I
was met with a classmate who asked me about Christianity. Events like these don’t
come often, so I was quick to pounce at meeting him.
Not knowing where to start, as I had not talked about the fundamentals of Christianity in a while, I started
blabbering about my life and how I came to believe in Jesus.
Soon
after I stopped talking, he began to share his side of the story, of all the
heartaches and hardships he had endured: financial problems, health problems, family
issues, parent's divorce.
I
was nowhere near the level of understanding his sufferings as I was simply a
spoiled brat, having lived in the comforts of, well, pretty much everything.
He
had mentioned how he once acknowledged God, but could not bear to understand
just why there was so much suffering in the world. He could not believe in the righteous God of whom watches over such disasters before His eyes. It was one of the classic
comments made by non-believers, but as I was sitting right in front of him, I
really had nothing to say to him.
I managed to get his interest when I mentioned how C. S. Lewis had written a
book on the precise issue in The Problem of Pain.
Nevertheless, I
had wanted to tell him to see that there are many good, faithful Christians out
there. I wanted to tell him that life
was still beautiful and meaningful. I wanted to tell him to give God a chance.
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