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I am depressed. My parents are taking me to church which always give me an uncomfortable feeling. They would always beg me to pay attention, but I would not pay attention. They even mentioned about my salvation and how I will go to Hell; I either ignore them or I would not care.

My church is exceedingly unique. They have strict, but not too strict, rules that my parents are trying to force upon me.

I continue doing my ways until the day that stab me like a knife in the heart. The day was El Avivamiento. It is a day when people, from our church who are baptized, pray to God for a long period of time, about an hour or two none stop, to receive the Holy Spirit. It last for three nights.

I did not care. My parents told me if I receive the Holy Spirit, God will listen and answer my prayers and He will accept me as His son and He will understand me. I believe there are only three people who understand my feelings, Me, Myself, and I. My reason being is if I told my parents, they would not understand. I even told my friends about it, but they would either reply, “Okay,” or they would change the subject.

Two days of the Avivamiento has been wasted. I did not receive. They, the minister, do not tell us until it was Sunday, but I knew because on a Saturday morning at 5 o’clock in our church, the minister came up to me and said, “Que triste esta que tu no estas inquiado y llorando (How sad it is that you are not on your knees and crying).”

My sister then came up to me and told me how beautiful it felt to receive the Holy Spirit and how much it hurts our mom, dad, and her to see me not receive and not even caring. After this conversation, she burst into tears. It was the worst feeling I ever felt.

My mom wanted to make sure I receive by telling all of us to pray to God. I was the first to finish my prayers, and I heard my family crying in their prayers. It filled me with guilt for not trying to receive. I am determined to receive. I have one last chance to receive the Holy Spirit.

As I was praying to God, in El Avivamiento, I was getting dizzy, light-headed, sore throat, knees aching, and my eyes are burning for the lack of tears, but I told myself to ignore the pain. I was praying to God saying, “I’m sorry, forgive me, I know I have sin, I want you to understand me, I want to be your son, I want you to be my father, I don’t want to be an orphan anymore, I want to be part of this church, PLEASE GOD!!!!”

For what seems like an eternity, El Avivamiento was over. I wonder if I receive or not, but the minister show no sign that I did or did not. As I came home and went to bed, I slept patiently for Sunday morning.

Sunday morning had come, but the minister will tell who receive at the end of the Consagracion. Finally, the end of the Consagracion has come, and the minister was calling out names of those who receive the Holy Spirit. I waited patiently and slowly losing hope, but one name stopped my heart from beating, “Jaaziel Herrera.” I was incredibly happy, and I knew so were my family. When I look at them, they were crying tears of joy. I knew by then God accepted and love me.

I believe everybody can get a second chance. I believe those who see their family cry for them and do nothing about it, is just heartless. If anybody ask me how I receive the Holy Spirit, I would reply, “It was all because of God and my family.”





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