This Good Friday, I find myself sitting with a mix of gratitude, reflection, and honesty.
For a long time, I have felt skeptical about the church, not faith itself, but the structures around it. The rules, the expectations, the way guilt can sometimes be imposed when one does not conform. It never sat right with me. Faith, to me, should not feel like pressure or fear.
And yet, despite all that, my belief in Jesus and God has never left me.
Because my faith has always been something deeply personal.
I believe God lives within me, not confined to a building, not dictated by rules, but present in my heart, in my thoughts, in my quiet moments. It is a relationship, not an obligation.
Today, I am grateful for Jesus, for His sacrifice on the cross, for choosing love, forgiveness, and redemption for humanity. That act, to me, is not about religion, but about the purest expression of compassion and grace.
But as I reflect, I also feel a quiet sadness.
Looking at the world today, at the wars and conflicts where God’s name is used to justify harm, it feels like the very message of love has been twisted. It makes me wonder how something so sacred can be used in such a way.
I pray that Christ did not die in vain.
I pray that humanity remembers what His sacrifice truly stood for, not division, not power, not control, but love, humility, and peace.
Even in the presence of darkness, I choose to believe that goodness still exists. That light still exists. That God still lives in each of us, quietly guiding us back to compassion.
This Good Friday, I am not perfect in faith, nor certain in all beliefs.
But I am grateful.
Grateful for a God who meets me where I am.
Grateful for a faith that is mine to hold, question, and grow.
Grateful for the enduring hope that love will always be stronger than evil.
And I will continue to hold on to that.
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