I feel incomplete sometimes. Right now is one of those times. Some other days, I feel complete. Like nothing is missing in my life. Yet I’ve never seen the word “complete” or “incomplete” in a list of emotions or feelings. It’s as if there is a hole inside of me, and I don’t know what is supposed to fill it. God? Ok. God, please fill the void. It’s not fun walking around and feeling like you have an important chunk of you left behind somewhere, missing, lost.

Is this the difference between earth and heaven? On earth, there will always be days when I feel incomplete? Will I only be complete with God? Yes? Then what am I still doing on earth? Why are we all here?

I do not understand Christianity. I do not understand any religion really. I do not quite understand God. Comprehension – this is what I seek most – to understand what I am doing here and why.

I tried going to a church here in Abuja. It wasn’t bad. Everyone, including the pastors, is really young – like under 40. They seemed friendly enough. But each time I went there, I kept feeling out of place. And I just couldn’t understand what they were saying. I understood the words, but not the messages. It’s like everyone else there knows something I don’t. Or are they all just faking it? Like the people in The Emperor’s New Clothes who pretended they could see the emperor’s invisible clothes when there was nothing there? I tried talking to a pastor about my apparent spiritual denseness, and we had some good conversations. Then I realized I liked our conversations a little too much (he’s married, and devastatingly handsome not to mention intelligent); I cut out of there like someone was chasing me. That kind of thing might make a good plot for a telenovela, but no drama in my life please-and-thank-you. I took my questions to a different pastor, but he seemed too busy for me, and while he tried to give me some answers, they only confused me more.

I still have that gaping hole in me. And now I’m crying. Why am I crying? Because I’m sad. Why am I sad? Because I thought all this was supposed to end when God rescued me. God. God, where are You right now? Where are You when I’m sad?

I’m driving now. I don’t know where I’m going but I don’t want to go back home because I know that whatever I’m feeling will be intensified at home. Where do I go? A church? A café? A park? A café – I need to do some work on my computer and my old friend doesn’t have much of a battery life. I know only one café and it’s tear-pocket expensive. So I just keep driving straight, passing several streets, and as I drive, the song Out of Hiding comes on on my mp3 player. It is no coincidence:

Come out of hiding you’re safe here with Me

There’s no need to cover what I already see

You have your reasons yet I hold your peace

And I will illuminate everything.

I loved you before you knew it was love…

I’m safe? I’ve never felt safe before. No, that’s not true; there was a time when I didn’t question my safety, and that time ended just before I turned 11. Since then I’ve been looking over my shoulder, unable to sleep, second-guessing and double-checking, building walls and moats, unable to trust. Now I know what the hole is – a safe place. I don’t have that… or at least I didn’t until some moments ago. You want me to trust You, God? You say that I should believe that You love me? Okay. It’s not like I have (m)any other options. If You say that I am safe with You, then I will take Your Word for it.

And just like that, the tears stop. The void is filled. I am still driving, and I decide to turn right. I drive several meters, and behold, a café I have never seen before. Okay God, I see what You did there…


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