Dancing With The Masquerade

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT: ABBA FATHER

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ABBA FATHER

Again, I blinked a little faster and more times than usual as I stared at him.

"God... spoke to you? W-what did he say I shouldn't do?" I asked, although not sure why I had to.

"I don't know what it is you're about to do, but that's the message he sent me to give to you."

Gradually, I withdrew my hand from his as I lowered my eyes from his, feeling even more lost and confused with each passing second.

"How... how... how did he speak to you?"

I watched him draw in a silent and yet deep breath. "Not directly, though. Sometimes, through visions, dreams or when I'm studying the bible... I know this might sound strange to you but..."

"And he says I shouldn't go ahead with what I'm about to do?" I asked to be sure I was hearing clearly.

He nodded. "He cares about you more than you know."

"Why? I... I don't think I've ever served him the way one has to. I... Look, you don't understand. Something terrible will happen to my family if I don't do this."

"But the Lord is faithful, and he will strengthen you and protect you from the evil one. 2 Thessalonians 3 vs 3... see, he has promised to keep you safe and all you have to do is trust him, surrender yourself to his care and... nothing bad will happen." He encouraged; his eyes obvious to the fact that he meant every word he was saying, but I didn't know what to do. Should I believe his word?

All my life, I've known Christianity to be one of the major religions. Somehow, I think I knew there was a God, but growing up, there wasn't much that took me down that path to believing he really exists and to testify to that. Now, I'm being asked to give up my sense of logicality and to try believing in his existence and not just knowing about his existence. How do I do that? How do I surrender? Can I even do that? I'm clueless as to if accepting that path would be the right move at this point in my life.

His hand on mine was enough to pull me out of my thoughts and look up at his face. I stared into his eyes, searching for something I wasn't sure of.

"Whatever's troubling you, you're not alone... I'm here and so is God. If you let us, we will help you." His words were soothing and it would be awful of me to deny the fact that hearing the word help didn't make me feel relaxed, like someone's got my back. But I'm still in turmoil. I'm not sure I know how to accept true help for a change.

All my life, as the oldest, I've always had to be the one giving out help, and I grew up matured and very independent. It's no denying that Cergio has a very special place in my heart but... a but exists, and I'm just not sure why it's there. How do I let God help me? How do I actually welcome him to be the pilot of my life? Yes, in life, when we're stuck in situations that we're incapable of controlling like waiting in the lobby to receive the news that you have been selected to come back for round two of an interview, we sometimes look up with our hands interlocked with each other and pray or rather murmur earnestly in our hearts or through our lips for his intervention. Most of the time that happens, it feels like a reflex where we seek a higher force, whether it's there or not. We just want to believe something or a stronger force will help us.

Now, I truly have to believe that it's real. He's here to help me... specifically for me, and as enticing as it may sound, I couldn't believe I was that big of a deal to sort after.

I gulped down. "Out of all the people in the world that earnestly seek him out... why would he reach out to someone like me that never asked for his help? I... I don't understand."