Is it Delulu or is it faith?

I've always found it hilarious that once upon a time, I was a child, excited and wishing to finally

be a grown-up — to have freedom, my own money, and my own space. Little did I know that

those would be some of the least problematic moments of my life. Having faith as a child felt

like hearing the school bell ring, skipping out of a chaotic 3:00 pm classroom, and knowing

with certainty that someone who cared about you was waiting to take you home. Having faith

as an adult feels like a Marvel movie battleground, where we are, of course, the heroes — our

own heroes — and the villains are the very things that make life difficult.

I once read about a painter named Vincent van Gogh — it’s only fitting that I became

immediately obsessed with him. Van Gogh painted, and painted, and painted. He was

discouraged but kept painting, was depressed but kept painting, was heartbroken but kept

painting. He kept painting and sold only one painting in his lifetime, to his friend, for $80 US

dollars. Yet, he kept painting, dying while leaving his paintings behind — and perhaps his

dreams, too. After his death, however, he rose to become a world-renowned painter, with one

of his paintings being sold for $82.5 million US dollars. So, faith in adulthood taught me that

being committed to the things you love, despite having minimal to no recognition,

encouragement, or support, might just create your legacy.

Similarly, I read in the Bible about a man named Job. He lost everything he held dear. He lost

his livestock, all his children when the house collapsed with them inside, and his health was

failing him. He even lost his wife’s and friends’ support. Yet, through it all, Job’s faith never

wavered. He remained committed to God, and in the end, he was blessed with double of

everything he lost because of his faithfulness. So, faith in adulthood taught me that even though

I might fall, or lose, or be left with nothing at all, and people count me out, I can achieve

everything again.

And then, I also read about Jim Carrey, the genius behind unforgettable characters in movies

like, ‘The Mask’, ‘Bruce Almighty’, and ‘How the Grinch Stole Christmas’. Carrey was once

a struggling actor, coming out from poverty and an unhealthy home environment. During the

difficult times of his life, in 1992, he wrote himself a check for 10 million US dollars for “acting

services rendered” and dated it for Thanksgiving 1995. He kept that check in his wallet as a

symbol of self-belief and visualization, having faith that he would be able to cash it one day.

Sometime later, Carrey’s career began to take off as he landed well-paying roles in the industry.

By Thanksgiving 1995, he had enough money to cash a real check for 10 million dollars. So,

faith in adulthood taught me that the sky is not the limit — nothing is.

Much like painting, raising livestock, and acting, a life dedicated to service requires great faith.

And I’ve learned so much about faith from Van Gogh, Carrey, and Job, but the lessons I’ve

learned through service have meant the most to me. Let me tell you why. As a Rotaractor, we

can't control the impact of an initiative, and while the objectives may seem logical on paper,

reality may turn out differently. I’ve learned that faith is planning a project and trusting in the

impact of the outcome. I believe there isn’t any seasoned Rotaractor or Rotarian who hasn’t sat

with fingers crossed, heads bowed, or whispered a silent chant, hoping that somehow,

someway, a miracle happens in time to save a well-intentioned initiative. And even now, as my

team executes its projects with just a portion of our goals fulfilled, I am reminded that faith is

trusting the process, despite having limited resources, setbacks, and limitations.

And then, there are days when you want to question your life’s decisions. In the midst of a

tiring day, when nothing seems to be going right — no sponsors respond, there aren’t enough

funds, or there’s a breakdown in communication — you ask yourself, “What am I doing all this

for?” I’ll admit, I’ve asked myself that question a few times along my Rotaract journey, and it

has been screaming even louder in my ears as I take on the demanding role of Treasurer. But

it’s always silenced a few minutes later, as I reflect on the simple words, “With hopes to create

a better future.”

I’m learning, and I’ve learned, that a life dedicated to service requires great faith.