Dear God, is there somebody out there?
Is there someone to hear my prayer?
I don’t really like praying. I find it difficult to not be contrived, and too often it feels like simply muttering things into the immediate space about me. When I try to think about times in my life that prayer had a lasting positive impact on my life, I can ever think of only one instance.
I’m a simple man with simple words to say.
I don’t sleep well at night. I never have. When I was a child, my parents let me have a small black-and-white television with me in my room so that I would be occupied and let them sleep, despite my own resistance to Morpheus’ beckoning. What I watched most often was the 10:00 news. I would watch and then discuss the events depicted therein with my parents in the morning as they got me ready for whatever it is pre-kindergarten age children do with their days. It wasn’t long, though, until I became troubled in my young mind about what was going on in the world. There was so much suffering in the world: wars, poverty, ecosystems being destroyed, children losing parents, parents losing children … I began to feel both deep sorrow and a vague fear in my heart, I felt as though the world were perilously close to collapse.
So, walking home from kindergarten, I asked God about it all. Why was there suffering? Why do people do terrible things? What could be done to make it right? Would the world last long enough for me to grow old?
Is there some point in asking?
Asking for more only got us where we are today-
Lost and alone and afraid.
Funny thing was – He answered. I could almost hear an audible voice speak peace to my little heart. Whatever it was, it was powerful enough that I still remember it today. I spoke to God, and He answered. As I question everything in my life pertaining to faith and religion, I am unable to bring myself to disbelieve that moment was anything but a two-way conversation – and I’ve tried.
Dear God, can you hear me crying?
A whole world crying-
Looking for something to say.
We had it all and we threw it all away.
But ever since that time, I have failed to find anything that has approached that moment. I’ve had some positive experiences/feelings involving prayer and faith and religion, but nothing that has been able to leave an indelible mark upon my psyche. I weep, but I don’t feel the same comfort. I rage, and I find no lasting peace. I feel as though perhaps there is so much noise inside me that the signal gets lost.
Is there somebody watching
Somebody watching over the mess that we’ve made?
We’re lost and alone and afraid.