Hope shines in the dark

I was born and brought up in a Christian family where going to church every Sunday was a compulsion and memorising Bible verses was the norm. Initially, I did it all like a good child, but when the reality of things began to strike me, I fell away. I started to hate every ritual and tradition in the name of God.

I would go to church every Sunday, but it was all to please my mother, who would otherwise spoil my weekend with taunts. A mentally abusive family, a church (I would prefer to call it an organisation) which was all about money and power, and a neighbourhood which was all about comparing each other's kids.

Life was not easy as a kid. But back then, I thought it was all my fault, or at least I was made to feel that way. However, I decided quite early to be a rebel in these places. I would not clap my hands or worship when they asked me to, nor would I greet older people whom I didn't like.

Life was going on this way when some terrible things began to spiral. One of which was constant fights between my parents. My little brain was not smart enough to put anything into perspective. I began spiralling within my own self. My grades began to go down, and I would spend hours alone in my room. Once I tried telling my mother about what was happening to me, she refused to believe.

My faith in God, which was already not in a great place, began dwindling. However, I still spent time praying in my room some days when I didn't know what else to do. I wanted an escape from the environment in my house, and also something that was happening in the background. I began watching TV for hours, and then just slept for an extended time. I couldn't see the light at the end of the tunnel.

The only other place that could be a respite was always turning out to be a nightmare - my school. My Math teacher hated me because of my grades. The classmates also weren't very supportive or friendly. I wanted to just run away somewhere.

My daily routine was to somehow drag myself to school and then come back and sleep for extended hours. I would wake up late in the evening and then just blindly watch all Hindi serials and movies. Eat dinner and then go back to sleep.

Amidst all this, I was seated with a boy in my class who began to trouble me. He would make random comments. I tried telling my class teacher, but as she was my Math teacher also, she didn't agree. The only other being I knew I could tell this to was God. So I did. I even went for prayers for a few days because I was so tormented in this situation. The next day, I went to my class and my seat was changed, and you won't believe that guy never came with us to the next class, he flunked. That was my first experience with my God, who hears prayers.

Next was three years later when I gave my 12th-grade exams. Math was still a huge problem for me. I doubted if I would even pass my exam. Having an elder brother who was a topper made things worse for me. I prayed the night before my exam because I knew I had attempted 50% of the paper, and for me to pass, there needed to be a miracle.

I prayed the whole night. The next morning, I got my results and I found out that I passed my Math paper with 44 or 41 marks. I was relieved. So was my mother, who would have disowned me if I failed. That was the second time I ever realised that Jesus is a God who does care for me.

After these instances, I began to realise that maybe God is not how these traditional places or people project him to be. Maybe he is different. I started to pursue this God in my own way.

However, my next encounters with how this God works will remain stamped in my heart. I was working as a journalist for a leading news portal in South India, and I had to cover the Chennai floods, 2015.

I was a rookie fresh out of college, and all the experience I had was working as an intern. But I still decided to take it on. No vehicles were ready to take us through the flooded road. So, the only option I had was to start walking and reporting from different places. And if I got a bus on the way, nothing like it. Things were getting bad. There was knee-deep water wherever we were going. There was no electricity or water supply at home.

On one end, life was going from bad to worse with water levels increasing every day and no electricity. The city was moving towards darkness. I began to see the favour of God in my life. I walked in knee-deep water, which was black in colour, not knowing what was below it, but never once had an infection or an injury. There were days when I didn't know if I would even come back home, but I did.

One day, I lost my wallet on the bus. I had no money to get back home. And unfortunately, I had to walk up to a bridge which was overflowing terribly, and I did. While coming back after walking for 5-6 km, an auto driver agreed to drop me home. I would always be indebted to that person. He refused to take a penny from me. That's not all. I got a call in the evening, and a woman wanted to return my purse. I couldn't be happier.

Now, those journalism days are something I will never forget. Once, I went to a coastal area to do a story on how a new port would become a problem for the fishing community. People mistook me for someone who was from the government and came to attack me and my cameraman. Thankfully, a Catholic priest sheltered us after checking our identities and got us out through the back door of his church. Now no one can tell me that this was not a favour of God.

My life has had many such tragic situations, but one thing I can say is that my God has been good to me. He has heard my prayers and fulfilled the smallest of my desires. So all I can say in a line is that Jesus saves, and I have a beautiful life because of him. And the biggest prayer that has ever been answered is having my own family - a place where today I feel loved and respected. So if someone is going through the most difficult of times, I would want to say hold on because God is seeing it and he will take you out of there in time.