Skip to main content

A Letter To God

So how do I pray, God?

After a lifetime in 3 churches, after reading the Lord's prayer, after praying aloud a thousand times with friends, another thousand times trying to bumble through it with just you, I still don't know how to pray.

How frustrating.

It's not for lack of want. I just don't understand the methodology. After reading Miriam's Prayer and Mary's Prayer and Moses' Prayer, all with formula and poetry, is there some unknown code I need to crack? I long to overhear Daniel's long hours spent in prayer, hunched over the windowsill facing Israel. I long to overhear Elijah's conversations with you up in the mountains by the brook, or John's communiques with you as he walked the hot sand in his camel tunic. The people who knew you and knew how to pray, but their most intimate communions with you unshared and secret, and the silence of such drives me mad.

It's not for lack of want. I just don't understand the methodology. You used James to let us know that when we need wisdom, we should ask you and you'll give it to us. And I am asking for wisdom in prayer. Yet how does such a thing manifest? I balk harshly at rhetoric and worn-out cumbersome words in prayer, yet does that mean I am not giving you your due and deserved awe? And when I pray, what do I pray? You grant what is in your will and do not what is not in your will.

So God, do I have to know your will before I can really pray? If so, than I ask for even more wisdom for that...and I am getting even more frustrated.

God, I am here. I am stirred up and agitated; I want to be able to do this, I want it very badly. I know that the times I approach you rawly in want and in question the more peace I feel after such. If I am disrespectful, show me. I am asking to learn.

I have learned a beautiful thing: that while almost everyone else in the world asks you to be perfect, you know me far better than to ask for such a foolish thing. So here's my two tiny copper coins, here's my mustard seed, here's my most basic possession of willingness. If it takes one hundred prayers to show me 99 wrong mindsets and motives and 1 request that miraculously overlapped with your will, than it's worth the 99 frustrations. I'm willing to make the wrong prayers if you're willing to show me and teach me the right ones.

And God, you know I'm not patient. If you could help me learn stuff sooner rather than later, that would be great.

(Doesn't hurt to ask, right?)

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

I Watch You Smile - You Steal the Show

Anyone ever see "Mean Girls" with Lindsey Lohan? When she was pissed off, she suffered from a symptom she dubbed "word vomit". Hers was the result of her convulsing anger, but I have a different word vomit. Mine is basically the result of my vocabulary and emotions upchucking at the same time. I'm not quite sure what to tell you guys; what's appropriate to say, what you don't need to know, what's too much to tell you. This is probably gonna be a pretty long entry, which might scare you off, but after hearing my unusally discouraging tones I have no doubt that many of you are now riveted. I guess...you guys love me and want to know me, and for some, this is the only way you keep up with me. I'll figure out the limit as I go, I guess. I had a very good talk with my momma today, which is a good sign for our relationship. It was violently and starkly splintered for quite a while, but it has progressed in leaps and bounds lately as I've better und...

The First Stages

2 days ago I had a coffee date with the girl "in charge" of the house I'll be moving into this Sunday. Snuggled down in a sweatshirt over a white chocolate mocha during a drizzly afternoon we went over last minute details to make sure she and I were on the same page. As we wrapped everything up, she told me to wait and dashed to the car; coming back in with a polka dot gift bag I had only eyes for what lay behind the curled red ribbon tying the two handles together: two shiny silver keys. Inside the bag was a beautiful red journal and a heap of candy from all the girls to welcome me into the house, but I couldn't get over the feel of those keys in my hand with fresh cut grooves. I marveled at the sight of them threaded onto my keychain as Sarah Brasse's eyes danced from across the table. I looked up, feeling the warmth of the mocha spread from my abdomen to my fingers and toes and the ends of my hair. "It's real, isn't it?" I said. "It's...

Shipwrecked

I always seem to come back here, to this place of writing and sharing.  It feels like a boulder on the shore - I may wash away in the tide for a while, but somehow I always end up washed back here. It's now been nearly twelve years since my first post here.  I was 18 when I started this blog for my Freshman English class; two months from now, I'll be 30 and freshly divorced. There is much, of course, that I cannot and will not write about that last detail; I am not here to tattle or list grievances.  Here is the short story: we were together for nearly 12 years, and now we are working on paperwork for our dissolution.  No, there was no infidelity on either side.  And no, I was the one who initiated both the separation and the dissolution.  Yes, it was - and is - very painful.  And yes, I do hope he quickly finds happiness after we part ways, even if it sounds trite. And here I am, back here on this seaside boulder, washed ashore like a ...