A simple favour. Requested by my parents, to my sister, on behalf of me. Something small that wouldn’t take too much of her time, or effort, or anything at all – definitely within her convenience. Something that would help me alot without being much of a problem to her.
I listened from upstairs as my parents spoke to her. Her reluctance was obvious, and out came various excuses and attempts to worm her way out. My dad was obviously reigning in his anger with her, at one point his volume went up. I knew she was reluctant because it is me. Because that’s just the way she treats me. Nice when she requires stuff from me. It was just last week that I told her she didn’t need to replace my property that she had broke while using, without my permission. Yet when I make a request, it’ll be met with an instant disagreement. She won’t even bring something downstairs for me when she’s headed down. That’s why I don’t even make requests to her anymore – my parents do it for me when it’s something important.
But that’s not the point. I have learnt coping mechanisms and ways of making myself scarce, and it doesn’t usually bother me too much. Yet today, I feel so downcast in my soul, because this incident really adds on to all the burdens that have been weighing me down in the past week. The thing is, my sis is 5 years older than me, and a church leader as well. She holds a post in church that is to be respected, and many youths look up to her, and learn from her. I sometimes hear church friends telling me of what a great person she is – and I can only smile weakly, for only I know the truth that could entirely ruin her reputation. Years ago, in rage I typed out a letter to her to tell her blatantly what a hypocrite I felt she was. But it wasn’t right with my conscience to deliver it, so I never did. At that time, I thought that if this was the life of a church leader at home, I wonder about the other leaders in church too. I wanted to quit church.
And now a similar kind of feeling is returning. This merely adds fuel to the fire that has been burning inside of me. Or perhaps fire is a wrong metaphor, because it is more like an emptiness. I have been seeking and searching and trying to know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, who God really is and what He really wants of me. It stemmed from learning about false prophets and increasingly discovering that not every single thing I learnt in church may be right. I watched videos of exposed false prophets who caused people to be ‘slained’, believe they are healed, speak in tongues, and give their money believing that they will be blessed, while behind the scenes, the false prophet (who, by the way, does not even believe in God) happily pockets it. The church scenes looked stunningly familiar as those I witness. Increasingly I find that my view of God and Christianity is distorted, and I don’t know if everything is an emotional hype. It is hard for me to distinguish God’s voice from my voice, God’s word from my thoughts, God’s presence from my emotions.
And so I’m searching again, learning that organised religion may not be everything good, and striving to discover God for who He really is, beyond the rituals of singing songs, giving tithes, speaking in tongues and smiling in church. I have questions like “why does God not heal amputees” building up inside of me, and I am confused. I can tell you for sure I am absolutely certain there is a God – but I’m just not sure that the way the church is today is the way that pleases Him. I don’t want any more emotional hypes as we sing exciting or emotionally-stirring songs, don’t want to hear that I’m going to hell if I don’t give 10% of my income, don’t want to blabber out syllabi in the intensity of corporate prayer while wondering if anyone in Heaven actually understands what I am saying. It’s not that I’m against worship or tithes or tongues or anything like that. I just need to know they are real, for me, and not my emotions playing tricks on me.
And then there comes my sister. For someone who’s been in church since young, served for years and years mentoring others, taken on important church positions, responded to altar calls, prayed for many, and gained the respect of many as a mature Christian to turn to, I find it rather odd that she does not seem to possess an ounce of love when at home. It makes me wonder whether church is but a Sunday feel-good facade.
I’m lost.