I was born in a Christian cradle. It was a beautiful thing wrought from the silver words of the Bible and blanketed in soft hymns sung on Sunday mornings. At night when I slept, angels sat at the foot of my cradle and strummed their golden lyres, their sweet music keeping evil spirits well at bay. Before I could walk, I found myself wrapped tightly in my mother’s arm while our Pastor preached powerfully from atop an altar. As soon as my chubby legs could support me, I was led to this altar and instructed to fall to my knees and pray. As a small child, I wasn’t exactly sure what to pray about. In fact, I didn’t know how to pray at all. Instead, I buried my face in the nook of my arm and peeked at the others from beneath my lashes. My fellow churchgoers certainly knew how to pray, for most wept openly and ardently as they lifted their tear-stained faces to the heavens and cried out to a Father who knew them, who recognized their struggles and their pain, and who would surely reward them with sweet, eternal paradise come the end of all times. It was a frightening sight for a child to observe, but I quickly came to recognize the beauty in prayer. It was there in the music of the congregation’s unified voices, a euphony rising and falling to the beat of handful of exalted hearts.
By: Dania Quezada
I was born in a Christian cradle. It was a beautiful thing wrought from the silver words of the Bible and blanketed in soft hymns sung on Sunday mornings. At night when I slept, angels sat at the foot of my cradle and strummed their golden lyres, their sweet music keeping evil spirits well at bay. Before I could walk, I found myself wrapped tightly in my mother’s arm while our Pastor preached powerfully from atop an altar. As soon as my chubby legs could support me, I was led to this altar and instructed to fall to my knees and pray. As a small child, I wasn’t exactly sure what to pray about. In fact, I didn’t know how to pray at all. Instead, I buried my face in the nook of my arm and peeked at the others from beneath my lashes. My fellow churchgoers certainly knew how to pray, for most wept openly and ardently as they lifted their tear-stained faces to the heavens and cried out to a Father who knew them, who recognized their struggles and their pain, and who would surely reward them with sweet, eternal paradise come the end of all times. It was a frightening sight for a child to observe, but I quickly came to recognize the beauty in prayer. It was there in the music of the congregation’s unified voices, a euphony rising and falling to the beat of handful of exalted hearts.
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By: Guillermo Hernandez
Life is a gift. I know that. Dust is what will become of my body, but not of my soul. God doesn’t make imperfect things and in the beginning man was blameless and eternal. He was given free will and he deliberately chose to disobey. As a result, the relationship between man and God was severed and man’s eternal life and innocence was lost. The original sin--disobedience of God’s will--blemished all of humanity. The entirety of the Old Testament tells of humanity attempting to mend its relationship with God as well as cleanse its spiritual blemishes, but always falling short. The Law--the 10 commandments--was sent by God in order to guide his people, and according to the law the punishment for sin is death. Humanity tried to follow it, but it always stumbled on its path, and thus sacrifices were offered to try to mend what was broken and to cleanse what was stained. But God was not pleased and he had loved humanity so much that out of love he sent a bridge between man and God. He sent Jesus. The only person who could sustain the entirety of God’s wrath, the only person who could be able of living a blameless life, and the only person who would be willing to give up his life for humankind. He sent His own son to die, to pay the ultimate price, and to mend the bond between man and Himself. |
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