My name is Salem, I was born on religious grounds but somehow I believe the story should be different!
I was seated on the stair case and watching every one prepare for the early morning Mass. I had this stoic look on my face and for minutes I kept watching mom walk to and fro trying to get ready. She looks so beautiful, but I wonder what drives her. Dad is on the phone with the priest, describing the importance of our Thanksgiving and why it needed to come first before the Okongwus.
I could see Nancy from the slightly opened door to her room. She is putting on heavy make up, as I starred at her, I could see her desire to impress everyone except God. I could see the hunger in her soul that her self-esteem can't satisfy.
This Sunday would have been like every normal Sunday but I woke up with a burdened spirit and a need to question every single act!
St. Peter's Catholic Church has the most number of members than any other church in the city. Today, I wasn't going to pretend. I didn't want to feign righteousness or holiness. I needed water to quench the burning questions in my soul.
Why did mother dress so sophisticatedly only to be featured in the conversation of her fellow women? Why does the priest preach with queens English, leaving the average man aback? Why has Dad given the priest an order that we should come first for Thanksgiving when the God we serve looks at our hearts instead?
The church is full but empty. For a second I felt the cold pang of loneliness. Am I the only one with the questions?
The intercessory prayers began but I lacked the need to pray. I wanted to know why we were praying. Is the receptor actually hearing us? Or has our sins engulfed the prayer portal that he can't hear? And possibly, we all cared less!
I knew I needed something, I needed the life and not the method. I grew up on religious grounds but I know something is wrong somewhere.
Today, my soul has began to hunger and even after the Mass, my heart hungered.
Give me religion only if you will give me the Life!
I was seated on the stair case and watching every one prepare for the early morning Mass. I had this stoic look on my face and for minutes I kept watching mom walk to and fro trying to get ready. She looks so beautiful, but I wonder what drives her. Dad is on the phone with the priest, describing the importance of our Thanksgiving and why it needed to come first before the Okongwus.
I could see Nancy from the slightly opened door to her room. She is putting on heavy make up, as I starred at her, I could see her desire to impress everyone except God. I could see the hunger in her soul that her self-esteem can't satisfy.
This Sunday would have been like every normal Sunday but I woke up with a burdened spirit and a need to question every single act!
St. Peter's Catholic Church has the most number of members than any other church in the city. Today, I wasn't going to pretend. I didn't want to feign righteousness or holiness. I needed water to quench the burning questions in my soul.
Why did mother dress so sophisticatedly only to be featured in the conversation of her fellow women? Why does the priest preach with queens English, leaving the average man aback? Why has Dad given the priest an order that we should come first for Thanksgiving when the God we serve looks at our hearts instead?
The church is full but empty. For a second I felt the cold pang of loneliness. Am I the only one with the questions?
The intercessory prayers began but I lacked the need to pray. I wanted to know why we were praying. Is the receptor actually hearing us? Or has our sins engulfed the prayer portal that he can't hear? And possibly, we all cared less!
I knew I needed something, I needed the life and not the method. I grew up on religious grounds but I know something is wrong somewhere.
Today, my soul has began to hunger and even after the Mass, my heart hungered.
Give me religion only if you will give me the Life!
Nice one
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