Lost prayers

And what if… I give up on prayer?

It’s been some time since I’ve prayed.

It seems to me to be a series of incantations and pleading, sent forth to a coldly distant diety, who deigns to listen, let alone look upon me or others.

Of a surety, I believe his hand brought me to Texas from the East Coast; I’m also sure that, after he dumped me here, he turned slowly away and hasn’t checked on my life since that time. I’ve given up on asking for direction, for guidance, for the smallest crumb from him, since it has become obvious he’s lost interest.

There’s been too many cases of close friends calling upon him, of being led (and promised) to believe one thing or another, only to find it ripped from them, leaving them homeless and reeling.

Oh, they have a house, make no mistake about that, but it is a cold, empty house and is no home to them; ‘home’ being a place of warmth, love, companionship, laughter, and such.

There’s other stories of similar note- requests sent forth, promises given regarding them, yet years later, they are in worse circumstances and no way of seeing those promises being kept.

So. Does prayer avail much? I no longer believe so. Praying in tongue still feels somewhat sacred, I’ll own that, and yet there’s a sense of hopelessness about it to me. A language of mystery, but there is no one to hear it; no one listening to the deep heart of what is being brought forth, and so this, too, is an empty gesture.

It hurts. An ache inside. A unknown, deep well of hurt that occasionally roils over into every day life and spews forth a rank ugliness that isn’t me, only it is because it’s coming from within.

So, I’ve given up on it and try to see beauty in the small moments around me and believe that the I Am still Is.

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First posting… Finally

I haven’t written anything here yet simply because I wasn’t ready and had no words.

I’ve been ruminating on quite a few things since I opened this blog, what, 2 years ago? But today feels like a good day to share some thoughts.

The name I chose, And what if…, refers to where I’m standing spiritually, where I’m looking, and the things I’ve been unlearning (yes, that has become a word).

Bits & pieces of what I’ve read, discussions I’ve had, and my own thoughts have brought me to a place where, honestly, I don’t know if I still believe in God/Elohim/Yahweh or whatever ‘his’ name is, so What If I dump everything I know, scrap it all, and start over?

Where does that leave me? Floundering and feeling quite lost, not able to turn to ‘him’ in prayer and hope for an answer. I can’t (choose not to, more correctly) pray in tongues, and prayer itself, of any kind, feels an utter waste of time.

I’ve spent a few years in the Lutheran church, others in a Baptist church, and more recently in a nondenominational charismatic gathering, so there is a whole lot to let go of from each of these religions.

The biggest one for me has been the idea of hell. This is what was bubbling in my mind this morning, that it isn’t valid and never has been. If it was, why would Paul not lay it out in no uncertain terms in his many letters? Seriously, if this is a truth, how could we live sane lives, knowing that the people around us are are destined to the most horrendous end, and NOT DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT.

But we don’t. We cluck our tongues, say isn’t a shame, maybe shed a tear or two when someone dies, then move on. I think most of us understand deep, deep within that it isn’t real, and so we continue with living the lives we have and not do more.

I recently read (and my apologies, because I don’t recall where I read it) that brimstone is sulphur, and it was used to clean and purify the clothing worn way back when, to return it to its original, clean state.

Interesting thought, no? And, what if the burning lake of brimstone is really a place where the dross, hay, and stubble is cleaned out of those who have died (and presumably tossed in the lake), leaving them purified, clean, and the gold (precious part of them) is all that’s left?

Wouldn’t you think that someone who lived their life mired in evil (or just the typical muck of anger, jealousy, stife, etc.) has all of that stripped away and can, for the first time, actually KNOW they are deeply cherished and loved… Well, would you not wonder if that person might just bow their head, and acknowledge God for ‘his’ sovereign self? To rejoice in their newly discovered freedom? (Rom. 14:11. Thanks, Google)

So. That is what’s been churning in my mind today.