Faith is hard

There’s a falsity that many people in the world have. It’s something I’ve been told often.

Faith is easy. It’s the road most traveled and so on.

As I tell those that say those things, faith isn’t easy. I don’t believe it’s meant to be.

You couldn’t tell it by looking at me, but I come from a primarily Hispanic family. I also have Native American, British, Irish, and a bit of German mixed in. But most of my family has definite traits of the Hispanic side.

With that, I was introduced to God at a young age. Most of the family was Catholic.

The family tried to make Catholicism stick with me, but it didn’t. I was that kid that would get dropped off at catechism, take the money for that class and wait for my sister and brother-in-law to leave. Then I’d go to the Waffle House next door to the church and drink way too much soda.

One of the things in my young mind was the confusion that God was called “Father.”

I don’t have many memories of my biological father but what I did know of him at that time was the smell of stale cigarettes, whiskey, and the fact that he wanted to kill us.

The last part landed us in North Carolina after my sister came and took us out of New Mexico after his last attempt.

So, something being called “Father” didn’t sit well with me. Throw into that mix people saying it was a loving God made no sense to me.

When it came to when confession came in, I remember being honest about the things I’d done. And come on, how much can a 6 or 7-year-old really do? But the priest said some pretty harsh things, then gave me the prayers I had to say to be forgiven.

At that point, I was already battling self-worth issues, and being judged by a priest that didn’t even know my name made me think that this God people spoke of must not be that great.

Fast forward 9 to 10 years, and I’d begun having a change of heart. My sister and brother-in-law had taken me out of the environment I was in and put me in one that was safe and loving.

It was confusing, and I wasn’t an easy kid. No kid that experienced the things I did would be. It was the polar opposite from what I understood.

But by that time, a few years had passed, and the meaning of “father” came to have a different definition.

My sister was and is one of the most faith-filled people I know. As was her nature, she worked for a ministry. This one helped ex-convicts find work, housing, and such.

While she was at work in this ministry, an escaped convict came in and violently attacked her. I won’t go into the details of that because it isn’t my story to tell.

I can say that we nearly lost her, and she continues to deal with the physical and emotional trauma of that event to this day. That ministry also did everything they could to not help her.

But her faith didn’t waver. That confused me.

My edging toward faith at that time completely reversed. The anger, pain, hate, and everything else from my life began to manifest in ways that pushed every boundary there was.

I was hurting my family and myself.

But in a rare moment of clarity, one day, while walking by military recruiter offices, I made a decision.

My family had quite a few Marines in it, so I walked into the Marine Corps recruitment office and was told to leave. They were too busy.

I walked out feeling quite dejected. Next door was the Army recruiting office. The Staff Sergeant from there was outside, leaning against the wall smoking a cigarette.

I bummed a cigarette from him, and we started talking. I told him what happened, and he asked if I’d taken the ASVAB, or Armed Services Vocational Aptitude Battery test. I told him I was pretty sure I’d taken it at school, so we went inside, and I sat in the chair across from his desk. He pulled my test scores up, called the other person in the office over then they asked what I wanted to do.

There’s a point to this, I promise. Hang with me.

I didn’t really know what they meant and told them so. I thought the military told you what to do, not the other way around. Don’t worry, they still tell you what to do.

But I found out later that I had scored extremely high on the test, and because of that, I could pick what I wanted. My only request was to be posted near a beach.

I go through basic, and a few other things, then get stationed in California to learn Russian.

I’m out at a club with some of the guys from the base and meet a girl.

There will be another blog covering that relationship, but I was taken with her from the moment we first saw each other. It was like something out of a cheesy romance movie.

The relationship grew, and I don’t know that I’d ever been happier. The thing was that she was a very devout Christian. I wasn’t.

But she was patient. She knew my past and didn’t hold it against me. She pulled me back every time I tried to push her away. She listened to my thoughts on faith and educated me on what faith was. She held my hand, knowing I was scared when I went to church with her the first time.

Then we found out she was pregnant. While scared, I was thrilled.

My family and I had started to try to mend the damage I’d caused, and I was planning to bring them with me the next Christmas to surprise my family.

But while away, I got informed that they were killed in a car accident.

My reversion into darkness was worse than it had ever been. I cursed the God those that loved me so often talked about.

I lived my life either numbing the pain with alcohol or making sure that others felt my pain, or finding ways to manifest the pain I felt inside in a physical sense.

I wanted to die.

Friends tried to help, but I pushed them away. The healthy parts of my family were pushed to the point of them telling me to never contact them again.

It all fit in with how I was feeling, I let it feed everything inside me.

Move forward years later, and I was still doing harmful things, but I’d also started to try and straighten up a bit. My family and I were getting better, but it was still strained.

One night, I’m driving on the highway and had to pull over because my car was acting up. I decided to close my eyes after turning on the emergency flashers, and I woke up to headlights, a horrible shrieking of metal and plastic being crushed and broken as a semi ran over my car.

All I could think to do was put my seat back as far as I could, and the next thing I knew, I’m waking up in the hospital.

This next part I’ve never talked about.

The first time the nurse asked if they could call someone because they didn’t think I’d make it, I was actually happy. My years-long search for death was finally coming to fruition, and I would be able to see my girl and son again.

The next time they woke me, I was mad. Just let me die, I kept thinking.

But this time, after the anger subsided, I heard something inside me telling me that it wasn’t my time yet. There were still things left to do. I was baffled and passed back out.

Now we’re back at the part I talk about.

I woke up again, and the nurse was really insisting I give her a phone number to call because I probably wouldn’t make it. I asked her what time it was, and it was close to 4:00am. I told her to let God worry about me, and I’d worry about when to wake my family up. I passed out again.

After a few months of time spent in hospitals, surgery, and a whole lot of titanium later, I beat the odds. I broke my back and neck but was alive, walking, talking, and still making people scratch their heads.

But I was still confused about faith. I’d come to accept that there was a God, but I wasn’t ready to give myself to Him. I was still dealing with things done to me, to people I loved, anger from loss, and much more.

Fast forward a few years, and I’m living in Las Vegas. The recession of the early 2000’s hits, the company I’m working for goes out of business, and I’m back to being broke, hungry, and confused. My family offered help, but I said no. I was going to find a way out of this.

After a while, I took a job on a cruise ship. It was here that things changed.

My sister bought me a bible before I left. I’d read it before but never really read it.

I spent a lot of time at the beginning of the job alone. I’d stare out at the ocean, read the bible, listen to music and everything that I’d been holding in began coming to the surface.

I challenged God in every way that I could. Yet as I opened myself to this, I was always answered.

I’m not saying God came down, sat next to me, and we hashed it out. That would have been great, but the answers came in various other ways.

Many were answered in The Bible. Others through internal dialog and understanding. Then there were times complete strangers would be led to talk to me.

For the first time in a very long time, I began to feel content and happy.

It was on that ship with just the ocean, me, and God that I turned my life over to Him. And it’s a decision I’ve never regretted.

It isn’t to say that it doesn’t come with challenges. If you remember, I said faith isn’t easy.

I’d spend time in churches and witness people who say they believe doing things they definitely shouldn’t do.

This was when I came to understand that religion and faith are 2 very different things.

My faith is rooted in my relationship and belief in God.

Religion is built by people and thus comes with the flaws of people. While it should be rooted in God, many times, it’s rooted in those who say they speak for God.

It isn’t all churches but far too many. But finding a community in faith is vital.

I’m a firm believer in Matthew 18:20 For where two or three are gathered together in my name, I am there among them.

We are seeing that happen more and more today.

Then there’s the whitewashed, sterile version of faith many try to push today.

I work with homeless and abused kids in my personal time, and faith almost always comes into it at some point. But I’ve yet to find a large, well-funded church willing to let me bring the kids there because it could damage their image.

Smaller churches in so-called bad areas have always welcomed us because they’re practicing the Word in the way I believe it was meant to be. To spread God’s message and love. To help each other. To not judge but accept and assist.

I’ve also found that a lot of representation of faith plays things safe.

In my belief, God and His son Jesus are some of the most prominent rebels and risk-takers there ever were or will be.

Why are we, as Christians, afraid to live our faith with that same fearlessness?

I say all this to show you that even as someone who is fully invested in my faith and relationship with God, there are challenges. But what we have to understand is that it’s usually people that make it a challenge.

And we’re all people, so it will always be hard.

But the gifts are beyond measure.

The knowledge and experience of a love that goes beyond all boundaries is amazing.

Knowing that I’m loved and forgiven even with the multitude of mistakes I’ve made and will make throughout my life is almost incomprehensible.

And because of my faith, I have a pretty darn wonderful life. After turning my life over to God, my writing took on new depths I didn’t know possible.

My ability to help others reached new heights.

And the examples could go on for quite a while.

God doesn’t ask a lot of us. What He does ask requires commitment, work, and dedication, though, so it isn’t easy.

Trusting in what we feel rather than what we can see and touch is a challenge.

And you will see things that make you ask, “God, how could you let this happen?” But if you’re open to it, you’ll get an answer. It may not be the answer you want, or in the time you want it, but you’ll get it.

What I can tell you, though, is that if you let yourself take that leap of faith, it’s something you’ll never regret.

I pushed the envelope as close as I could to the edge, yet I was never forsaken by God. Never judged, never punished. Just loved.

I hope you do take that leap into faith if you haven’t yet. Your life will never be the same, and you’ll never regret it.

If I can help in that transition in any way, I will always do all I can because that’s what God did for me.