The Lost Sheep

I was there, among the others who were flocking the chapel that hour. It's Ash Wednesday so everyone intended to have a cross sign on their foreheads, like as if it would give them a ticket to hell if they fail to do so.

If you would ask me why I was really there, you would probably be surprised to find out that I don't really know either. For weeks, maybe even longer, I haven't been praying. I go to church, I listen to the gospel, I get to eat the Body of Christ and yet I just know that something's missing. I no longer think of God the way I thought of Him before. I'd like to blame myself for entertaining the probability that there's no God after all these time. Maybe we are just being made to believe that there's a place called heaven where angels and a supreme being live and that there's hell where people who do evil stuff would be burned forever after judgement day.

I get scared at times. Is my questioning of His existence the reason why my life is going crazy right now? Am I being punished for doubting Him?

While at the chapel earlier, I found myself shedding tears before and after I had the holy communion. I couldn't help it. They say, when you are not saying anything to Him, He would be the one to tell you what He wants to say to you. And the whole time, I forced myself to focus, to think of nothing but my relationship with Him. And the more I thought of Him, the more I realized how worse I have become. I find myself already half eaten by anger. And I thought of my mom who tirelessly tells me to forgive everyone who has done me wrong and stay humble. I thought about all the people I've hurt because I am just so mad. I thought of myself, how much I have screwed things up, how I have let go of almost everything just because I am tired, confused and bitter.

I thought about everything and I only wanted to cry. Thank the heavens there were lots of people in there. Still, I felt like exploding in pain. I wanted to let it all out. I felt like I needed to burst out just to calm the storm inside me. Yet I didn't.

I stared at the bronze imitation of Christ nailed on the wooden cross at the chapel, I tried to be in my most spiritually sensitive state. I found it hard to even listen to Him, it used to be easy for me. The fact that I already find it difficult to pray is proof enough that I have gone so far away from His flock.. That I have been terribly bad, that I have been lost.

And as I stared at the figure of the man whom I dreamed of being married to before, I let a few tears slide down my face. It was relieving. Ignoring the remaining people inside the chapel, I prayed, " Just let me believe in You, the way I do before.."

I stayed for a few more moments, and when I went out.. I have nothing in my heart but hope. Hope that everything will be fine, because He's real, and He'll never forsake me.. I JUST HAVE TO BELIEVE.