S H A R I N G S O N M Y J O U R N E Y T O W A R D S C A T H O L I C I S M This is going to be a very long piece of writing so I will highly appreciate those who actually took their time to read this. I was kinda in doubt whether to post this or not. But somehow, I thought of something that intrigued me. I posted this because I know somewhere at a point in my life I would face a serious temptation and I myself won’t even be able make a sound judgement. And then I know, that He will send someone to remind me of this post, and possibly lead me back to the path I was once belonged to. I was not raised the way some of my Christian friends did. I only know that God exists and the usual karmic phrases “You do good, you get good” and the “You do bad, you get bad” stuffs. I was just a little kid who goes to school, play with friends, go swimming in the river, read books and watch TV. I only listened to my friends chatters about what they did in Bible classes, singing and them showing their religious items that they bought every Monday morning in class. I was only like, “Oh, that’s pretty.” without actually knowing the meaning of those words. My parents never told me anything about Christianity as I remembered, which also explains why I never went to the church. I can’t exactly remember the first time I went to a church but what I do remember is that it was my grandmother who brought me. Sometimes my aunt and my sister would follow but pretty much of the time it was just me and grandmom. We went to a small church christened as St. Andrew(chapel) in a place named Mangkalua. The road from grandmom’s to the church was rough, dusty, and sometimes the patches were so deep with rain water that we had to pull our sleeves to avoid it from being wet. I also remember when my grandmom said after I complained the long journey that we had to take. She said “The journey is indeed rough and long, but it will seem so near and not far enough if you always go through it.” But she always treated me with a delicious local delicacy that was sold outside the church as we arrived. I was sitting next to my grandmom and she taught me things that I need and needn’t do. Like, crossing both arms on my shoulders as we proceed towards the altar, and I kinda remembered where she gave me two fifty-cents and I gave them both away on the first collection and she was kinda mad for that. I don’t know why, and then I realized that there was a second collection. That’s where I learned about the first few things. My curiosity was there when I saw a man crucified on a cross, with an inscription ‘INRI’ on top of the cross, and of a statue of a lady in blue and red robes. But that was that. A few years later, we moved to a new village. It was 2005 if I am not mistaken. Primary school went just fine, and my life as a kid gets more exciting since it’s the junior high year. Grandmom would still bring me to church with her but we have to go with a van for that because the church was situated in the downtown. The church was christened as St. Theresa(St. Therese of Lisieux). It was a bigger church this time, with more people and a larger man crucified on a cross, and a larger statue of a lady in a cave-like place. I dont know who were they at that time. We went there a few times. Only grandmom and me. Sometimes my little sister, but not as much. After the UPSR results were announced in 2007, I was given an offer to study at a boarding school in Kedah under the funding of Sabah governing body, well of course I accepted it! But the feelings were mixed. We did all the preparations needed. And then the last Sunday before my flight, my grandmom brought me to celebrate the Mass for one last time. After the Mass, she rushed me to meet with the Father. His name is Father Thomas Yip. My grandmom asked him to give blessings to me, well, that was after a few chitchats and questions about my studies, of why only me and grandmom went to Sunday Mass... He put his hand on my head and said a quiet prayer, while I merely stared on his face as his lips muttered the prayers. I don’t know what he prayed but that prayer really changed my life. So I went to the Peninsular, and found new friends, learned stuffs a lot, and let’s just say I learned quite several things on various religions. I was fascinated with the existence of many gods and goddesses from the books that I’ve read. So I went to the library a lot to read about Greek mythologies, the Vikings, Romans, Chinese and Indian, Oriental, Mid-Eastern and Mid-Western histories, and a few more stuffs on gods and goddesses. For a while I believed their existence since almost all books that I’ve read said so. My school starts on Sundays so you can say that I never go to church while I was in school terms. I only go to church when it was the end-of-year school holidays, in my hometown, with grandmom or by myself sometimes. I was at home before the senior year starts where Mom suddenly brings me to St. Theresa. I was glad and I followed along. But we haven’t been baptized then. When it was time for Communion, I went in front of the altar and Mom asked me what she should do. I don’t know how to answer and I asked her to give her hands out maybe? (like receiving the Body of Christ) and I proceeded with my arms crossed on my shoulders and I don’t know whatever happened with Mom after I returned to my seat. She was kinda mad at me for not telling her the same to cross her arms on the shoulders because the Father said she hasn’t been baptized. I was mad, too for I don’t know what to tell her. It was Father Edward Raymond. Then I returned to senior high school. All I know was both Mom and Dad took Sunday classes. I don’t know the reason why so I just said okay. Until the final year as a senior, on Good Friday. I was in the class, doing my homework as it’s a holiday, but not announced, so. Mom texted me that she and Dad were going to be baptized soon. I didn’t know what to reply and I just told her to take a good care of themselves. I don’t even know the significance of Ash Wednesday, White Thursday, Good Friday, Holy Saturday, Easter Sunday and other days of obligation and days of saints and angels! How ignorant was I! Not until in college. Initially, I met friends and I heard their stories of Christmas, choir carols and such and such. But then again, I went to the church for a few times (well, sometimes not). I heard that they were organizing a registration for Sunday school. I only know what Sunday school actually meant then. It was for meant for baptism. I was deliberately making decisions. To join or not to join? It took me a few weeks. What with money problems, studies, time management and to find sponsors... but I finally joined, with some of my friends. Finding a sponsor was hard, not many wanted to. However it was a night where I went for an occasional break in my friends’ room where I finally met him. He told me that it wasn’t going to be an easy journey but I didn’t understand but he willingly agreed at last. He was there for me to teach me stuffs and dos and don’ts about Catholicism, be there every time a meeting was held... He is indeed a very responsible sponsor. I realized that I was trying to make myself to not join this baptismal class when I looked back and examined the reasons I can’t register for Sunday school. How evil I was. I went through a lot in this journey. Of wonderful experiences, sad memories, bad encounters, supportive moments... and the time when I realized that my sponsor is actually a part of a huge Catholic family I never knew existed in college. The Lord God finally calls me to be with them for the Christmas Play. Those five months towards the end of college really changed my life. I began to pay more attention on my baptismal classes, got emotional in Sunday Mass, being passionate in church choir, became very happy each time there was a gathering, being so sad for every farewell with them even knowing the fact that I will see them the next day, and I found myself praying a lot, well sometimes I don’t. I am not perfect. I embraced Him because He loves sinners and I am for one, a worthless sinner. My friends were so taking care of me of the things that I should know about. The journey became even more important to me on the arrival of Lent. The hardest yet most meaningful Lent of my life. The weeks leading to Easter Sunday were making me nervous so much. I asked myself, “Am I really ready to get myself baptized?” I don’t know what to answer. The question kept bothering me until the eve of Easter Sunday. I was shivering and shaking so much as the moments before the Baptism and the Mass started. My Catholic family were being emotional and all happy, though I haven’t understood their happiness. But I finally did when one of my friends said “In a few moments, you will be His. And no one in this world shall ever have the ability to take you away from Him anymore. You will be called as His child, forever.” I was finally able to answer the bugging question. “YES. I AM READY TO BE BAPTIZED. I WANT TO BE HIS CHILD. I WANT TO BELONG TO HIM FOREVER.” I was even happier because my parents and siblings were there to witness the ceremony. I am so glad because my parents finally embraced Catholicism. April 19th 2014 will always be in my memory. All these years I was lost, but through His grace and love, He found me and brought me to Him. So I picked the hymn ‘Amazing Grace’ as the theme of my life. My prayer here is that I hope you will always pray for His love to me, to serve Him in small ways with love, and prayers to never be arrogant and judging and proud in living my life in Him. I was kinda thinking who actually prayed for me so that I returned to Catholicism. I don’t know, but I know that ‘He has made everything beautiful in its time.’ (Ecclesiastes 3:11) Thank you Heavenly Father, Thank you Jesus Christ, Thank you Holy Spirit, Thank you Mother Mary, Thank you Archangels, and all Saints and Angels.
Posted on: Tue, 30 Sep 2014 06:54:40 +0000
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