A new house church opened near where I lived.

A house church was basically a normal house used as a church building in an area where the main church wanted to branch out.

I got a job at a pho restaurant to support the church, which was funded entirely by members. We cooked meals, bought furniture and decorations for the church, stayed until late every night studying the Bible.

And every night, we went preaching at the local community college, trying to bring people in for Bible studies and baptism.

One day, the missionary at the main church rebuked us for bearing no fruit and not taking proper care of the church and shut it down.

I’d come to the closed-down house church in my free time to paint the walls and do other small fix-it tasks, repentant and praying for forgiveness.

I thought we were doing the right things but no one we brought would stay. I didn’t know what else to do. It felt hopeless. I must just be unworthy.

I started feeling that I was cursed.

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A note from me: My apartment is right next to a busy road and the walls don’t keep out sound, so there’s some loud traffic noise in the recording. I could’ve re-recorded, but I decided to keep it in to remind you I’m just a normal, imperfect human doing this project with my meager resources in my free time. Thanks for reading and listening. <3