Photo by Thaï Ch. Hamelin / ChokdiDesign
This is a 2-part personal essay where I share my experience with the Merciful God. During a stressful time in my life, I decided to surrender myself completely to God, not out of holiness, but because I didn't know what else to do. Letting go of my desires and fears brought a sense of peace and calm I had never experienced. The burden became easy to carry. I hope that my experience can inspire you to also put your trust in Him.
What does Total Surrender mean to you? Share your thoughts and experiences in the comments here. I would love to hear from you!
Anyone who has experienced a personal encounter with God knows that you can't put it into words. How to describe the indescribable? Knowing that I'm bound to fail, I've decided to share my experience here, hoping that you, my dear reader, will get some value out of it. For what is faith if not a defiant act against all odds?
My encounter with the divine wasn't in the form of a bright vision, an apocalyptic dream, or a stroke of a miracle. Far from it! It was more like a gentle yet decisive force directing my life and changing the course of it, despite my great efforts to carry out my own will. It was like a warm feeling of peace amid moments of great suffering. Like a comforting embrace in the middle of the chaos. Above all, it was the love and reassurance I felt when alone in the company of my tears.
To tell you this story, I need to start from the beginning…
I grew up in Brazil, one of the world's largest Catholic countries. My childhood memories are filled with the earthy and smoky scent of church incense, the drumming of tropical rain over the roof, and the pearls of roses adorning the altar at Mary's coronation. Perhaps my most treasured memory is the inconspicuous discussions I would have with my father about religion, faith, and spirituality.
My father was not a Catholic, but a believer in the doctrine of Spiritism, which asserts the survival of spirits after the death of the body, and the possibility of communicating with them - either casually or deliberately, through evocations or spontaneously. Spiritualists also believe in reincarnation, the cycle by which a spirit supposedly returns to material existence after the death of the body.
Since a young age, I never bought the idea of reincarnation, as it takes away the beauty of my individuality and uniqueness. To me, reincarnation sounds like an entrapment, with souls being constantly recycled into brand-new bodies. Intuitively, I always perceived life as a precious one-time gift, given to me by a Creator, to be treasured and taken care of. As such, I am to strive to be my best in this lifetime, how long or short that might be.
Despite not subscribing to my father's religion, I admired his deep sense of spirituality and his strong moral values. I contrasted that with my Catholic mother, whose pride obfuscated her prayers and charitable deeds. I felt a sincere and deep desire to connect with God, but I could not reconcile the Christian faith with my observations of my mother's behavior. My mother's pious and authoritative faith conflicted with my belief in a merciful God. And so, I would seek console and discernment in conversations with my non-Catholic, yet deeply spiritual father.
As I grew up, and to get away from my mother's authoritative God of justice, I ended up in a place too close to relativism, believing that knowledge, truth, and morality are not absolute, but related to cultural, societal, or historical context. That is a dangerous place to be, not only for the sake of religion but also for one's own sanity. For if there is no objective truth, then there is no point in trying to discover it. If everything is subjective, then there is no way to hold one accountable for one's actions.
It wasn't until I came to the US, as a graduate student, that my path started to change and a dim light started to glow. My yearning for God was genuine, but I was an empty vase filling my soul with the distractions of life and a pseudo-spirituality that could be molded to fit my own desires and opinions.
There is something about living in a different country for the first time that drives us closer to God. Perhaps being away from family and friends and trying to adjust to a new culture makes us more vulnerable, so we seek help and guidance from a higher being. Whatever it is, I found myself walking into a church near the International House in Berkeley, California, on a few weekends, and then quite often. Many years later, someone told me that it was an Anglican church, but whatever Christian denomination, the smell of incense transported my mind and soul back to my Catholic roots in Brazil. Looking back, I think that is how it all started: my journey to true Faith, inside a small church in Berkeley with the scent of incense impregnating the air.
TO BE CONTINUED…
Looking forward to future installments!