SUBMISSION. Fall 2016 | Page 26

what i know about the wind Kathy Luo ?PMV1_I[\PQZ\MMV1[IQLUaÅZ[\OMV]QVMXZIaMZ[ \W/WLQVZM[XWV[M\W\PZMM\PQVO["[]‫ٺ‬MZQVOOZILM[ arguing parents, and a boy. Looking back, I would not call any of these prayers particularly eloquent or worshipful. They were awkward, confused, and WN\MVUQ[O]QLML_PQKP_I[Å\\QVOJMKI][MT_I[ also awkward, confused, and misguided. Nonetheless, that was the simple way my faith began. A few months later, I was baptized, never happier to be dunked in a tub of water in my life. When I emerged from the water, there was music, applause, and a sense of certainty. What was there left to fear? My grades had improved, summer was about to begin, and I had literally just been welcomed into the family of God. His word was my shield, His promises were my peace. I couldn’t imagQVMM^MZNMMTQVOTQSM\PI\_I[QV[]‫ٻ‬KQMV\*]\IN\MZ changing out of my dripping robe and ascending the stage for an endless series of group photos, I felt I[\ZIVOMLZIN\ÆW_IKZW[[UaLIUX[UQTQVOKPMMS The wind blows. When I was sixteen, I learned that our enemies fall into two categories: the seen and unseen. The seen, ]VLMZ_PQKP[]‫ٺ‬MZQVOOZILM[IZO]QVOXIZMV\[IVL IJWa_W]TLNITT_MZM\PQVO[1SVM_PW_\WÅOP\ against. I could look to God for strength. I could pray for peace, for wisdom, and for calm amidst turbulent thoughts. But how was I to pray for the unseen? How was I supposed to pray about nothing? The only name I can give it is apathy. It came over me silently and unassumingly, in a way not many 26 Fall 2016 miserable things do. Only its symptoms proved its existence: a lack of emotion, a lack of passion, a lack of desire to do anything. It wasn’t only happiness, excitement, or anticipation-- I even had trouble remembering how to feel sad or angry. Each day began to blend into the next in a predictable, listless blur. All the while, I was a “Christian.” As time passed, I realized that I had not thought about God for days, then weeks, then months. I used to believe that I lived for Him. Now, I barely lived at all. I wanted that to startle me. I wanted alarms to OWW‫[ٺ‬QZMV[\WJTIZMUM\W[\IZ\NMMTQVO[WUM\PQVO even fear, to shake me from my haze. But even then, it was all mechanical. I wanted because I knew it was the correct way to feel, not because I remembered what it felt like to want anything. ,]ZQVO\PW[MUWV\P[Ua*QJTMTIaWV\PMÆWWZ beside my bed like a bad conscience. It went untouched and undesired, covered by textbooks, pens, and empty bowls I didn’t have the energy to wash. The wind blows. Occasionally, doubts and questions ran through my head. Could God dare to love one who had once prayed to him earnestly, and now questioned His will, His plan, His existence? I searched for the fervor I felt at the beginning of my faith, the fearless belief that made me say “Yes, I do,” in a warm, still tub of water. But my attempts were weak, and the enemy was strong. Day after day, I stumbled out of bed with goosebumps, trembled in the shower, and waited for the school bus in a dark, bitter cold. The only good thing about apathy is that it is cyclical-- as much as it seems inescapable, it also ends as mysteriously as it comes. If I had to name a particular moment in which I started feeling better, I think I was sitting in church one Sunday, eating a donut from the welcome table, and looking forward to grabbing another. This would not be anything