Faith, Love and Betrayal

There are a few stories within any given life that merits full disclosure. This, I believe for me, is one of them, and all of what I’m about to tell you is unabashedly true. But, to be sure, I wouldn’t expect anyone to follow in my footsteps. Each of us is to be led by the beating purpose of our lives. The following story is mine, and by choosing to be a part of it, I’ve steadily grown to be further understood and exemplified by it. Now, I’ve fully embraced it because it has become a part of who I am, and I’d do nothing else to change it if I realistically could. For what I’ve come to personally know, embodying an authenticity requires digging deep and being gripped in a kind of death, before knowing how to rise from the ashes and live.

Growing up in the suburbs of Michigan, I was raised in a Taiwanese Christian church. My family wasn’t particularly religious then, but I nurtured my faith at quite an early age. The perfection of Christ and his sacrifice felt profound to me, even when I didn't completely understand what that meant. Looking back, if I could articulate what I was seeking from my fervent belief in Christ, it was that I longed for the love and goodness of humanity in myself, and for it to be made known in the world. I equally affirmed this ideal within my friendships and romantic relationships, that people are looking to find a wholeness in other people that they otherwise couldn’t find in themselves. Yes, you should feel whole about yourself as a person, but there are other social ways to foster that wholeness. Having other people learn to understand you can help you to understand yourself, for example, and learning about others can reveal how you would want to understand them. I did find that special wholeness in Christ, as a friend of God, if it’s possible to characterize a relationship that bears no physical connection to the real aspects of life. However, holding onto a belief wasn’t enough. It felt too easy to hear in passing that “God loved me” or that my mother loved me. Anyone can say that so vacuously, in a self-serving manner. What does that really mean? Why me? To love me or someone else? Love felt just as ethereal as my belief in God. You can describe it with a plain exchange of words, but you couldn’t arrive any closer to the truth, because it’s not something that you can explain so matter-of-factly as an important dictum of life. To really understand its importance, you must experience it for yourself, in the only ways that you can know how. After all, religion, friendship, and love are those sorts of human experiences that are unique to each person, and no such sweeping generalizations can counteract how ineffable those experiences really are.

But returning to the question of love, I longed for that innate connection in other people, in people who aren’t afraid to open themselves to the world, just as I was willing to do. Within the church, I found a deep friendship from someone among my peers who was a year younger. Our families grew to know each other somehow, as we both have just moved into our respective neighborhoods, just like the other immigrant families within the church, in seek of better opportunities. Though I had an older brother, he was like a younger brother to me, and we did everything together. When I was beginning to learn how to play piano when I was around 5, he followed suit. When I was beginning to learn how to play tennis when I was around 9, he did the same. We shared the same tennis coaches for years and would practice countless hours with each other at the tennis club. We played the same video games, watched the same shows, read the same books, and had similar interests in chess and mathematics. Because we went to the same church and the same schools, we shared a similar circle of friends and relatively attended the same parties. When he briefly moved to Connecticut during his Sophomore year, I was the only one within the church that visited him and listened to his anxieties about living somewhere new. When it came to competitions or academics, we were also rivals. He wanted to prove that he was always better than me, in athletics, in music, or in grades. I didn’t care that much to prove my superiority over him as his senior, but I didn’t want to lose either. We developed a close brotherhood within this rivalry throughout high school. It was only after that we went to separate universities where it became more difficult to keep in touch, not that it would greatly erode our sense of friendship however.

At the same time within high school, another very important person came into my life during my senior year. A pivotal year of exploration, I began attending other churches and been trying to break out of my shell. Though I made a good number of friends throughout my school years, I felt that I should reach out to more people, at least within the faith community. And I did. I attended Korean churches, other Chinese churches, multicultural churches, and other nondenominational churches. If I was invited to an event, I would go regardless of who was attending. I invited friends to join me in these outings too, if they were interested to join. In any case, I didn’t want to live so shyly as a teenager who couldn’t represent himself in some way. Connections could be made at any given opportunity.

On one fateful night on the week of Thanksgiving, I had a dream that I attended a Chinese church, a place where I once used to learn Mandarin in the basement rooms. It felt like an odd premonition, but I didn’t make much of it. That following weekend, I was invited to "Turkeybowl", an annual football tournament that was held between all the local churches. I went, despite the fact that I didn’t really play football, and subbed in for an injured player for another church team. After the matches between the churches ended, the guys that I played with invited me out to join them for their Saturday youth group. And how could I say no? I rode with someone that I just got acquainted with and followed him inside the church doors. As I entered the lounge where the nightly youth group was to take place, it suddenly dawned on me that I was reliving the dream that I had days ago. Whether or not that it could be argued I was psychologically determined to follow a self-fulfilling prophecy, explanations of that sort don’t matter to me. The fact that I was foretold to experience a dream in real-time holds special meaning to me. Little would I know that that night would prove to be one of the most important nights of my life.

As many teenagers started to trickle into the lounge, I became bold enough to acquaint myself with everyone that was present. There was no one that I didn’t greet. Though I met many guys and girls on a first-name basis, one girl stood out to me in a way. She seemed shy with her glasses and quiet eyes, but as I began to talk with her, I felt that she was loud and obnoxious but weirdly funny. I’ve always felt that she was annoying but in an endearing way. Every time I attended the youth group on the following weekends, I would make more attempts to talk with her; I didn’t want to make her feel out of place, as someone who I saw as a friend. I wasn’t that interested in her then, as I did have other girls chasing after me, just as I was chasing other girls too—all that typical high school drama. However, as strange as life can be, she would become the love of my life. Even now, I can’t quite explain why I fell deeply in love with her, if I were to compare her to other girls I’ve been with. My love for her just so happened to be, in all of its nuance and complexities.

Years later, I would attend law school in Indiana. My first year had just finished, yet I was unfulfilled in where I was, academically and personally. I couldn’t bear to find myself slaving away at some firm, filing cases, and representing clients at the courts. In being honest with myself, I only attended because it was the financially responsible thing to do following a degree in philosophy, after some wasted years of being uncertain with what I wanted to do in life. I didn’t want to disappoint my parents, though I felt that I’d already disappointed them. It’s because I felt alone in how my life was panning out, like a leaf drifting in the wind. But the good news is that I found a different calling: I couldn’t deny my affinity for people, and the passion I have for attending to their wellbeing. Through this unexpected venture, I desired to be a therapist.

Before my summer internship, I returned to Michigan to attend a friend’s wedding. For lunch, I coincidentally bumped into the girl that I first met so many years ago. I called out her name, and she went absolutely ballistic, in shock to see me after so long. There was something novel about her this time. Perhaps, it was the way that her eyes gleamed with excitement or the joyfulness of her voice. Whatever especially drew her to me, I simply knew that she was a breath of fresh air. Her youthfulness was radiant, in contrast to my sinking feelings of unfulfillment. We quickly exchanged numbers and went about our ways. I’ve never forgotten that moment since, in how uncanny it felt. After that day, I sent her a couple of messages, but I didn’t entertain the thought of going further in conversation. She was in a relationship with her then-boyfriend, while I was caught in the limbo of taking on a soul-crushing internship for resume-building purposes. As I’ve believed in faith before, I held onto the principle that all good things happen in time.

During the end of the summer, I also took a wonderful trip to visit my close friend in Washington D.C. and acquaint him with another law school friend that transferred to a school there. He hosted me and took me to a couple of places to sight-see, while I went on my own as well to see other notable tourist destinations of the nation’s capital.

After resettling back in Michigan and figuring out the next steps towards becoming a therapist, a new resurgence of belonging was developing within me. I was returning home, to familiar places and old friends, but I felt alien. My faith in God had waned; I still seemed lost in purpose; I lacked clarity in where I was heading. Some of the friends that I once could count on had moved onto better things. I yearned for that same sense of community, but I didn’t know exactly where to find it. Fortunately, as news had spread around in the small-knit networks of Asian communities, a couple of people reached out to gauge my interest in attending different local church functions or events. I had nowhere else to go, so I made every attempt again to reinsert myself into these religious circles. At the same time, my close friend who I visited in D.C. invited me to attend a virtual bible study with him. It didn’t seem strange then that bible studies would be conducted virtually, even in those pre-covid days. I frequently attended those sessions with him and another study partner, in good faith that I could rekindle a love in the world again, or something akin to that.

The church gatherings and bible studies did help and motivate me to go out of my way to revisit old passages of scripture, make new friends, or rebuild the bonds of former friends. However, I couldn’t quite shake the steep feelings of emptiness that burdened me for many nights. Nothing I’ve tried could clear the air, so to speak, as in every morning, a dense, inescapable thickness loomed over me. Is my life going to be permanently in transition? Boarding onto one train-ride after another with no actual destination in sight? I’ve already made plenty of mistakes before in terms of planning out a career path, as my father reminds me, so how is this newly discovered alternative to be any different? How would I be able to tell that this is it, that this is the way to become someone and make my mark upon the world?

With nowhere else to turn, I messaged the lovely girl that I reconnected with that past summer on Thanksgiving. The connection between us was so instant that I felt compelled to take her out that Thanksgiving weekend, which is remarkably on the very same day that I met her, exactly a decade later. She would later confess to me on the date, over a bowl of Pho, that it was also her first time attending that church too and thought that I was a member of that church because of how openly welcoming I was. I told her that I wasn’t, and I only went along with my instincts and first impressions. In fact, out of all the people that I came to know from the youth group, she was the only one that I miraculously was able to stay in touch with, despite the fact that she isn’t really all that religious. She attended then because a friend invited her out to check something new or meet new people. But regardless of her confessions, I could see in her that her sense of spirituality is uniquely the same as mine. Her heart is tender, and her sense of wonder is inspirational. She wanted to belong, to feel like her life could mean something. We longed for the same things because, as I would later discover, we grew up similarly, and we shared a nostalgia in the innocence of the past. Even upon such coincidences, I couldn’t deny my feelings for her. I knew I had to take this opportunity to be with her, as things have recently ended with her ex-boyfriend. From that day on, we couldn’t stop talking. On the rides to class or from work, we’d instantly call and see each other at every opportunity.

Our relationship steadily grew throughout the following month, and we officially became a couple in December. Though everything felt novel and new like any budding romance, I could see myself marrying her, and I hadn’t felt that way about anyone before. However, I didn’t want to rush into doing anything I would later regret. In early February, before the panic of pandemic quarantines, she asked me if I would marry her. I would love to—eventually—of course. But I refused her request then, on the basis that love and trust takes time to build. Feelings are fleeting, in how they solely lack a foundation for mutual growth and understanding. After all, I want to prove to her that I’m worth the wait, and that any man worth his salt should claim responsible ownership over creating and sustaining a new family. I knew that I wasn’t ready to be a husband; I had only just discovered my purpose and was anxiously ready to plunge into the unknown, wherever the road of becoming a therapist would take me.

From the unprecedented rise in relationship conflicts, the pandemic also gave us pause— in a different way however. While in-person bible studies and church gatherings halted to a stop, I continued attending the virtual sessions with my close friend, as their bible studies have now moved into a group setting. They also had gotten to be longer and more extensive in their study, which is oddly peculiar for a bible study. Three times a week, I would sit facing a screen for three hours, listening to these long-winded lectures, as my girlfriend would patiently wait for me to finish. My close friend would then make follow-up calls with me, talking only about biblical matters, out of some duty to continually reinstate the good will that he’ll always be there for me if I somehow struggled with spiritual doubts or harbored personal issues that warrant a close examination. It all felt forced and inauthentic. This wasn’t the brother that I came to know throughout the years, and I was also beginning to be skeptical about the doctrine that they were teaching in these sessions. Even when I did confide in him about these concerns, out of sheer honesty, he simply dispelled them as though they needed no further discussion. Was he always this unrelentingly dismissive and close-minded? For someone as intelligent as he was, wouldn’t he, at least, be open to the respectful discourse and banter that we used to have as kids? What the hell happened? Did marriage cause him to be this way? Or maybe it was all the anxiety fueled by the pandemic? I couldn’t put my finger on it then, but talking to him became unbearable.

My girlfriend was expressing concerns to me that I was spending less time with her, which is a fair concern. My mother, equally, was getting in the way of our relationship because of how controlling and overbearing she can be, with how she wants to dictate the means of what an ideal relationship should look like for me. As if she would understand what love really means for her, when she couldn’t save her own marriage. Yet, I knew in some ways, both my girlfriend and mother were right about something that was brewing within me. Understanding who I was then, I couldn’t stand on my own and bear the brunt of interpersonal problems. I had mounting insecurities, tipping in the balance, between who I should be and who other people wanted me to be. I was drowning in the fear that I would lose everything, because it certainly felt like the world around me was collapsing besides.

In the thick of the quarantine, my girlfriend and I grew closer in trust. There was no one else we could candidly speak to. She was my confidante and best friend. Yet, it’s true that vulnerability comes with its risks, its flaws and all. I couldn’t hide the fact that I was being strangled in the tensions that have accumulated between me and the important people around me. I was becoming more hostile and uncompromising. I reasoned that both my mother and girlfriend lacked the sensibility to know themselves as well as I do. They were both spoiled, I thought, in how they only made demands and never sought to empathize with what I was dealing with.

After many sleepless nights, I discerned that my close friend lied to me from the start, about the fact that it was his first time attending the bible studies. No, he was already groomed as a member and was attempting to recruit me, lying through his teeth that he was a part of some regular church. He was trapped in a cult, to which his wife and her family kindly invited him in. He already had made attempts to recruit his family back home, as it turned out. His parents abandoned him, deemed him a lost cause. I also learned of stories from other members, how they dropped their “earthly” dreams or pursuits, in hopes of living eternally with whom they believe is essentially the incarnation of Christ. My close friend gave up his dream career to follow this awful doctrine, wasting his life in the shackles of a duty-bound lie, in all the mechanical ways to churn an expendable, obedient machine out of a decent man. When I found all this out, I couldn’t believe in my heart that this was happening, to him of all people. It doesn’t matter what society espouses to be the pinnacle of a well-lived life and centered at the heart of humanity—being married, having kids or a fulfilling job, being happy, or being filthy rich, or having many friends. None of that matters, none of it, if there’s no truth to stand upon. No self-made meaning underlying the worth of a human in what this life has to offer him or her. The tragedy is that he blissfully tells me that these teachings have given him all the happiness he needs. Among other such insufferable tragedies, living a lie is one of them. In my opinion, it’s worse than death.

Again, with no one to turn to, I confide in my girlfriend: “What would you do if, say, you found out your best friend was trapped in a cult?” She tells me: “Well… I would do anything to bring them out… but I can’t say that I would know what to do for you. If they lied to me, I’d cut them out of my life. They’re done.” She had every reason to be protective of herself; friends, especially past boyfriends, have betrayed her before with their thinly veiled lies. But I had the conviction that I couldn’t simply give up on my close friend. Perhaps, through the powers of reason and friendship, could I eventually get to him. I forged on, attending these sessions in the mission to write down everything they taught and dismantle their doctrine for his sake. Should have I gone to those lengths to save someone I count as a brother? Others have warned me that he’s not worth saving. After all, my future was caught in between the perils of a relationship in jeopardy and a friend lost in his twisted faith. I had to try, because I would regret it if I didn’t, at least, believe he could be redeemed somehow. I loved him as a brother, and I had to lay my life down for him.

From July to the end of September, I was restless and equally losing grip of myself. The longer it took to reason with him to the end, the further I felt distanced from my girlfriend. She was getting impatient, in my lack of initiative to take our relationship to the next level; I was becoming more overbearing towards her. I loved her and gave my life for her, yet it didn’t seem that I nurtured the foundation to protect her. It wasn’t my job to fix her like I was her therapist, and I barely loved myself besides. Because regardless of the excuses I made about needing to save this friend or being swamped in the uncertainty of the future, I knew that I was the problem. With one last fight about my mother being a pain in the ass, everything went downhill from there. I had a last confrontation with my close friend, sharing all the arguments that I compiled to reason with him. He didn’t budge and believed that I was, ironically, the lost cause. In the months following the break-up and the loss of my close friend, I wept like a child. What could I do at this point? I couldn’t control myself because I hadn’t found the means to find security in myself. I honestly had no one to blame but myself. Even if it’s true that the circumstances I underwent were incomparable, they’re not to be used as an excuse that life is strictly unfair. They’re meant to bring the best out of us, to test how people can withstand life’s many tribulations.

However, as the story continues on, I grew to find myself. But it didn’t quite end in just heartache for me. As this past year came around, I felt exploited and betrayed once more, in how one of my former friends came to enter into a relationship with my ex-girlfriend, who knew of my situation. I wasn’t disturbed by how she was in another relationship, briefly following mine. It’s a natural thing for people to do, to again seek that sense of wholeness in someone else. It was that this friend lacked the integrity and maturity to even confront me about it. You can easily judge the character of a man based on how he acts. Had he done so, I would give all the respect that he could deserve. Jealousy and narcissism consumed him.

It was all wrong in how it all developed, and I knew quickly that she, too, was living a lie. I didn’t have to look further to know this for myself, given that I knew them both as people. They got married in a span of a month, though they hid it from our friends. But ever since I figured that out too, I had aching dreams of their demise. For the times that she would call me on her off-hours from work, I couldn’t deny that she was going to have to learn the truth the hard way. I couldn’t see someone that I deeply love lose themselves in the folds of a desperate codependency. You might think that it isn’t my responsibility to tell what’s wrong with their relationship, and it isn’t. However, I can’t help but speak the truth when it needs to be said. Perhaps, that’s the therapist within me that is always roaring to come out. Apart from all the small ways that she wanted to prove to me that she found her “other half”, I responded by telling her that she would be disappointed and dead in the end. The breakup would devastate her. But I know now that I don’t need to do much more than to stand on my own. She must face the consequences of her own actions, just as I’ve faced mine.

After the tortuous months of watching their relationship fail, I kept in touch with her. And finally, around the end of September, they did break apart. I could care less about the breakup, in the issues evident within a broken relationship dynamic or the weakness of a fragile and lamentable man. I could care less, as well, on how other friends may have interpreted the situation. What I solely cared about was her loss of identity. She told me that she lost interest in most things and in herself. She lost her trust and her wholehearted wonder in people. However, what good that came out of this tragedy is that she understands now what it means to change as a person. Maturity comes from dwelling, then learning to overcome the worst of us. If anything, I’m proud of her that she has come to learn that, even in her dastardly own way. In the end, we still yearn for each other, but we know that there’s a timing to everything. I never lost my faith in her either way. My faith in humanity and in God has flourished, for whatever it’s worth. Though I’ve yet to hear from my close friend, I also have faith that he’ll return too.

Although my story is not yet over, I recount it as a way to inspire people to never relent in their path of self-discovery. I’ve learned about true love and loyalty through the testimony of my experiences. Similarly, there’s never an experience that could seem too difficult to be conquered. As long as you are true to yourself and can accept yourself without compromise, you give yourself all the reasons that you can stand strong against the odds and anything that opposes your way.