Each Sunday that goes by without a mention of racial justice, with no acknowledgment of the deep pain that is rocking our nation and affecting believers and nonbelievers alike, makes me wonder why the Church is not at the forefront of advocating for justice.
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How can we be happy knowing that our loved ones are suffering? We struggle with guilt and ask ourselves: Have I not been earnest enough in sharing the gospel with them? Is it because I haven’t been praying for them consistently? Could I have been a better testimony at home?
It all started when I had a fight with my boyfriend.
In spite of the COVID-19 social restrictions, he had gone to play futsal with his buddies in an enclosed stadium—without a mask on! I got really angry with him for being so careless and forbade him from seeing me for two full weeks.
My speed unintentionally suggests to those around me, “Let’s get this over with because I have things to do.” And I wish I could say that walking fast is the only way I’ve communicated to others that they are not as important as my schedule…
As the world adjusts to a “new normal”, I’ve awakened to the realization that COVID-19 has incubated a “new normal” of a different kind within me—one I’m not sure I should get used to.
Over the last nine years, I’ve had two failed relationships, which came about through a mix of unforeseen circumstances and poor decisions. Though they may not be comparable to others’ experiences, they were painful, took a toll on my mental health, and affected my view of love for a short time. But by God’s grace, they have not completely shattered my view of love.
Growing up in a Christian household, mental health wasn’t something that was talked about at all. Sure, we would go to the doctor if we were physically sick, but when it came to the mental side of things, well, why would one need to see a psychologist if we had God with us?
After five months, I finally went back to church last week. I had expected it to be an emotional event for me, but I have to confess—it wasn’t, really.
My entire life, I have been trained to aim for financial security. “You’re saving for an emergency,” my parents would say—which of course made no sense to me at the time. Now, though, is a different story.
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