Have you ever been afraid of sharing your faith with others? I have. When I was in fourth grade, my family and I were the only Christians in our neighborhood.
I belong to a small church which used to meet all of my preferences. But now, five years and many unforeseeable changes later, our numbers are dwindling.
I don’t see, hear, or feel God anymore. Why love God then? Why go to church then? Why believe then? Recently, a friend whom I had led to Christ seemed to have such thoughts. And they were the same thoughts that went through my mind about a decade ago.
I am surrounded by giving people. Their tireless generosity is inspiring to me, and I want to emulate their giving spirit.
One and a half years ago, I stepped into Harvard University as a bright-eyed graduate student in physics. My first few months were some of the most eventful moments in my life.
A couple of days ago, I went to the park in a T-shirt, shorts, and sandals. It was 80 degrees Fahrenheit (about 27 degrees Celsius) outside and felt absolutely nothing like Christmas. In most parts of the United States, it’s cold—maybe even snowing.
On 20 August 2011, eight days after my 26th birthday, I was nearly killed in a car accident. That Saturday morning, I was driving around the outskirts of my hometown, Ipoh, Malaysia, with a colleague.