Faith;

When your soul hears that something,

That something so slight.

The pinging ring when it's uttered

a wing with holes heals for flight.

Divinely it is fostered,

in your heart hear that chime

that bewilders philosophers

but it can't be denied.

This jingle made ore your quiet heartstrings

is as low as a whisper

yet still deafening.

It rings on to endless,

it is infinite and we

have only to hear it

to know eternally

that what this life is,

is worth having meaning.

It is what there aren't words for

but inside you its gleaming

right at the edge of passionate feeling. It speaks like a song bird

within joyful communion.

To love one another

is the direction it's leading.

Amazingly it's invisible,

But your heart can just see it

when it's found it's profound;

No logic can reason with

why faith would be or

How it could be proven.

Faith if sought

Is something to believe in;

It abounds,

And its presence is persistent.

While it perseveres in each of us

who thought to try and reach it..

Those who just stop,

Really stop.

Stop and listen,

It's that soulful sonorous riff,

Creation in transmission.

In your heart its playing out,

The hidden Hymnal symphony.

You've never noticed somehow.

This minstrel melody

Intrinsic

but till now

you havent ever listened

Or

You never knew quite how.

(Caution: started ranting halfway lol)

Faith is harder to maintain than I ever imagined. It's fickle.

They failed me.

And I failed my faith.

That's when I stopped praying.

My cross was left there hanging in my room, in spider webs and dust.

My pure white sotana was left inside my cabinet, never worn again after the last time I served during Misa de Gallo. Never worn again after almost 3 years.

The church used to be my second home for a brief time of serving for 2 and a half years.

It was the place I ran to when I didn't want to be at home. When my home is filled with miasma of negative energy.

I ran into my beloved church cause I couldn't breathe at home. It became a habit eventually.

I used to only be at home for a day and a half, except for the night. Clearly, I spent most of my time away and I got used to it somehow.

The first time I slept in the convent was exhilarating. It has a different kind of excitement. Because we normally don't sleep in the convent. Since Father was there and we should be sleeping in the basement, underneath the altar.

My idea of belief is quite rigid. I suppose religion itself is quite rigid. I had doubts everyday, reading the Bible doesn't necessarily helps all the time since I was left with more questions day by day.

But reading the Bible randomly when you're down helps a lot. It's like you're talking to God, it was really comforting.

I know that church wasn't all good and stuff. I know there was a dark history to it. I was aware that people aren't perfect. I was aware that all of what we're doing is voluntary. I know that people have a lot of things to hide. I know those who served in church have a lot of different kinds of reasons. I'm becoming aware of it months after I became an official choir member. And I became more aware of it after a year for my investiture as a Savio, no that's the old term for that. We mostly call ourselves sacristans, an altar server.

It felt so good adding "Miss Dame" before my name while introducing, while donned in an all-white sotana. It felt so damn good.

But that investiture was a blessing and a compensation for what comes next.

We moved to a new house days before my birthday, after a week would be my investiture.

It was a blessing in disguise, that's what they call it.

But I didn't saw it as a blessing. It was a compensation.

Maybe for doubting God, maybe he gave those blessings and trials so I can be more worthy of those blessings.

His grace upon me, the jovial days of serving came to a hitch.

I noticed people were pretending too much.

Pretending too nice. No, I hate how they lied. I hate how much they keep lying.

Their tongue twisted like a snake's. Giggling while cursing.

Why are you guys serving, when you guys didn't conduct yourselves worthy of those responsibilities and commitment to church!

Didn't we promise to fix our characters? I promised to be good. In worthy of stepping on the altar! Bowing my head for God!

Why?

Why????

Why are all of you like that!?

Why???

Why is no one reprimanding him!

Why did no one told me?

I stopped feeling the belongingness. I started becoming uneasy. I was questioning everything. I know these dark sides but it felt different when you experienced it first hand. I suddenly saw things I wished they didn't do. Was church just a stage play for you?

I don't feel the same in church anymore.

I don't feel safe anywhere......anymore.

No, I shouldn't have been so welcoming.

I thought I would get reprimanded if I ignored my senior.

He has 4 years experience while I only had a year of experience at that time.

No one told me why he's out of church. The reason why he isn't present during our training. I was late to know, that he was suspended for months!

NO ONE TOLD ME HE STARTED SHOWING UP AGAIN NOT BECAUSE I ENCOURAGED HIM BUT BECAUSE I WAS THERE! THEY BECAME OUR NEW NEIGHBORS! I DIDN'T KNOW HIS PARANOIA! I DIDN'T KNOW HE HAVE SUDDEN OUTRAGE! NO ONE TOLD ME HE HAD A LOT OF ISSUES! THEY THOUGHT I COULD HELP HIM MEND HIMSELF! I ALSO DID! BUT NO! MY HYPOCRISY CAUSED ME HARM THAN GOOD!

I reported him to the higher-ups when he started insulting my parents! I didn't give a damn when he insulted me but my parents are off limits! He crossed the line for fuck's sake!

The youth council knows! The leader knows! The coordinator knows! Father knows as well!

So why didn't they dealt with him sooner? Another younger server became a victim after me! It escalated quickly, he almost got to jail.

He just turned 18, I was 2 years younger. He told my father, in front of the village chief, in front of the local police, that he was "courting" me. His father thought it was a child's play!

That was the first time I felt so weak, so insignificant. That those who had power could get away with such "trivial" things.

That was the first time I experienced power in my social life.

I later realized his father was a member from Knights of Columbus. Small world, I remember assisting him few times. Didn't realize it first.

I cope up with him for more than 2 months alone! I cope up with the aftereffects for another 6 months alone!

That's when I stopped coming to church.

I stopped serving after Christmas.

And I shut myself inside my room.

Until lockdown came.

Until I didn't want to set my foot out of the gates even if my "neighbors" changed houses.

Until I let myself rot inside my cage.

Faith is fickle.

I attest to that.

i could worship anything. everything is holy. i could repent at your hips or confess in your lips. it would be so easy to be completely devoted to you. you're closer to divinity than humanity in my eyes and love isn't enough anymore. why love when i can praise, plead and weep at your feet. live for you, find you when you're not around, follow every word you say to my own destruction.

when did this stop being love? when exactly did i make you a god? and why did i burn down the forest i called sacred?

I used to be religious.

Once a week I went to Sunday school. Once a year I went to a Christian sleep-away camp. I made friends, prayed, rejoiced, had fun. It was nice knowing I would never die completely. I loved the thought of someone who loved me unconditionally; someone who was watching over me; protecting me. I loved how mortality wasn't the end. I loved knowing the answers to things science may never explain. I loved the community. I know many aren't, but my church was completely accepting of anyone, regardless of race, gender, or sexuality, and I loved it. I've heard stories of people on the brink of suicide getting rescued by Christianity, and although I no longer believe in God, the stories are touching nonetheless.

But then I started to question things. If God was so loving and forgiving, why did he flood the earth and kill all who inhabited it, including millions of innocent animals? Why did he order infants killed because of their parents' sins? Why did he put atheists in hell, when all they did was believe what felt reasonable to them?

It got worse when my brother told me he no longer believed in God. I became desperate, grasping at every single slight coincidence that might prove God's existence. I argued with him, despite secretly agreeing, because I needed God to be real. I needed there to be a heaven. I simply couldn't believe that death was the end—that one day, I would die, and that would be it. Forever. I envy people who believe in a paradisiacal afterlife. But no matter how hard I try, I can't force myself to believe something that I know, deep down, I don't.

But eventually, I accepted the fact I was an atheist. I told my parents, but they still made us go to church. I value my time greatly—I only have so many minutes—so when sixty of those minutes are unwillingly taken away from me every Sunday morning, it gets on my nerves. I'm even prevented from doing certain activities because it would mean missing church.

Religion isn't inherently a bad thing. But some people make it. Some people use religion to justify unrelated opinions. Some people—few, but loud—demand gay marrages must be banned, or say abortion is unethical just because God says so. I can respect opinions made with valid reasoning, but if "God says so" is your best justification, it's not a good one.

For the first half of my life, I believed in a God Almighty. I was a hundred percent certain. So certain that my faith manifested me a baby brother, whether by luck or not, and here he is today.

It was comforting, you know. Sometimes, I still miss it. Going into the Church knowing there is someone up there. Feeling like I'm exactly the kind of person my parents should be because I followed their ways like an obedient little one. I was the good girl of the house, I wanted approval and love and so I always wanted to do right by them. I wanted to be the exact person they wanted me to become. Unfortunately... Or maybe I should say fortunately, that didn't last.

The Church began to feel like an unsafe place for me as I was entering my teenage years. At first, it was because I didn't understand why people could claim they served Christ and still be so hateful of others based on things as silly as religion, race, sexuality. And then I realised that I was in fact not the cisgender heterosexual good Christian girl my parents wanted me to be. Being there began to confuse me, to scare me, because it seemed something as simple as thinking I could some day meet a woman beautiful enough inside and out to fall in love with became a sin that destined me for hell.

Hell. That's the dark side of religion. Of Christianity. It's why people have been killed and burnt and suppressed throughout history. The fear. It's what they use to confuse and brainwash so many. It's why my parents are disgusted by parts of my identity. It's why my mother screamed at my sister days ago for not wanting to say a prayer. It's why my father casually informed me he almost slapped me when I came out as bi. The damage that Christianity has done, not just in my family but everyone's cannot be overlooked. The damage throughout history that religion has caused is written in so many books, is embedded in so many hearts, whether they want to remember so or not. But I do. I'll remember.

So yes. I understand the joys of having faith. The comforting, all-encompassing belief that there is indeed god/gods watching over us. But the dark side is a fanatical horror show that has caused sorrow, heartbreak, trauma, abuse and death. So... No. Unlike my more fanatic parents, I have the compassion to understand their own opinion but I prefer a life free of the burden of a religion, despite the deprivation of the good parts. Once you leave, it's hard to imagine ever returning and I really don't ever plan to, no matter how pretty followers think it to be. All it brought me in the end was pain and I'm glad I don't have to put myself under that pressure, anymore.