Dear GOD,
I’m not sure where to start here.
Originally, I was going to try easing into this with some small talk, but then I realized with You being GOD n’ all, well… that’s probably not the best idea. So, I’m just going to come right out and ask it: exactly what the hell is going on here?
I mean, I don’t know if You’ve been watching lately or not, but things have gone completely sideways down here—like jacked-up beyond words or measurement; I mean, a thorough and complete cosmic clusterf*ck… (Sorry.)
The heaviness is so oppressive right now, the darkness so thick, and lately hope and light are tough to come by. No matter which direction I turn toward, I see people who are hurting and hurting each other and to be honest, it’s getting the best of me. Though I’m putting on the bravest face I have and doing the work as well as I can, I’m afraid I’m losing my religion.
I’m not sure who to be angry at right now: You, me, the American Church, my Conservative Christian neighbors. To tell you the truth, it feels like we’re all dropping the ball here.
God, shouldn’t things be better by now?
Shouldn’t we have figured out how to live here without killing one another at this point?
Millions of years on the planet and we’re still incapable of loving through our differences.
Isn’t that what You’re supposed to be helping us with?
Isn’t this the point of believing at all?
If faith isn’t changing us, is it even worth having?
It’s been two thousand years since Jesus walked the planet and honestly, it seems like a sizable portion of his followers totally lost the plot during that time. When I survey my timeline or peruse the news, a massive number of Christians aren’t just failing to love their neighbors—they’re harassing, hounding, and eradicating them.
I’ve read all the Scriptures, and I know the program and party line. I know I’m supposed to pray without ceasing and to believe I can endure all things and to trust that Your ways are higher than our ways—but seriously this planet… and specifically, this nation is a mess of Biblical proportions. I don’t think I’m the only one whose belief is hanging by the thinnest of threads right now, waiting for You to show up and do what we can’t seem to do—save us from ourselves.
I can imagine how terrible this all sounds, coming from a former pastor and supposed communicator of spiritual things. I’m supposed to feel differently about all of this, and I’ve been trying like hell to pray my way through this but I think I’ve finally run out of prayers. Or maybe I’ve started to feel like I’m just talking to myself; like You’re not there at all or that You’re there and not helping. (Frankly, either of these options is a pretty dreadful proposition.)
The bottom line here, God, is that I’m grieving.
I’m grieving the way we treat one another here. I’m grieving the fact that we have everything we need—and we’re still at each other’s throats. I’m grieving how little kindness seems to be accomplishing, how love is apparently failing to win. I’m mourning the constant waste of life and wondering why it has to be this way. And, I’m grieving how much of my faith feels like it is slipping through my hands as I watch it all happening.
I’ve learned well from the Church how to rationalize away all this horror. I know the default Sunday School answers of Sin and the Fall and the Devil, and of all creation groaning as it waits for You to make everything right—but honestly these don’t bring me any peace right now. They all seem like Band-Aid fixes over a broken-open chest cavity.
Right now I just want people to remember how to be decent human beings.
I just want goodness to win the freakin’ day.
I want to see a sliver of the beautiful world and the abundant life I’ve been told You have to offer, one I have spent years promising others if they just believe.
I want to believe that faith makes a difference, but as I look around I’m ashamed to say that right now I’m just not sure anymore.
So yeah, this is a pretty lousy prayer but it’s all I have right now. The good thing is if You’re God, then I know you can handle my doubts and questions and existential crisis. They say You fed thousands of people with a few loaves of bread and a couple of fish, so maybe You’ll do something miraculous with these meager words, if not in me then in someone else.
Maybe with the smallest mustard seed of faith still left in me You’ll cause something redemptive to grow.
And as another struggling father in the Scriptures paradoxically prayed:
“I do believe. Help me overcome my unbelief.”
Amen.
