On Late Night Praythings...

Do you ever really want to help somebody but find yourself unable to for whatever reason? And then somebody else needs help and you know they need help and you know you can help, but you don't offer because you don't think you'll actually help? You end up sitting silently carrying burdens without actually lifting the load off anybody. And you wonder why you're here, why you know about these things when you don't have the skills or experience or geographical location to be of any use. And you ask the universe questions and it doesn't reply. And you wonder if these moments of helpless isolation are exactly the moments God intends for you to use in prayer. And you question your faith because it wasn't the first thought that came to you before. And then you might thank God for loving you anyway, even if you suck at everything and ask if He could maybe fill in the gaps where you come up short. And He does. And the next time you find yourself in helpless isolation again, you go through the exact same process. Every time. And never learn.

A pastor I adore but whose sermons weren't online till recently (yey) says life in faith is a series of cycles of feelings of utter abandonment followed by the realization you were never abandoned, and through these repeated cycles, the faith slowly grows, but it's as though sometimes we need the absence of God to feel God's presence. Which, some claim, is why we suffer. Those moments when we're crushed and have nothing left to give are the moments we look up and start asking questions. Or screaming questions. Or obscenities. The point is, in those moments, we dialog in some way, and the tiny shred of hope we have in those moments is what God grows from. A fading spark deep in our soul that is fanned just enough for us to keep going until we finally look up and expect dialog in return and the spark becomes a flame, bright and flashy but easily extinguished into soft embers once again waiting for just the right moment, just the right breath of oxygen to reignite them.

That same cycle is counterproductive in a Christian culture where failure and doubt is frowned upon. Reading the articles about the pope and the sex scandals and people keep saying, "Why would I confess to a priest when I'm not sure he's less of a sinner than I am?" I can't imagine somebody going through life thinking they sin less than the next guy. It's not for not sinning, but for living in complete denial- which, as we hear and read in the media, is exactly the case in the Catholic church. And it's that denial that makes people so angry. Don't hide your mistakes; don't sweep things that are this horrible under the rug. Own your evil.

I love this quote:
Most of our faults are more pardonable than the means we use to conceal them.
- François, Duc de La Rochefoucauld

I would hate to have to write that name out all the time. Especially with a plume. :D

But it's true. How are people supposed to grow in faith and in community when they're not allowed to err or worse, when they're not allowed to hurt because of the sins of others?

You can't.

I've found that out the hard way more than a few times. When I was lying on my bathroom floor this past weekend in complete pain and no fewer than six people (conservative estimate) later scolded me for not getting help, it makes it obvious how in a community, when one is hurt, the whole community hurts.

Imagine if they were there as I lay there and just shut the door?

It goes both ways though. I shut the door and don't let people help me. But on the other hand, prayer has helped me there too. Prayers for me are of infinite help with minimal effort. It's not the same level of effort as getting into a car and driving an hour out of the city to come make sure I'm ok. It's a simple sentence or two from the heart. And in the end, as I work out my issues with self-worth, prayer becomes a stepping stone. It's really an amazing thing that God gave us something so simple and yet, so powerful.

I can be here at 1:40AM and pray for my mommy friends to be sleeping deeply and to be rested in the morning. I can pray that they get a break long enough to rejuvenate their soul for a bit. I can pray that the small things that go wrong go a little more unnoticed than usual. I can pray for them to wake with energy. And patience. And a smile in their heart for no apparent reason.

When I do that, I sleep better because I know the world and the people I love are watched over by a great God who loves them more than I do.

And if they wake up tomorrow and have the worst day they've had in a long time, they might feel abandoned, but I know God's just waiting for them to look up again.

It's really an amazing thing that God gave us something so simple and yet, so powerful. And kind of sad that it always seems to end up last on our list of solutions.