Our Father

I began praying this morning while out on my early morning walk with Mandy.  The birds were singing and flitting about in such chorus and circus that my thoughts went to Erin my bird loving friend.  I wished I could record the birds' song or their flight or describe it in prose for her, but my camera is my phone and my writing is ... lacking still.  Nothing I had in my arsenal would do the job.  I thought about how badly I wanted to share this moment with her and then I realized what I really want is her well again.  So I began praying  "Our Father..."

As I searched for the right words, the right prayer, the right posture I suddenly was hit with a horrible realization:  I am a crisis Christian.

I want so much to believe in a God the Father, a puppeteer that has our fate in His omnipotent hands.  I want so much to believe that my dad, my great-aunt, my grandparents and my pets are all in heaven watching over me until the day I join them.  I want to believe in heaven as an unimaginably beautiful place where peace, joy and happiness prevail.   I want to believe in prayer and that a few words thrown towards the heavens would tug at the heartstrings of a guardian angel or God Himself and He could make it all right again.  He could cure Erin; He could ensure my friend's daughter doesn't have cancer; He could make it so Dia never gets sick again and He could similarly answer all the prayers of my friends and loved ones.

But I don't believe in God that way.  I just pray to that God when I really need something. 

To start at a silly and simple level, I can't imagine how horrifying it would be to have to answer to my dad, my great-aunt, my grandparents and even my pets about all the things they've watched me do here on earth.  Oh, I'm sure they'd be in their angelic all-forgiving "I'm OK you're OK" mode by the time I'm knocking on the pearlies, but I'm not sure I'd consider that level of embarrassment any form of heaven.

And while on that subject, I happen to be a huge fan of this earth.  I walk every morning and love what He's done with the place.  Even when I lived in Indianapolis and there wasn't much to appreciate, I could find an amazing tree or a sunbeam breaking through the clouds and just marvel in His handiwork.  Besides - my bucket list could double as a travelogue.  My heaven would be to get to stay here on earth until I saw all the wonders of the world twice.  This blue speck of spinning flora, fauna, architecture and human spirit is my heaven.

Yet on a much more philosophical level, I have trouble believing in a God that could cast entire creeds of people to the depths of hell for not accepting a prescribed Lord and Savior.  How could a loving father turn away His children in the same manner riff-raff would be turned away from an elite country club?

Nor can I believe in a God that would banish a person to eternal damnation for the way he conducts himself sexually.  Here's a tidbit for you:  I have seen a walrus masturbate.  A walrus!  I even have the photo to prove it!  I'm pretty sure he wasn't sinning - he was just being a dude walrus with dude walrus urges.  Is he destined to go to walrus hell for a sexual perversion?   Honestly?  Gay, straight, upside down, missionary or alone - I just cannot believe that God would care that much about how we do it.  With everything else on His plate, don't you think He just wants us to love each other - Golden Rule style?

The biggest part of the dogma for me, though - the one where the leap of faith is jumping the Grand Canyon on a pogo stick - is that there is no way that I can believe in an all powerful and loving being that would allow a child to suffer or die.

I understand "things" die.  But "things" should be very old and ready to leave this earth.  A 13 year old girl should not be fighting for her life in a hospital bed with her terrified parents at her side.  A young mother should not be waging war with cancer while her children suffer the fear of potentially losing her.  God the Father?  What kind of father would stand by and allow that when he could so easily do something to make it all better?

I've lived in the bible belt and I've probably heard all the 'why' answers there are to that question, but none of them sit right with me.  Perhaps the most compelling argument I've heard is that God as the Father is as different to a human father as a lion father is to us.  Lions are rumored to kill their own cubs in times of starvation or in fits of rivalry.  Certainly, though there are crazy exceptions, human fathers do not have to be quarantined away from their newborn child to ensure the baby doesn't fall victim at his father's jealous or hungry hands.  In the same way, God the Father has superior reasons for why He does what He does and it cannot be compared to the simplistic actions of a primitive human father. 

I can kind of believe that I suppose.  Or maybe I just want to believe that because I want to believe the whole story.  That way I don't have to be afraid.  If it is true, then my own life doesn't have to end when I depart this body in which I reside.  If it is true I might not be so powerless.  I can grab a little magic and some hope.  I can pray for my friends' recoveries, my daughter's health, my children's safety and I can believe emphatically that it will all come to pass. 

A wise woman once advised me to follow religion a la carte.  Instead of ordering the entree with a bunch of sides I can't swallow, I should choose the dishes I can stomach and come back for seconds on the ones that really sit well with me.  I suppose, after a baptism, a confirmation and years in the church it's understandably hard for me to be as  laissez-faire as that, but I try.  I do believe in some force and have discovered I have a lean toward Buddhist thinking.  I try to be Christ-like and compassionate.  I say grace at dinner to send gratitude, thanks and energy out to the universe in a more social setting.  I have found great comfort in the teachings of several famous and not-so famous monks and, yes, I happen to be a very big fan of Jesus.  I like the idea of a gentle, peaceable, all-loving man that could touch so very many people in such a brief life.  I am not so certain about the dogma surrounding Jesus, but perhaps that doesn't matter.  If the dogma is true, especially in the more conservative beliefs, I imagine I'm headed for hell in the end.  In the meantime, though, (at least if I remember this correctly) I think He will still receive my prayers.

In that case?
Our Father, who art in Heaven, please forgive me for being so uncertain.  I am sure, no matter what form you truly exist in, you can see into my heart so it's silly for me to try to string together a series of words just right.  You are wise enough to know I'm just trying to manipulate your will.  

You know who is weighing heavy on my mind, God.  You know how badly I want my friend to win her war with cancer.  You know how much I want that little girl to come back with a clean bill of health.  You know how I am utterly incapable of living this life if anything ever happened to my own children.  Please, God, lay your hands on them and cure, heal and protect them and let them remain here on earth healthy and happy.  Amen**

Matthew 19:13  Then were there brought unto him little children, that he should put his hands on them, and pray: and the disciples rebuked them. ¹⁴But Jesus said, Suffer little children, and forbid them not, to come unto me: for of such is the kingdom of heaven. ¹⁵And he laid his hands on them, and departed thence. 

**Important Update:  About 14 hours after I wrote this blog post, I received an update from my friend whose daughter was undergoing tests for cancer.  The final test came back clear!  They cannot find any cancer and she is even fever free, eating and on the mend.  Maybe God just gave me a great big BooYah Gran'ma in my face.  Well played, Sir.  Well played indeed.