When I was younger, my grandmother often brought me with her to the Catholic Church. It was a familiar place. The songs, the quiet moments, the stained glass, the rhythm of worship. Those memories stayed with me.
I was never Catholic myself. I was never baptized as a baby or received the sacraments. Later in life, I encountered Christ in a Baptist church, where I fell in love with His Word. That was where my faith truly took root.
Last year, I went through one of the hardest seasons of my faith. I wrestled deeply with unbelief. Not because I wanted to walk away from God, but because life had left me with questions I could no longer ignore. Instead of pretending everything was fine, I admitted that my faith was struggling.
That season became one of the reasons I chose to come to Makati. I needed a different environment. I needed room to breathe. More than anything, I needed to seek God honestly instead of forcing myself to appear spiritually strong.
A few months after I arrived, my grandmother came to live with us in Makati. One day, I accompanied her and my aunt's family to church. I wasn't there because I was changing denominations. I simply wanted to worship alongside the people I love.
Something unexpected happened.
As we sang, I encountered God again.
There was no dramatic moment. Just a quiet and unmistakable reminder that He had never left me. The songs reached places in my heart that arguments never could.
Yesterday, I told my grandmother about my season of wrestling with unbelief and how, during that time, God had rekindled my faith.
As she listened, I noticed tears in her eyes.
I don't know exactly what she was thinking, but I imagine it was more than hearing that I had gone to church with her. I think she was grateful to know that, despite everything I had wrestled through, I was still seeking God.
Looking back, I can see God's hand in every chapter of my story.
He used my grandmother to introduce me to reverence.
He used a Baptist church to anchor me in His Word.
He even used my season of doubt to teach me a deeper honesty before Him.
Sometimes we expect God to work only through familiar paths. My journey has taken unexpected turns, yet through every season, He has remained faithful.
Today, my faith is not stronger because I never doubted.
It is stronger because I discovered that even while I was wrestling, God never stopped holding on to me.
--
The photo is mine, it's me and grandma.
Thanks for reading.
