Every action has a reason behind it. I believe in God now, and without Him, there is no way I could have made it through the night of June 28th, 2003.
When I was six, living in California, everyday I prayed. Of course, it was always fruitless things like ponies, dresses, and the power to be a Power Ranger. Truthfully, I never knew what God was there for. No one taught me about Him, only that I need to believe. My family went to church almost every Sunday, but I never knew what was going on. The priest just kept reading, and then there was the standing, sitting, standing, singing. Nothing was ever explained to me, so I didn’t understand.
Now, I believe in God again, but it wasn’t always this way. When my parents got divorced I felt that God had failed me, betrayed me.
It wasn’t until I moved back to Texas that I started believing again. My grandparents are wonderful people, and very religious. I lived with them for two months in New Braunfels; we went to church every Wednesday and Sunday. This time, being older, and slightly more interested, I understood most of what was being said.
Instantly, I made friends with Rebecca. She taught me about God.
On June 28th, 2003, the night before the church’s performance of Sermon on the Mound, there was a lock-in. Across the street, the Baptist church was also having one, but it was for people of the same congregation in different cities in Texas. Some of the girls and I slept near the window. Around eleven p.m. we heard loud crying and screaming. Rebecca got up to see what was happening. A father was beating his son at the Baptist church. He threw him against the wall. We went to Ms. Maggie to tell her what was going on. The police were called; turns out the father took his son to the bus station. They lived in Waco. I have no idea whether or not they were stopped. All through the night, I starred at a cross mounted on the wall above me. I kept asking why? Why had this happened, and why was I a witness to it.
God is said to work in mysterious ways. That night, I started believing again. There was a reason I saw that horrible incident, though I’m not sure what it is. There is one.
In Conversations with God I, a very unusual dialogue is being read. The author Neale Donald Walsch is randomly inspired to write conversations he feels. He doesn’t hear God’s voice; he feels that something higher than him is talking through him. Walsch speculates whether or not this is real. And, though I have not finished the book, I believe it is real.
“You cannot create a thing – not a thought, an object, an event – no experience of any kind – which is outside of God’s plan.”
God has a plan for all of us, whether you believe in Him or not. I am not trying to push anyone to share my ideologies; I could care less whether or not you believe in anything. It is none of my business. But I believe in God because he has a plan for me, and I’m ready to live it.
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