I know there are others with heftier crosses than me, but mine has been weighing on my shoulders. Out of all of the tests that may lie in my way to taking his spirit, my greatest has taken the shape of Peter’s – I find myself shying away from admitting I am going to be confirmed as a Catholic.
Of course, in a Catholic school and as the Chaplaincy Prefect, it was easy – I had my own hold on life, even when the minority in our school were the devout Catholics.
Yet, out in the ‘real world’ now, it’s less easy for me to say it, word for word. I am asked from where I’ve come so early on a Sunday, though I know I am with friends and fellow Christians, I feel uneasy saying ‘church’. Even when the service has been good.
For my Journey to Faith classes, I disappear for two hours on Tuesday evenings. People ask me where I am going, and I’m more inclined to say “a thing”. To the family, it is the hardest to admit.
I have been thrice denying.
Am I ashamed of my faith? In my heart, I don’t feel ashamed. Sometimes I can’t verbalise the verbosities in my mind – do I feel my words are inadequate for ineffable spirit?
I can’t objectively answer that.
What I do know is of that personal part of me that never tells anybody anything. It’s just another terrible facet of my personality, a trial from which I find no escape.
I don’t want to deny who I am or what I heartfeltedly believe – so why do I keep skirting the questions? And – ah, the questions of my own. Regardless of my old self, I had hoped I’d take the spirit’s guidance for truth on this matter.
I guess I’ll keep praying, keep thinking, and certainly keep hoping as I look up to the new year and what is coming for me. God bless.