Faith is more than intellectual agreement – it’s a lived reality.
My grandfather was a priest. I grew up with God. And literally across the street from the church, surrounded by symbols of faith and whispers of scripture. You’d think I had an advantage, that faith came naturally to me, like handed on a silver platter. But faith doesn’t work that way.
Even if God was a constant presence on my mind, there was the greatest distance and so much confusion. My understanding of Him was distorted by fear, misunderstanding, and a vague sense of duty. Fear asks the wrong questions, detours the search, and blurs the filter and the path. I suffered badly from what I call now “hollow faith”. I prayed for things to work a certain way, I prayed when I was scared, and everything was more about hoping to check all the right boxes. Gratitude came in scattered, shallow bursts. I understood God more like a feared authority and I wanted to do the right things not because of deep love and understanding, but because I was afraid of punishment.
I chased happiness the way the world taught me to: by achieving, acquiring, and fitting into the mold of success. I was addicted to the noise and he distractions that kept me from hearing the truth my soul longed for.
Yet I wanted to know God. I wanted the peace I sensed others had. And, somehow, I figured that that peace can only come when someone has God in their heart. But I was superficial. My filter was clogged by all the wrong perceptions. All the wounds, pains, disappointments, heartbreaks, betrayals. I picked up the Bible. With a skeptical attitude. I approached it almost defiantly, with a mind ready to challenge whatever I would find. The reading felt confronting, and I was uncomfortable with how it nudged at parts of me I wasn’t ready to examine. It was easier to dismiss it than to let it reach into those nooks and crannies of my heart. I wanted to prove it wrong, to justify my own path and avoid the discomfort of change.
As I achieved most of what I thought I wanted, I could see more and more of the gap, the emptiness and the constant fear. My confusion deepened. I wrestled with contradictions: the desire for wealth, yet fear of its morality; the craving for recognition, yet guilt for wanting it. And so many more.
Identifying and deconstructing. The beginning of a journey. I started paying close attention to my thoughts. I began to question the very foundation of my beliefs. What was the real meaning behind my thoughts? What was I truly seeking?
I picked up the Bible again. Instinctively, I knew that I would find all answers there. This time, it turned into an exploration of metaphors and symbolism, treating it as an intellectual puzzle. I was intrigued by how it made me think and question, but still, I was only skimming the surface. I started to explore very specific ideas, to journal, to meditated over verses, to wonder. There were days that really left me thinking. There were verses that, in my lack of understanding, scared me badly. I was still trying to make the Bible fit my perception of the world. I was till trying to manipulate ideas. I hadn’t yet surrendered my need to control the narrative.
At least I kept a faithful practice of challenging every thought I thought, every feeling I felt: in sadness or happiness alike, in feeling successful or crushed, in felling excited or totally floored. I wrote, I questioned, I explored every single day. And I started to inch my way into silence. Moments of total stillness where I just observed myself, my heart, my mind. I learned to isolate thoughts and feelings and how to reframe them. I learned how to look for ramifications. I learned how not to get fooled into thinking “I have arrived”, or “This is it” as in “I have completed my work.”
Working on self is not easy. Many times it is scary, confusing, overwhelming. The worst was when I thought a problem was solved, only to discover yet another layer. That was truly disheartening. I felt hopeless and defeated. I wanted to give up: ”what’s the point anyway?!?” But then I showed up in the ring again. Because I couldn’t help it.
With every step I took, I though I was going higher and higher. Until I understood how wrong I had been. I wasn’t climbing anything or anywhere. I was going deeper. With every solved puzzle of my heart I took a step closer to my soul. Closer to God.
You know how they say “Third time’s a charm”? Yes, I picked up the Bible again. This time with a whole new filter. With a lot of misconceptions cleared out of my way and my heart softened, I discovered how it held answers to so many of my questions, offering principles to guide me toward a life of deeper meaning. I found myself craving the reading, pondering, allowing. Nodding “yesss”!!!! and holding my breath. I realized how everything was part of the plan, how I needed my whole journey, even the parts that hurt the most. I understood that one of the biggest shifts of my life happened: I went from trying to make the Bible fit my perception of life to making my life fit the teachings.
I went from seeing it as an “impossible” book that sets “impossible” standards, to a way I want to live every minute of my life. It isn’t just a text I read; it’s the very lens through which I view my life.
Faith is no longer a distant ideal or a hollow obligation. It’s a relationship – dynamic, challenging, and profoundly transformative. It’s the peace that holds me steady in chaos, the courage that guides me through fear, the light the shines in the darkest of nights, and the rest I find when I stop striving to do it all on my own.
Maybe you’re searching, too. Maybe you’re tired, confused, or hesitant to take that next step. I wish I had the perfect recipe that works without exception to share with you. But I don’t. Each story is different. I has to be different. My role here is only to nudge you to take those steps. To encourage you to never give up the search of your soul. To never be afraid of the depth of your heart. To explore. To help you find your own way to the peace you’re craving.
The journey begins not with answers but with the willingness to ask a million questions and challenge the assumptions.
Shared with Love,
Gabriela
I don’t even pretend I KNOW. I write from my experience and from my heart hoping that what I have to share will be the support someone needs on their journey. I reserve the right to be wrong and change my mind as I grow in my own understanding.
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