Waiting for God to answer

praying What do you say when someone tells you she has left her faith, because she had called upon God and He did not answer?

(To said friend who somehow always ends up the subject of my blogposts, I apologise and hope you don’t think I’m ‘attacking’ you in any way)

Theologically, whatever I am going to say will not make sense to either logic or theology. It’s probably closer to New Age than I’d like and hopefully, God will not have me skewered in hell for heresy. But here it is:

I believe that faith is its own gift, its own reward, and sometimes its own curse.

If God and all that He stands for is a lie, then I will say that it is a lie I will cling to.

Which goes against my own position on Truth – that truth is absolute and there is no ‘my truth’ or ‘your truth’.

The problem with faith, is that it cannot hang on proofs or signs. You believe in what is unseen, in what cannot be proven and what goes against all tenets of logic.

My friend’s atheist friend, whose discourse I find rather distasteful, is now being as intense as an overzealous missionary but on a different path – trying to convert her to absolute atheism.

To said friend: I care for you, and I care enough to say that your choices must be your own and your decisions on faith must be yours. It is not my business to attempt to ‘save’ you or move you to one path or another.

Proselytisers annoy me, no matter what faith they profess, because I believe in the concept of Grace. Whatever you say to sway me, will not influence my faith. Faith is something I either have, or don’t.

Faith in the unseen is the cornerstone of who I am. Perhaps it borders on the mystical, even. but though I may be sceptical about many things, I believe there is a God. A God who I know is there because I know He is, though I cannot prove that He is there. It is the way a child would know that he has parents, because they are there. That there is wind, because it blows on his face. I will not argue for or against it, I will not think or be objective on this one single point. I believe there is a God, and I will always believe that.

Yet faith is often tested, and sometimes it passes…and sometimes it doesn’t. I have seen people walk away from faith, or return to it because of calamities in their lives.

But I say this – to show grief, to petition God in times of trouble, to ask that question “My God, why have you forsaken me (when I need you the most) is human. It is our nature to doubt, to question, to ask God to show us He’s there.

And I think for many of us, there will come a time when we will ask, dear God, why? Why? And no one can give us a satisfactory answer.

In the end, it’s a choice. Do we still choose to believe, despite the absence of proofs? Or will we just stop believing?

“Oh My God”:
Oh my God, look around this place,
Your fingers reach around the bone,
you set the break and set the tone
For flights of grace, and future falls
In present pain all fools say, "Oh my God."

Oh my God, why are we so afraid?
we make it worse when we don’t bleed,
there is no cure for our disease.
Turn a phrase and rise again,
or fake your death and only tell your closest friends,
Oh My God.

Oh my God, can I complain?
You take away my firm belief and graft my soul upon your grief.
Weddings, boats, and alibis,
All drift away, and a mother cries…

Liars and fools, sons and failures, thieves will always say..
Lost and found, ailing wanderers, healers always say..
Whores and angels, men with problems, leavers always say..
Broken hearted, separated, orphans always say..
War creators, racial haters, preachers always say..
Distant fathers, fallen warriors, givers always say..
Pilgrim saints, lonely widows, users always say..
Fearful mothers, watchful doubters, Saviors always say..

Sometimes I can not forgive
and these days mercy cuts so deep,
If the world was how it should be, maybe I could get some sleep.
While I lay, I’d dream we’re better, scales were gone and faces lighter,
When we wake we hate our brother, we still move to hurt each other,

Sometimes I can close my eyes and all the fear the keeps me silent,
Falls below my heavy breathing, what makes me so badly bent?
We all have a chance to murder, we all have the need for wonder.
We still want to be reminded that the pain is worth the plunder.
Sometimes when I lose my grip, I wonder what to make of heaven,
All the times I thought to reach up, all the times I had to give up.

Babies underneath their beds, in hospitals that cannot treat them.
All the wounds that money causes, all the comforts of cathedrals,
All the cries of thirsty children, this is our inheritance,
All the rage of watching mothers, this is our greatest offense
Oh my God, Oh my God, Oh my God.

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