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I am who I am.

I’m tired of being a closet Christian.

Why should I be embarrassed about my faith? And why should I be in denial about being embarrased, saying ‘Oh, I just don’t want to be that kind of christian’ – What kind of christian? The one that isn’t ashamed to say he/she’s a christian? The one that isn’t a casual christian that goes to church only on Sundays’ to satisfy his/her conscience and believe they’ve done their good deed for the day, then go on living their weekly life like..like..an atheist?

I’d rather be the prude who actually believes and follows God, than that Christian to whom people are like ‘Oh, I didn’t know you were even Christian’ or ‘You’re a cool christian, all the others are weird extremists’, because I’ve come to the conclusion that living in seclusion – no, not only living in seclusion but ‘living life’ and going all Y.O.L.O just defeats the purpose of being saved. I was called out of the world, what business do I have pleasuring myself in it anymore? Can I actually meet this God at the end of my life, and say I’ve been a good and faithful servant after doing what I wanted for myself in life?

I’m tired of other teen Christians like myself judging me for actually practicing my faith, and I foolishly going along with their ideology of what a 21st century christian is supposed to be – If God said he never changes, why should Christianity?
Apparently to them, talking/sharing knowledge of your faith with others is as bad as forcing someone to convert. I have never, and will never force anyone to be a christian, nor force my beliefs on anyone. But if Muslim women openly respect their faith by wearing hijabs, and Buddhists show their faith in non-violence, and even LGBT individuals are slowly being appreciated for being brave in who they are, why is it frowned upon when I also try to stand up and be who I am?

I want to be like Daniel, who when they told him he couldn’t pray to God anymore or he would be killed, quietly went back to his house, opened his window, knelt down facing the direction Jerusalem was in and prayed the only way he knew his God should be prayed to.

I want to be like my mother, who doesn’t care if she doesn’t don herself in jewelry and high-fashion clothes or dye her hair to look her rank in her office, but ties her greying hair in a simple ponytail, wears her long skirts and plain shirts with a plain makeup-less face, but still has the radiant glow of the glory of God to show that she is, indeed, favored in Christ.

From today, I’m content in what I am. I owe my life to no one but Him who loved me before anyone else did.

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