I glanced across the hall. There were hundreds of people, all from different states across Malaysia, gathered together for the annual convention organized by my church.
When I was a much younger Christian, I was taught that feelings were unreliable.
My chest is tight, my palms are sweaty, I can barely hold back my tears. I’m an emotional mess. I’m undone in this place of prayer. I struggle to find the words I need—but I know He knows.
It was at a Christian retreat where I first learned about quiet time. An older Christian gave me a devotional book, which taught me how to spend time every day building my relationship with God.
During dinner some days ago, my father lamented about how times have changed. It used to be that bosses care about their workers even outside of work.