That One Eventful Night ✔️

10

As soon as I finished my daily routine, Maki spent the whole morning swimming with my older brother. Though he tried to convince me to join, I simply refused. I mean, I have trauma with regards to water. I fell down on a cliff and to the lake, remember? I don't think he remembers that. I'm not even sure if he knows. I didn't tell him though. It's not that important, and besides, it's all in the past.

Since today is Saturday and tomorrow is Sabbath day, I thought of reading the Bible when I realized again—I'm not at home. I didn't have a Bible with me when I arrived here. And how should I even share it with them? Oh, God, I pray that you give me confidence today.

My prayers were answered when I saw my father walking down the stairs. I waited at the couch while thinking of different ways to ask him about it. I was starting to feel sweaty but I gulped down and pushed my nervousness away. This won't hurt.

"F-Father?" I stuttered while trying to look at him in the eyes. Normally, I talk to elders without leveling my eyes with theirs, since it's a sign of disrespect, especially if you ask a favor or something that requires them. But I'm no near normal today.

He looked at me with emotionless face and it reminded me of my mother. I brought my head down and tried to call myself as I was trembling in fear. Do not fear, only believe. Suddenly, I remembered that verse, Mark 5:36, and it gave me courage to straighten myself and speak out my voice. Not acting tough or string, but just courageous enough to face my father.

"Do you have a Bible with you? I was planning to do Bible readi—"

"We don't do that." I tilted my head and crunched my face. Huh? What does he mean by that? "We don't have a Bible."

"What do you mean by you don't do that? Father, are you not a Christian? Why don't you have a Bible?" I questioned him, and this is not wrong. My hands still trembled as I saw the look of my father. He's angry that I'm questioning him.

"I am busy so I don't have time to read the Bible and business—"

I took a step forward as I still stared at him. "Busy? How can you be busy during Sunday? It's the Lord's day. We rest. And we should give thanks to the Lord during that day. Have you ever forget that?"

While I was speaking, I was thinking of my siblings and how it was easy for them to spit spiteful words, how easy for them to do harmful actions to me. My mother certainly has a bad attitude, not a good example to any of us. Christian or not, she is wrong. I've realized that. They weren't raised properly. If Jesus was here, I'd complain to him all day long like how I complain to my Gino.

I went back to my room and locked myself there. I heard my brother and Maki laughing so I shut the windows. I stared at the wall in front of me as I sat on my bedroom.

"Lord, how could they?" I started to complain. As if Jesus would answer, but I still continued. "I—I mean, weren't they supposed to be Christians? I get it, they weren't with us and experience Bible studies and schools unlike me, but don't they have a certain and strong connection with you? You're the rock." I'm struggling how to put my thoughts into words.

"I don't mean to sound rude to those who aren't Christians or non-believers, and to those who does not believe in You, but this is my family I'm talking about..." for a long moment, I shut my mouth. I was immersed in my thoughts again. I was afraid I'd say something offensive not just to those non-believers but to God too.

"God, are you testing me? Are my family an obstacle? Are you saying that I should introduce You to them and help them out? But how? " I admit that I exaggerated my expressions when I started to walk back and forth and did the hand gestures while looking up—as if God was just above me, looking down on me and listen to me complaining and explaining my thoughts.