry, and anxious. My eyes race through the trees as more memories resurface and I decide to snap back into reality; into my boyfriend's question again.

"Do you hate God, or just the people that believe in God?"

Do these people even believe in God?

Are these the people that believe in God?

There are plenty of stories of pastors, priests, teachers, gurus, bosses, and relatives getting caught and getting away with abuse. Most often, these people are in a position of seniority with the person abused. You hear it so often, you see it so often, and experience it enough that it's no longer a surprise; it's expected. You go through enough disappointment that you subconsciously become resentful over humanity, and possibly whoever created that. 

I thank God all the time. Throughout all my travels, I've seen the true beauty that God have done to this world. I think. I don't resent him, do I?

IX.

Time passed, and my boyfriend mentions that he started to watch this show "The Chosen" that he loved, and I secretly picked it up and watched it without telling him. It was to be a surprise, something that we could maybe bond through. To my own surprise, I got really into the show myself and had questions I needed to be answered. I asked my boyfriend, and when he realized I was watching the show, and that I was actually into the story about Jesus and his disciples, I felt within an instant that our relationship shifted into something deeper and more meaningful. I wasn't sure what this meant, but I loved this man so much I wanted to understand.

We watched the show together. We bonded through the show, like I had anticipated. Honestly, for the first time ever, I thought of Jesus as a cool guy. I don't think I ever knew who Jesus was until this point. I started reading the New Testament in my roommate's Bible. I realized the one that I bought at Goodwill made no sense because it was the King James version, and not all Bibles were hard to understand. I didn't care about the religion, or the religions. I was curious about Jesus Christ. I wanted to know,

Is this guy the real deal?

Was he a teacher that wanted to be idolized, but in truth, was just a human that is flawed like the rest of us?

A guru seeking pleasure from his students?

Someone that sins and is therefore a hypocrite?

A preacher with a dirty secret?

Everything I grew up with gave me the impression that if you believe in Jesus, you were a homophobic, racist, pedophile that goes to poor countries and forces them to believe in a religion that isn't within their culture. But the actor portraying Jesus Christ in "The Chosen" makes me believe that the real Jesus Christ, the one that apparently did exist, is not only a great man, but the Son of Man.

We got to the end of season 3 and on episode 8, there's this scene of a rabbi and a man that just witnessed Jesus feed thousands. The man leaving the sermon tells the rabbi about the miracle, and the rabbi is furious that Jesus would eat with anyone that wasn't Jewish. The man walks away and says,

"I tell them God performed a miracle and they say, 'But He ate with the wrong people'".

We jumped from the bed in excitement. I couldn't get over this Jesus guy! I'd hear about Jesus, I'd see people dressed as Jesus, but I could never understand this Jesus. I'm not only starting to understand, but I want to believe that he is true. Do I believe he is true? How do I do that?

I left my boyfriend's house that evening conflicted.

X.

My phone was set to my "Throwbacks" playlist, of over 500 songs curated by moi. I get on the highway and can't stop thinking about the show.

"Because you have seen me, you have believed. Blessed are those who have not seen, and have believed."

-John 20:28-29

I mean, I haven't seen Jesus Christ. I haven't seen God.

Over the years though, have I felt God? Have I been saved?

So many of my experiences, the situations my naivety had put me through, was saved by something I can only pinpoint as God.

I must be so lucky.

I am incredibly blessed. 

I want to believe so bad. I feel guilty for not knowing how to. What exactly keeps me from believing? What makes me resist? Where is the YouTube tutorial on how to just, believe?

People talk about miracles. People experience something so magical, that the only answer is Jesus. There's no doubt in their soul. All I ever do is doubt everything. If I trust, I leave disappointed! How can I trust in what I have not yet seen?

But I have seen. Haven't I?

I sheepishly begin to talk out loud in my car to God. I'm only used to doing this in desperate situations. Maybe this is a desperate situation.

"God. Hi. I don't know what to do. This is kinda awkward.

How are you?

I believe in you, you know. I do.

But everyone believes in this Jesus Christ, and honestly, I would like to. I just don't really know how. He sounds too good to be true? And what does that mean if he is true?

I know asking for a miracle is kind of silly, sorry. I don't even know if I can do that. 

I want to ask for one anyways, if that's okay.

I'll make it easy. See, this song on my playlist is about to end. So for the next song that plays, if it mentions the word God even once, I'll believe in Jesus Christ. I'll do it. That's all I ask, please.

Thank you."

I keep on driving, with my lips pursed out in curiosity. If my boyfriend gets a miracle, who says I can't?! 

The thing about my request is that, I made this playlist. I know practically every song on the playlist and I couldn't think of any song that could possibly say the word "God". We have Britney Spears, Ciara, Maroon 5, Lady Gaga, The Pussycat Dolls, All American Rejects, but I don't know about God!

The song ends and the next song instantly fades in. The robotic voices of Daft Punk starts to play the lyrics of "Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger". It's a sample, the beat comes in and I hear Kanye West's voice begin to rap to the song "Stronger". I am delighted, because this morning as I scrubbed toothpaste onto my teeth, I was humming to Daft Punk's "Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger" to which my boyfriend interjected my humming with Kanye West's "Stronger" version. We were dancing in the bathroom, and throughout the rest of the day, I couldn't get this song out of my head. I figured I'd have to play it at some point.

I was pretty excited because of this,

But that wasn't what I asked for. I asked for a song that mentions "God", and this song doesn't talk about God.

As I think this in disappointment, I hear Kanye say it.

"If God put me in your plans or not"

My mouth is ajar. Do I not know the lyrics like I thought I did?

"But I know that God put you in front of me"

My eyes are wide. I cannot believe it. He said it twice, back to back. This can't be serious. I grab my phone to replay the song. I let it replay 5 more times. I am laughing at myself, because I am suddenly in a predicament.

This is a coincidence, that's all it is!

Not a miracle, but a coincidence!

I get to my exit off the highway and call my boyfriend. I can't stop smiling, because I just know how he'll react. I give him the rundown: the prayer, the request, the song, the toothpaste, the shock. As I begin to tell him the lyrics, he reads them out for me in excitement. As I was telling the story, he was already pulling up the lyrics to see if he could find the word "God". He wanted to know the ending of my story before I finished it!

It was crazy. I told him I had to think on it, that it had to be a coincidence.

I feel like I just lost a bet, in a way.

But I knew all my songs, right? I knew that the mass majority did not mention God, right?

I was about to deny the possibility of the miracle, when the quote from the show "The Chosen" season 3 episode 8 plays in my head:

"I tell them God performed a miracle and they say, 'But He ate with the wrong people'".

So I asked God for a miracle and then I say, well that was just a coincidence!

Two days later, I chose to believe in Jesus Christ.

XI.

I dabbled with doubt a lot, but since the day I made that choice, I witnessed things that felt less like coincidences, and more like tiny miracles. I chose to believe, yet the process of believing came slowly through more conversations, studies, and experiences. This wasn't just a moment; I became committed.

My roommate joined in on the festivities and would discuss bible verses with me. She expresses gratitude for my boyfriend's devotion bringing God into our lives and tells me,

"For where two or three gather in my name, there am I with them.”

-Matthew 18:20.

I laid on the couch with my roommate one evening and she starts to giggle. She turns to me to crack a joke and says,

"I'm Mary, of course I have anxiety."

I look at her and laugh, understanding her reference of the joke. She does it again.

"I'm Mary, of course I'm always freaking out!"

Okay, really?

"I'm Mary, of course I can't do anything without being anxious!"

It was funny at the moment, but now it felt like an epiphany.

I asked her, "Am I really always anxious?" And she stares at me with her telling eyes, then laughs again.

January 24, 2024, while reading Luke in my NIV Bible, I read an excerpt about demons interacting with humans. One of the example says "they can cause mental disorders". It rings in my head, and I ask every person that passes me by the same question: "Do you think mental disorders are demonic?"

As I leave my gym, I ask the guy at the desk with the cross on his neck the same question, and listen to him tell me his story of depression, and how he was able to rebuke it by giving in to Christ.

I went over to my boyfriend's home and ask him the same thing, and we talk the night away about demons. Since he's known me, I've always said "I have bad anxiety" and "I have social anxiety".

He tells me how for as long as he's known me, I've said this, and that he thinks that it's complete bull crap. Apparently, I'm the most social person he knows.

I wake up the next morning and stare at myself in the mirror, conflicted. All my panic attacks, my fear, doubt, sadness, and anxiety, felt different. I imagined a demon named "Anxiety" on my shoulder, claws buried into my collarbones. I hear its whispers that sound just like my own thoughts. I think of all my lucid nightmares with demons hiding in the corners of the room; the constant tailing of a demon within my footsteps.

When I started dating my boyfriend, I woke up in his room once and called him afraid of the demon in his room. He begged me to wear his wooden cross, even though I told him it was just sleep paralysis. He knows I don't believe, but he wants me to trust him. I trust him, and fall asleep with the cross around me.

When did I become so anxious? When did it get this bad?

I don't remember.

It just suddenly happened, and I couldn't stop saying it. I became attached to Anxiety. I was Anxiety, and Anxiety was me. We go hand and hand now. I really couldn't do anything without Anxiety.

I don't want to live this way.

I took a deep breath and say aloud, "Anxiety, I rebuke you. Get behind me, I do not know you."

I felt a wave of relief and tears running down my cheeks.

Now, whenever I recognize Anxiety entering my body, I mutter "Rebuked" and don't feel it again.

XII.

This particular job I had was in an unhealthy environment. To survive in this type of workplace, I would always say that you needed to separate yourself as much as possible; and be extremely disciplined in doing so, otherwise you will lose yourself.

Every day I sat there with my Bible out studying, and curious people would join in for some banter. My managers would ask me questions about what parables I read while at work. Parables I've read, would become exactly what I needed to read to get through obstacles in my life. My problems never went away after I made the choice, but for some reason, I could handle them better.

One day, a girl I know walks up to my spot and spat out words drizzled in anger, asking me how dare I read a book that hates women and calls us unclean. She was disgusted. It felt familiar.

She mentions something from Leviticus, and I ask her, "Is that in the New Testament? I'm only interested in the Gospel and Jesus Christ at this moment. I don't really have a say in that yet."

She says yes and storms off on me before I can ask her any more questions. I found out later that whatever she referred to was in the Old Testament.

I see her linger quietly one day while I speak with my two managers about religion.

Months later, I speak to a regular that's questioning me about my progress in the Bible, and she comes out to listen. My coworker is Christian and guides me weekly through my questions that I have when I can't ask my boyfriend. I find out that my coworker has been guiding her through some questions as well.

6 months later after the original encounter, I watch her clock in, and on her neck laid a delicate gold cross.

XIII.

I got into an argument with my mom. She showed me a video online of this monk named Thich Minh Tue that's going viral for devoting himself to Buddhism through Dhutanga — a set of 13 austere practices aimed at achieving non-self (Anatta) and relinquishing all worldly attachments. He walks barefoot with just his clothes and a rice cooker. He prays for the world, and practices becoming free from greed and suffering. She says he is a prophet, and I watch clips of crowds following him.

I ask her, "Does he perform any miracles?" She says no.

I ask her, "Is he more than a man?" She says no, eyes glued to the screen that displays him.

I furrow my eyebrows and ask her, "So why are people worshipping him?"

She gets mad at me, but I'm not trying to fight. I want to know.

I ask her, "Do you know about Jesus Christ?"

She scoffs and replies, "I am not doing this with you."

Of course.

I've never talked about this to her before. I want to tell her the good news, but I can't find the right words in Vietnamese. I want her to hear about the miracles from the man that claims to be the Son of Man. She ignores me.

I leave and spend the night reading about Buddhism.

A few months later, we are at the kitchen table when I ask her about the monk. She gives me an update. I tell her a story about God's son that came to save us, and what people did to him. I describe Heaven and how I want her there. I explain it the best that I can in translation. She is patient with me as I stutter and repeat myself. She tells me about reincarnation.

She listens, and I listen.

XIV.

It is nighttime. My boyfriend and I find our way to Rome, Italy, November of 2024. We were cranky, hungry, and more than anything, extremely excited! I am stepping foot into one of the oldest continuously occupied cities in Europe that has history spanning 28 centuries, dates around 752 BC, and is one of the major centers of the Renaissance!

The weather app tells us that it will be cloudy, possibly rainy, the entire trip from Italy to Germany. The sky kisses us with effervescent blue our entire time there. It is a breath of fresh air.

Germany was the complete opposite, full of raging icy winds and rain, but at that point we couldn't even complain. This trip was miraculous. I felt closer to my lover, and closer to Jesus Christ.

Throughout our trip, we explore museums, cathedrals, buildings and learn about the blend of Roman history and Christian/Catholic history. My mouth stays ajar as I enter another building filled with historical, religious art. Michelangelo's work is even better in person. I fall in love with the work of more artists; some with unknown names.

These places, these paintings, these statues, the work that gets put into all of these things feel surreal. How does one dedicate their entire lives into these artifacts? The work that you see embellishes the history of Christ with such passion, such faith in each detail. I am surrounded by Christ. I am filled with passion, with faith.

Time feels incredibly slower here, yet I struggle for more time as we battle with Daylight Savings ending. We walk through the Piazzas, observing the Roman statues next to the churches. You witness the transition from Roman Gods, into praise of the Apostles, of Mother Mary, of Jesus Christ. I am fascinated, yet left with more questions. I become observant towards the transitions of design of worship as we transition from Rome to Florence. The difference is uncanny.

Near the Capitoline Hill, my boyfriend and I took these narrow steps down to the Mamertine Prison's tiny dungeon. This is where they held the Apostle Paul temporarily. We were right there. I learned about Paul and his story as Saul.

A man that killed the Christians, died for Christ.

His story pulls me closer, and I stare at the walls of the dungeon, unable to stop thinking about how real this all felt in this small space.

He was right here? 

XV.

As I write this, it is December 15th, 2024 and it has been a little over a year since I've accepted Jesus Christ into my heart. It is a process, but after much deliberation, I feel ever more confident that I believe in the life, teachings, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ.

I am not perfect, and that is because I am human.

I've spent my life searching for what was good. My innocence dulled from life's trails and disappointments. I grew bitter and resentful, accepting that there was too much evil in the world, and in people.

There cannot be evil without good, and I choose to be good.

I must work on myself every day to be good. Even if I became the best version of myself, I know that the best version of myself cannot surmount to Jesus Christ himself, and that, in a way, brings me relief.

I battle with myself about the Kingdom of Heaven, and the branches of religion. I don't want to be put in a category, or worship anyone else.

There is much to learn.

I am learning how to care more about where I go after here. What comes after death.

To let go of this lingering pessimism inside of me and replace it with faith.

To recognize the ways that I sin, to be better, and give myself some grace.

To forgive others for their trespasses.

To love my partner, my family, my friends, and the world, through God.

Amen.

:)

XVI.