Childhood Relationship

My father was a devout Christians, but everyone else in the family was either a nihilist or a fatalist, and the optimist was an agnostic. The family preferred social climate is ambivalence, and I thrived in ambiguity. The uncertainty of not knowing if I will ever meet my father and whether we will be homeless tomorrow are things on my mind but never insinuated verbally or by posture. If there was a God, He must be on His heavenly throne, looking away from my insignificant life. My mother’s struggle was not for survival, it was for hope; she never said what she was hoping for but I could sense her mind was not in the present.

“That at that time ye were without Christ, being aliens from the commonwealth of Israel, and strangers from the covenants of promise, having no hope, and without God in the world” (Eph 2:12). My mom believed we were not favored by the gods, and my father’s God has taken him away from us. I resented my father for leaving my mom to raise the children by herself. I resented my mom for speaking so highly of my father, even though she knew there was not a shred of evidence that he cared. I believed that God did not meddle with human affairs and all the other gods were our wishful inventions.

“Howbeit then, when ye knew not God, ye did service unto them which by nature are no gods” (Gal 4:8). We had in the house was a white statue of Buddha in a glass box, incenses burned for her every evening. These were acts of piety, none of us ever prayed to Buddha, we knew no deity cared, we were on our own. When God saved me, I wrestled with the idea of a personal God. “Fear thou not; for I am with thee: be not dismayed; for I am thy God” (Isa 41:10). This passage was foreign, why would God care? Why would He help? I have been groomed to survive, I must face life on my own. When I read, “I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee” (Heb 13:5) for the first time, I heard the promise of a Father’s eternal presence.

My mom’s love for me was pure and her sacrifice was undeniable, yet at times, I sensed her obligatory duty; the ethos of moral duty was inculcated in deep in my psyche. The death of Jesus on the cross for me was beyond comprehension, “But God commendeth his love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us” (Rom 5:8). He was not obliged to die for me, I could not fathom this love Jesus had for sinners. When I finally met my father, the hope that did not have a subject, now cumulated in a person, my dad. That hope quickly deteriorated in the first month we lived with him. In contrast, my Savior’s love was not predicated on my response; though it was my sin that nailed Him to the tree, His resurrection proved His unconditional love; when He asked Peter, the same one who denied Him, “Do you love me” (John 21:15-17)? I came from a place of self-sufficiency, the strength of my ability was my value. The gospel gives a different reality, God’s grace, “For by grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God” (Eph 2:8). God doesn’t need me to be pious and righteous. Jesus’ love draws me and I will seek Him whom my soul loves (Jer 31:3; Song 3:1).