Before I knew how to read, my mother would read Bible stories for kids to me and my brother every night. My favorites were the storybooks on Samuel and David. That was the first time I knew that there was a God.
By the time I knew how to read in Kinder I, there was a book sale in the school gym, and it was called, "The Everyday Bible." Basically, it was a book of Bible stories for each day of the year, from January 1 to December 31. That was the first time I learned of Cain and Abel and murder.
By Kinder 2, I had a liking towards books, so I read all the Bible-based storybooks my mother used to read to us before, and whatever else I can find at home. I was bored and the TV only had two channels, and none of them showed cartoons.
It was in Kinder 2 when a classmate asked, "What's your faith?" and I answered, "I'm a Christian." I was Kinder 2, I didn't know what Christian meant but that was what my mother told me. And then the trick question, "Okay, but which one?" I was stumped. My mother did not prepare me for this question, so I said, "I don't know, I'll ask Mama." That was the first time that I learned that there wasn't just one Christian, and it confused me that they had different names. I mean Christian is already a difficult strange term, now I had to learn Roman Catholic, and Protestant, and Baptist, and Evangelical, and so on, and I was told they all meant the same thing - Christian.
That conversation only happened once in Kinder 2, so all the new other terms I learned I've forgotten about. But it was in Kinder 2 that I first learned to pray. It was a prayer my mother taught me, I did not understand the words, but I echoed them anyway, and it goes like this, "In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. Lord, I thank for this day and for all the blessings that You have given me. Please forgive all my sins and please bless me and my family. In Jesus' name I pray. Amen. In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen." It felt like a really long prayer that time and I had to say that while I was kneeling on the hard floor, it was uncomfortable, but we did it anyway - every single night.
A few more years, I was in primary school and the books I read became thicker but the thickest book in the house was that black book in the upper shelves - the Bible. In my childish pride, I challenged myself to read it, because I was a reader, so I had to read it. So I climbed the shelves, I took the book and opened it, and there was a list of names. I thought the one that said Revelations would be an interesting read, because Revelations seemed like a magical name. But I didn't get past the dragon and the prostitute because I got really scared.
It was in third grade when my teacher, Teacher Mel, gave me a little prayer book, and a pin with baby Jesus on it. I thought the pin was cute, and I loved the prayer book, because it taught me the words for the things I wanted to pray about when my vocabulary was limited. And that book I read almost every day, and it was 2 x 1 inch in size, so I always had it in my pocket. But one time, I forgot to take it out, so it got laundered and destroyed. I cried. Thankfully, some of the pages were still alive, but it just wasn't the same anymore.
Fifth grade, my teacher was telling us a story in class, and as an example she shared to us how she prayed, and one of her sentences said, "Lord Jesus, I love you and I want to offer my life to You." When I heard that, I was floored, how could anyone be willing to give their life to someone but at the same time, I had to ask, how do I know that I love God? I mean I knew I had to love Him because that was what I heard from everyone but how do I know?
One night, I overheard my mother and her friend talking outside church, and they said, "Yes, God loves her (referring to me)." I've seen 'God loves you' stickers and posters before, but when I heard that I suddenly knew that it was true. My heart was bursting, I was on a high. Wow! God loves me! A God loves me! Me? Can you believe that? Me? God loves...me? And I thought, yeah, I could give you my life, because You love me. So I tried saying my teacher's prayer, because I wanted to give my life to this God, this all-powerful God who thought that I was worthy to be loved by Him. But how does one give their life to someone? How do I love God? And if I do, how do I know that I do love? I didn't really know the answers, but, however that is, I'll say it anyway because if I did love and give my life and not know about it, I'll come to know in time. If I said it and thought I gave my life and loved God but weren't really, I would learn how. It was a scary prayer, because I wanted to give my life but I was afraid to die. It was serious, and I knew it was a commitment (though I didn't have a word for it back then) but I said the prayer anyway
Summer time, between fifth and sixth grade. My aunt gave us this Bible, "The Adventure Bible," the cover was sparkly, so I thought this looks cool, I have to read it. So I did, it was an NIV Bible with yellow boxes to explain hard concepts to kids, but it is the full-blown Bible. I avoided Revelations at all costs, and randomly opened a page, and I found myself entranced with its poetic way of telling things. My two younger siblings were still kids that time, and since we slept in the same bed, they wanted their bed time stories from me. And I thought, well, since I'm telling bedtime stories, might as well teach them the prayer my mom taught me. (Of course during this time, I already prayed differently but I thought that the first prayer I knew was the kid's edition.) So as they were following along, I had a eureka moment, this time, I actually understood what the prayer meant.
Sixth grade, Mama was bringing my brother and I to the parish prayer meeting every Monday. It finished around 10pm, and we'd have Giacomino's pizza after. Mostly, my brother and I would go for the pizza. But the prayer and worship during the prayer meetings were different than the mass, there was a lightness of being. There was (as I've come to know later on) the tangible presence of God and I wanted to be in that presence (though I didn't have the words for it yet).
First year high school, my first time to have a serious argument. I don't know what we were talking about but I remember where the argument started. It started with this, "No, you Catholics are different" and I said, "How? I don't understand. Don't we both believe in one God? Don't we both believe that God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit are one? Don't we both believe that Jesus died for us and saved us?" "Yes, but there are many many differences between us," was the reply. (I mean yes we are different, but the kind of different that was meant, was a difference that should make us divided). And so an argument ensued along with questions about Mary and the saints, and I would be saying, "But we don't worship them" and they'd disagree until I finally had it. I don't know what else I said, but I remembered walking out the room. And my chest was burning and I was crying and I called my mother, and I asked, "Ma...why? How could they say that? (I don't remember what else was said during the argument but I do remember feeling like I was being accused of something I am not guilty of)" and she simply says, "Do not feel burdened to defend Catholicism." That calmed me down, I returned to the room, we said our apologies to each other, and all was forgotten.
Then college came, people randomly come up to me and ask "Do you believe in God?" and I'd smile say, "I'm a Christian" and again the trick question comes up, "Where do you go to?" and when I say the Catholic Church, their faces change, and they'd tell me, "That's not Christian," and they'd proceed with doing what they set out to do, and I'd listen and smile patiently. I thought, well, this person really wants to share God so I'll just let him, it won't hurt me anyway. But, I would always feel confused, because the Bible did say that a Christian is a follower of Christ, was there a definition change somewhere along the line and no one notified me of it? But I refused not to be called a Christian, so that was when my answer began to take the form of, "I'm a Christian...but I'm a Catholic." Like I had to put a disclaimer, like I had to apologise for it, like I had to be ashamed of it. Strangely, it annoyed me when Catholics ask, "Are you Catholic or Christian?" and apparently they were referring to the denomination. It annoyed me because so far in all the masses I've been to, the priests would always say Kristiyanong Katoliko, which means there was no definition change, so why this confusion? So again, I wondered, when did Christian = denomination instead of Christian = a follower of Christ? By now, my heart was breaking, I was becoming confused, and I was beginning to doubt. I had a lot of questions which I could not find the answers to but I still went to mass every Sunday. I thought there will be a time when all my questions will be answered. May be because I'm still young that's why I don't understand.
Then I met different groups of awesome people from different Christian denominations, and they enabled me to grow as a Christian - there were the life meetings, the cell groups (life groups), the Encounter, PEPSOL. It was AMAZING!!! I did not mind whoever was speaking as long as I learned more of the Word, learned more of God, and knew God more, like the song, "take me deeper in love with You". And I still went to mass every Sunday.
It was during college when I first started to pray, "Lord, I want the freedom to worship You" - that is the freedom to worship God in whatever denomination I choose, in whatever way I know and not be judged or hanged for it.
The only time I did not go to mass every Sunday was when I was in Singapore but I wasn't bothered because I had a Church to go to. I was in the company of amazing Christian Filipinos and they adopted me when I was there. One day, my friend and I were randomly talking about life and she asks, "So what is the vision of the Catholic church?" And to my shame, I did not know the answer to that.
Fast forward, 3-day retreat, here. I was determined to go. Never mind the assignments, I had to go, so I went. And I was surprised to be in the company of young Christian Catholics who understood what the Church is about, what it's founded on, and why the things that I've always known but took for granted were actually important and why they were being done. It was like a brick was thrown at my head. How could I not have known these things? I felt like I missed out because I've grown up with all these things and yet I have never understood them, nor did I try to understand them. I boxed them in this prejudiced paradigm and that box was now shattered. And it was like the song, "For the first time: I've been looking at you forever, but I never saw you before." Like my eyes have been opened to something beautiful. It was a beauty that was not observed, it was a beauty that I just knew. Just like when I knew that God loves me, I knew God was there and I knew that I had to know.
So I have determined to learn more about the teachings of Catholicism and its Traditions, about the Mass, the Eucharist, EVERYTHING, because I wanted to know God more. There will always be more of God to know of, and in my heart, this desire to learn about the Catechism, stems from the desire to know God more intimately. A humble heart, God will not despise, and as He promised, if we seek we shall find. May God be with me on this journey.
"They (the magi) were those who sought not tales but the truth of things; and since their thirst for truth was itself a thirst for God, they also have had their reward." - G.K. Chesterton (as shared by Ate C).
I believe, in God's time, I will find what I seek.
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