I believe in a variety of principles regarding life but they are all stemmed from the one central belief that I have in God. Trials and tribulations plague everyone, believers and nonbelievers, and there is always the struggle of how to overcome them after they are presented. Many people believe that trials are strictly obstacles and they have no purpose besides hindering an individual’s ability to accomplish something they desire. As a Christian, I actually believe trials are what drive us to accomplish goals, even though they usually feel unnecessary. These trials create a much greater sense of desire to pursue tasks, as well as developing skills that are essential like perseverance.
If it’s possible to breeze through Faith in Christ without doubt or tribulations, there would be a lot less significant reward at the end because of how painless the journey was. I experienced this concept first when I was a small kid, and started to believe in this principle shortly after. This started with me being awaken from a groggy sleep, I found myself sprawled on a worn-down couch with the smell of stale alcohol and smoke in the air. I reached for my phone which I tried to see through the morning haze that encrusted my eyes. When I picked up my phone, I saw that I had notifications, but only from my mom, which was not a surprise for a 14 year old boy. Her diction seemed to express an urgent concern of my well-being while at my dad’s house, but I ignored it and slid the phone back into my pocket.
I tiptoed down the hallway to peer in the room where my dad was, and tried to act surprised by what I found. Someone that called himself a “caretaker” was passed out on the floor, empty bottles of hard liquor and prescription bottles sprawled all around. I attempted to wake him up, repeatedly tapping him and escalating to shaking him violently, all with the same result of him not waking up. After this attempt, I uncontrollably started to tremble at the sudden thought that he might not be alive. I rushed to take my phone out of my pocket to call my mom. As she picked up, she knew there was something wrong by the sound of my voice, and as I told her what I had seen, she advised me to check if he was breathing.
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As I went to check for this, I heard my mom say that she was rushing over as she hung up the phone. I checked to make sure my dad was breathing and then crumbled to the floor to wait for my mom to arrive. I opened my blurry eyes and sitting in my direct line of sight was a small, seemingly glowing cross. Even in the turmoil I was going through, when I looked at that cross it gave off some sense of hope that I could cling to. As I was thinking of this, my mom rushed into the room after what felt like an eternity and whisked me away with tears running down my face.
