“God told me to…”
All my life as a Christian, I’ve heard people around me use those words. People I looked up to would recount testimonies of how God had dramatically changed the course of their lives through an audible voice.
Early this year, someone new joined the small church that I attend. He identified himself as a Singaporean working in the United States, temporarily sent back to Singapore for a work project.
I lay face down on my bed, soaking my pillow with tears. Crickets chirped and whirred, cloaked in the darkness outside my window. I drew the warm blanket over my head, wanting to keep the world out.
Someone recently wrote “#holy” on my dorm room door. I live in a dorm at a Christian college and facilitate a weekly Bible study on my floor, so this innovative hashtag made me smile. It also brought to mind a question I have been wrestling with for the past several weeks.
Ten years ago, I rejected the doctrine of the Trinity. I grew up with the concept that there is one God who eternally exists in three distinct persons: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.