A while ago, I posted something about how I felt like I was slowly losing my faith, even falling into extreme skepticism and atheism. Now, several months later, that inner doubt hasn’t completely disappeared. My spiritual life is no longer as fervent as it once was—there’s no going back. Returning to that passionate state of faith feels irreversible.
Even so, some recent personal experiences have made me feel the unique way God works in each individual. For a long time, I tried to fix my doubts by doing something myself, until my life hit a low point and I was on the verge of collapse. I realized I had no way out. The only thing left I could think of to rely on was God. In the end, my faith was miraculously forced into this state: “I have no choice but to believe, because there is nothing behind me.”
That kind of reliance sounds a lot like the prodigal son in the Bible, doesn’t it? But it truly turned around many of my doubts and confusions. I came to see that if doubts and questions only serve to tempt or undermine—rather than encourage me to keep learning—they mostly just make me feel down and stuck in life. So I had to let them go.
What also helped turn things around was reading many old spiritual classics, such as The Imitation of Christ, The Spiritual Combat, the works of St. Thérèse of Lisieux, St. Teresa of Ávila, and others. Also, even though I doubted God, deep down I firmly believed in the Beatitudes. I was drawn to their purity and mercy—they are not a principle of this world, but God’s own principle, truly His voice. So eventually, I shifted to a supernatural perspective and gradually let go of worldly analyses and studies based on values like exchange of resources and benefits.
Another experience: because I was emotionally rich at that time, I posted many articles online about my feelings and experiences, and also did some summarizing (e.g., how young people can face anxiety and the increasing hardships of life). Unexpectedly, these posts went viral—hundreds of thousands of views, likes, and saves. People said my articles helped them cope with life and ease their anxiety. I was astonished. I’m not an optimistic or strong person by nature; I just wrote honestly about my feelings, yet it encouraged many people, especially young people going through similar things.
Listening to their anxiety, confusion, and pain, I deeply felt that without my faith and God, I could never have endured what they’re going through—many of them have it much harder than me. I began to realize that there are many other young people in this world who are in even more difficult situations, yet they’re strong, relying on their own strength. It’s so hard for them. At least I have the Church and my faith; even without community life, I can rely on this faith to survive spiritual lows.
Later, a journalist from a top domestic magazine noticed me. She thought my articles were very insightful, especially the parts about “how to discern.” I thought to myself—this is really the result of all that spiritual and psychological formation I received in the Church over the years, plus all the spiritual reading I did. And I began to realize that I had truly entered a phase of modern evangelization. In our atheistic country, religious activities are still relatively restricted. But I don’t blame my country for that. On the contrary, this kind of modern evangelization is actually a good way to train myself.
So during that time, I used secular, contemporary language to convey the ideas of the Gospel—especially the Beatitudes, which I deeply believe in—to many people, including journalists, and to the young people in our country.
I am deeply moved that God placed a conscience within every human heart. When I started this modern evangelization, I saw that people already have an inner foundation of conscience—justice, fairness, supporting the weak—only they see it as just “being a decent person.” But I saw in them the image of God, the likeness of our Creator.
Because of that article and the coverage, and thanks to the internet, I gathered a small community of about seventy young people, 98% of whom are non-believers. We organize our own reading groups and support each other’s psychological growth. In the future, we hope to help more anxious, confused young people. With the global economy slowing down, young people in developing countries face a shortage of jobs—leading to various social problems. Meanwhile, material life is comfortable, but many people feel spiritually empty.
In my community, we still adhere to the teachings of the Beatitudes. We prioritize the most vulnerable, the weak, the confused, even those in material difficulty—because I believe these are the ones God favors. So I tilt more resources toward them. Even if they’ve temporarily lost motivation or messed up their lives, all I do is encourage and guide them, never reject them. And I believe that helping a weak person today is helping myself, because none of us can guarantee we’ll always be strong or never need others. Above all, I sincerely thank God for giving me this opportunity to serve, to step out of the parish and into real social practice.
Finally, I also want to share this: In the past, in parish and community life, the God we encountered was the universal God—teaching us to forgive each other, to love one another, etc. Merciful, just, kind… All of that is true, of course—God is indeed merciful, just, and kind. But that is the God others taught us. God’s personal work and shaping in each person is truly unique and very different.
In the early stages of faith, we believe God is merciful and just. Then when life goes wrong, we start to question Him—because our understanding of God hasn’t yet entered into that unique, one-on-one relationship. We still have in mind the universal God: “Since He is just, why doesn’t He help me? Why am I suffering?”
But we forget that God is the potter. His creation and plan for each person is different. Some learn about Him through suffering, some through happiness, some through relationships, some even through their own sin. At that point, God has a one-on-one relationship with us. And it is precisely the building of this one-on-one relationship that constitutes the merciful and just God we believe in.
Back when I was in the parish, I was considered a rather individualistic person. I thought: since God proclaims the Beatitudes, I’ll practice them in the parish. But I wasn’t very welcome. My voice wasn’t accepted. Some thought I was too idealistic and escaping reality. Instead, people in the church began preaching prosperity theology, philosophy, success psychology, interpersonal resources and value exchange, exaggerating the role of psychology, desperately mixing worldly things into their evangelization for fear of being left behind by the times. Not every parish is like this, I’m sure, but in my own parish I saw the same anxiety I’d seen in those young people—the fear of not keeping up and being discarded. The result was something that was neither sacred nor secular. In the end, it was outside in society—using modern, simple language to convey the truths of the Gospel—that I found people who were tolerant and harmonious. They were anxious, but their thinking was pure, and they were eager for truth. They were already tired of success psychology,utilitarian values, job pressure, and so on.
This, to me, has been a major revelation and lesson. It has shown me what the young people in my country truly need. And it has made me reflect: Is the Church progressing while conserving tradition, or chasing worldly trends while paying lip service to tradition? For myself personally, given my answer right now and the foundation of my thought, which is deeply rooted in ancient spirituality, I choose the former.