Love’s Triumph
“Truth or dare?”
“...Truth.”
“Ok. Tell us your deepest, darkest secret.”
I recalled this moment vividly when me and my friends engaged in a game of “Truth or Dare” at the back of the library. I hesitated at the choice as I found myself at a crossroads, torn between two options. Being reluctant to venture into “dare,” I opted for the safer route, “truth.” I chose to be a little vulnerable, yet guarded at the same time. Afterall, I only met these people a few days ago. Nonetheless, I blurted out the initial thought that crossed my mind.
“I’ve never really considered myself attractive.”
Well, that wasn’t a lie.
Yet, it was just the tip of the iceberg. Looks were not the only thing I felt insecure about. Much of my self-worth has historically stemmed from the validation of my family and friends. I developed the ability to adjust, communicate, dress, and behave in a specific way just to assimilate and gain acceptance.
Upon receiving the acceptance letter to join a Christian school in Virginia, I was enveloped with sheer joy. The thought of being immersed in a Christian environment, surrounded by like-minded Christians, engaging actively in prayer, and uplifting one another drew me deeply to this place. As a newborn Christian, I was hopeful that this chapter would be the most enriching experience of my life and that I would have my heart ignited with more passion for Jesus when I left.
Yet, when expectations collided with sobering reality, I realized that the rose-tinted glasses that I’d worn also vanished into thin air, leaving me shards and fragments of crushed glass on the floor.
It was this very place that my heart was torn open, ripped apart, and burned to smithereens.
It was this very place that introduced me to depression, anxiety, and hopelessness.
It was at this very place that I felt the most worthless about myself, on top of my insecurities.
There were many times that I wanted to leave, but I couldn’t, as I was 9,557 miles away from home. Being a broke student, I had to work my way through school for all my student years.
“Not to burst your bubble, but here’s a word to the wise: while this place seems like a beautiful haven, please know that it is occupied by normal, regular people who are prone to making mistakes—even ones that could hurt you.”
Those were the words from one of my good friends as she picked me up from the airport.
As a baby Christian, I was thrown into the deep end of a conservative Christian environment. Before long, I found myself struggling to stay afloat there. I learned that I needed to tread carefully among the opposite gender as I interacted with them. I had to conform to the right attire to fit in, say the right words, and adhere to specific dietary choices…
“Is that… white rice?” A girl exclaimed as she stared at my lunch wide-eyed.
“Yes?” I said.
“Oh my I can’t believe you’re eating white rice! Do you know how bad it is for your health?”
“Uh… I’ve been doing this all my life…”
The sound of silence which ensued between us was loud, coupled with hints of judgment piercing through the air. I vowed never to eat white rice in front of anyone.
Similarly, a new student was mocked by a bunch of seniors for eating ice cream in the cafeteria on his first day.
“What have I gotten myself into?” I thought.
Notwithstanding the rules and going against the tide, I formed close friendships with two guys as we worked closely together in a team. The “no-dating” rule drew attention to our friendship, turning it into an open invitation to scrutiny, unsolicited advice, and constant observation from staff members. Despite our platonic friendship, it felt as though being friends with someone of the opposite gender automatically subjected us to unwarranted attention.
We were college students at this point.
Fast forward, I found myself materializing their worst nightmare. No, I was not involved in any romantic relationship with my peers, but something far more unexpected occurred—I found myself admiring a staff member. It was an admiration that eventually blossomed into something deeper. He was close to my age, exhibited Godliness, and possessed a level of wit that matched mine. On top of that, he demonstrated a level of care for me that went above and beyond the norm. The unfolding event happened so quickly and unexpectedly, like an unforeseen train wreck.
While I grappled with a tremendous sense of guilt in harboring feelings towards Z, I found myself on an island with nobody to turn to for guidance. After all, the staff members had already formed a biased opinion about me. I felt like I had no safe space to seek counsel.
I refused to accept the reality that I’d sunken into this huge mess that I could not get myself out of. What would others think of me now?
Even without these “rules,” my feelings still felt somewhat “unworthy.” Though unspoken, our actions spoke louder than words. I attempted to do what I deemed “right” by avoiding being seen with him too frequently, fearing that my emotions might affect his career.
I was trying my very best.
I was.
Despite my efforts, I was approached by an elderly woman at church. She told me to stay away from him as my friendship would jeopardize his reputation, causing him to be misunderstood by others.
“You don’t want that, do you?”
My thoughts went wild. What did they see in me that was so inherently terrible to the point where I couldn’t even be seen with him? While he sat beside me in church, my immediate thought was to flee from him. I felt embarrassed, coupled with a sense of unworthiness to even harbor admiration towards someone like him.
After all, in this “Christian world” that I lived in, an individual’s worth was intricately tied to their choice of diet, clothing, mannerisms in sitting, walking, talking—above all, their ability to adhere to the strict rules. In other words, if one’s actions aligned with the school’s values, they would automatically earn “brownie points.” Moreover, if one could preach a good, compelling sermon, they were the “golden child,” the “precious one” as they were perceived to be the ones favored and blessed by God.
On the other hand, if one makes a mistake, they would be thwarted in a bottomless pit named “Disgrace”—an unredeemable, unfavorable place. On top of that, in that tight-knit community, information spread across the campus like wildfire. In other words, if someone bears the reputation as a “troublemaker,” breaking free from these preconceived ideas would be an almost impossible task, an arduous effort that often ends up in defeat.
This supposed “Christian” environment was even more ruthless than the so called “dog-eat-dog” world that I came from.
I know, because I fell into the latter category. I was obviously clueless about many unspoken rules and culture. I ate the wrong food in front of my peers and staff members, I told the wrong jokes which invited strange looks from others, I did not adhere to their social cues entirely because I believed that my conscience was clear. Hence, I was seen as someone who carries the title of being “worldly” and “ungodly.”
In other words, I stuck out like a sore thumb…
While people maintained courtesy towards me outwardly, I was aware that a large majority did not genuinely appreciate me as a person. To compound the situation, I was a disciple of their former “golden boy” alumni. Needless to say, me being the way I was turned out to be drastically different from their expectations…
Alas, my friendship with Z swiftly drew everyone’s attention. People tried to counsel me with the apparent goal of discouraging me from pursuing my feelings. Under the guise of “therapy,” I vividly recalled the words of the staff member at the very start of my session, “You’ll have to be honest in the presence of God…” However, this turned into her delving into my private life, posing specific questions about Z fifteen minutes into the session (which had nothing to do with me seeking help as I found myself slowly sinking into depression).
Despite my reluctance, I felt an immense pressure to tell her the truth, which I regretted immediately after. Ultimately, I was told that even if our feelings were mutual, things were impossible between us due to the fact that we were of different races.
The sense of unworthiness plunged into depths that I had never experienced before. This “therapy session” marked the pinnacle point in my life where I felt genuinely worthless as a person based on my race—something I can’t ever change. It became an additional layer of distress to the wounds already inflicted.
The weight of these experiences pushed me into a breaking point, plunging me into deep depression as I could not see any light at the end of the tunnel. I retreated to the confines of the four walls of my tiny room, refusing to engage with anyone. I felt an urgency to go home which intensified as days went by. Waking up felt painful. I lost the will to live. Due to financial constraints, with only 2 dollars in my bank account, I was trapped in the school as I could not afford any plane ticket.
There was no escape.
Why was I even there? Why did I give up the “greener pastures” of finishing my studies at the University of London only to end up here, depressed, hopeless, looked down upon for my identity, for something that I couldn’t change?
Experiences in this “Christian” community left a gaping hole in my heart, as these people’s words and actions further confirmed that I fell short of grace just being the way that I was, despite my best efforts to seek God through my imperfections.
In my grief, I found myself questioning God about my existence, my worth, my life...
“Why did You create me when I am meant to be looked down upon all my life?”
“Is my life a joke?”
“Why am I born the way that I am? Is it wrong to be me?”
“What is the purpose of my life? I’m better off dead.”
I found myself resenting the way I looked, my personality, my outspokenness, my quirks.
I hated myself for just existing.
I remember breaking down in tears at work when my work supervisor noticed my distress. Given the experience with others, I genuinely thought that she would share the same sentiment as them. However, to my surprise, she exhibited a level of compassion that I hadn’t anticipated. Not only did she patiently sit through a series of sobs and tearful revelations about my struggles, but she also empathized with me as she looked at me with pity and love. She reassured me of my worthiness and expressed love for me. She extended invitations to her place and offered assistance with some of the financial hurdles that I struggled with at the time.
She was the guiding light when I dwelled in complete darkness.
It was her compassionate, kind gesture that showed me a glimpse of Christ’s love, assuring me of my value and conveying a sense of being cherished and loved. Through her care, she brought illumination to the shadows within my heart.
“Why did you go to such lengths for me when you knew that I didn’t fit in?” I questioned one day.
“Min, I just have a soft spot for underdogs. Believe it or not, you, in many ways, remind me of myself. We are all human beings, created with inherent value. You are precious and you deserve to be loved.”
Just like that, the thorns and the briers I had placed around my heart to protect myself from getting hurt dissipated. Her words brought a sense of warmth and peace, stopping my thoughts in their tracks as I sought to self-harm.
I gleaned a profound lesson from this experience: genuine, practical Christianity manifests in demonstrating love, mercy, and kindness to others, especially to those whom the society deemed as outcasts. This approach serves as a conduit for revealing God’s love and goodness, bringing His light and warmth to this cold, dark world. Inspired by Mrs. M and all the love she had shown towards me when I felt utterly worthless, I aspired to extend the same the kind of love to others. Her actions and words uplifted my spirits in the darkest time of my life.
I resonated with Mephibosheth as I reflected on his story. He was considered as an underdog in the society he lived in. This man was shunned, and looked down upon—and he even betrayed King David. Despite Mephibosheth’s past, King David demonstrated a commitment to an everlasting love by a covenant that he made towards Jonathan, a type of love (hesed) that seeks the good in another (2 Sam 9:1,3,7). David took him into his fold and honored his promises to Jonathan by seating him at the King’s table. This is the kind of love that mirrors God’s love—a love that meets us where we are, seeks the good in us, and encompasses all our infirmities. It is a transformative love that can even soften the stoniest of hearts and has the power to change and save lives.
Through my own experience, I tasted God’s goodness as He sent someone to demonstrate His love to me in tangible ways. Mrs. M’s words, backed by her actions, served as a channel for this divine love. It is my hope and prayer that I’d be able to pass on this torch of love to others, to be there for the brokenhearted, just like Christ, as “He binds up the brokenhearted and heals their wounds” when we give Him a chance.
