As far as my memory could take me, a bubble trapped me.
A bubble that didn’t know of wrongdoings.
A bubble that only emphasized victories.
A bubble that made Christians seem invulnerable to life’s challenges.
“I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me,” the Sunday school teacher echoed with the class. Known as the Jesus the Healer Filipino Church, this bubble gave me lifelong friends and a unique connection that made me feel invisible. However, because I was born into this church, I never questioned the values taught to me—until I grew up.
I witnessed a merciless world that inflicts trials upon anyone, but I was oblivious to it all. It couldn’t happen to me because I’m different, and God promised a good life. I was wrong. After seeing my mother cry herself to sleep every day for an entire year, and when she broke down, weeping and screaming for her deceased father to come dance with her again, I couldn’t help but experience her pain. Suddenly, I couldn’t do all things through Christ who strengthened me; where was He when I needed Him the most?
“You make it seem like children of God are inherently successful.”
“Others without God seem to be doing way better than me.”
“Failure is inevitable in life,” I affirmed to the people who've convinced me that I would always experience good things.
The teacher stood stunned. After years of attending church, no student challenged the belief embedded in their hearts. He seemed to accept my opinion as he calmly states, “Success to us...is enduring hardships by trusting only good is in store.”
My eyes opened; the bubble wasn’t about where I grew up. It’s a part of who I am. It gives me hope. Pursuing my career as a physician doesn’t promise comfortability and academic ease.
It’s a bubble that is grateful for the smallest victories. And when life topples me with obstacles, I can only look to remain formidable.
It’s a bubble that makes troubles ineffective because I have the resilience, faith, and optimism that I’ll win in the end.
