A test of faith, you say?
The skies of eastern Nebraska are today as leaden gray, dark and foreboding as my spiritual self.
And I know, for some of you out there, that is hard to hear.
Spiritual crisis?
Spiritual thermonuclear destruction is more like it.
After my mother died, I felt her presence so strongly in church, that it made me re-think my commitment to God.
Then I visited Catholic Central – Rome – and again felt a renewal in my spiritual self.
I decided that I need more God in my life.
I have always been a spiritual person; I do believe in a power higher than myself. God, Yahweh, Jehovah, whatever.
I just didn’t necessarily think I needed to be in a church to believe. To get my signals. To pray.
I have been a person who has always believed in the church of nature and in the church of being a good person. In the church of leading by example.
But in the past year, I have come to realize that church is a comfort of my youth, a comfort that guided my mother through cancer and her death.
I started going back to church. I was asked to be involved. I was asked to become a reader; the priests welcomed me and welcomed my spirit.
Truly, I have never understood why man was made to suffer, if they believed. If they were good and led a good life.
And when my life was turned upside-down recently, I took to prayer to help solve the crisis. Granted, I was asking for a specific thing.
It does not look like my prayer will be answered. To God, to St. Jude to my mother – and any other saint I thought could help.
And I now find myself in spiritual crisis, a thermonuclear meltdown of my faith that threatens to turn my heart to a fiery pit of hate for faith. For God.
I am not like a petulant child who does not get the prize and now will pitch a fit.
I am seriously looking at faith and where my heart – and my head – fit in it.
I have a friend, a brother, who says not to give up, to keep praying since God has a plan for me and it will be revealed. That this past year is a test. A test of faith.
But I am a mere mortal. And my heart can only take so much hurt.
Before I just say fuck it.
And spin down a path that probably will not be good.
For my heart.
For my soul.
For my spiritual self.
I am lost.
And the path is starting to become overgrown.
Tangled with feelings, like thick, sharp brambles.
I hope I can find my way back.
And I know, for some of you out there, that is hard to hear.
Spiritual crisis?
Spiritual thermonuclear destruction is more like it.
After my mother died, I felt her presence so strongly in church, that it made me re-think my commitment to God.
Then I visited Catholic Central – Rome – and again felt a renewal in my spiritual self.
I decided that I need more God in my life.
I have always been a spiritual person; I do believe in a power higher than myself. God, Yahweh, Jehovah, whatever.
I just didn’t necessarily think I needed to be in a church to believe. To get my signals. To pray.
I have been a person who has always believed in the church of nature and in the church of being a good person. In the church of leading by example.
But in the past year, I have come to realize that church is a comfort of my youth, a comfort that guided my mother through cancer and her death.
I started going back to church. I was asked to be involved. I was asked to become a reader; the priests welcomed me and welcomed my spirit.
Truly, I have never understood why man was made to suffer, if they believed. If they were good and led a good life.
And when my life was turned upside-down recently, I took to prayer to help solve the crisis. Granted, I was asking for a specific thing.
It does not look like my prayer will be answered. To God, to St. Jude to my mother – and any other saint I thought could help.
And I now find myself in spiritual crisis, a thermonuclear meltdown of my faith that threatens to turn my heart to a fiery pit of hate for faith. For God.
I am not like a petulant child who does not get the prize and now will pitch a fit.
I am seriously looking at faith and where my heart – and my head – fit in it.
I have a friend, a brother, who says not to give up, to keep praying since God has a plan for me and it will be revealed. That this past year is a test. A test of faith.
But I am a mere mortal. And my heart can only take so much hurt.
Before I just say fuck it.
And spin down a path that probably will not be good.
For my heart.
For my soul.
For my spiritual self.
I am lost.
And the path is starting to become overgrown.
Tangled with feelings, like thick, sharp brambles.
I hope I can find my way back.
Comments