The Fight For Faith

Hey guys. First of all I want to say thank you, as always, for rocking with me and reading my thoughts and supporting me. My last post was my most popular one to date. I guess it touched more people than even I thought it would. If you get something positive from reading about me trying to wade through this life, then my heart is full. So thanks for that. I started therapy, and things are okay. As a matter of fact, “okay” has become my new mantra. I don’t say I’m fine, because I’m not. I don’t say I’m doing “good” (or “well” for my wonderful English major friends), because I don’t think I am. I say I’m “okay.” Because that’s as much as I can be right now. It is what it is. But I’m definitely looking forward to being more than “okay” soon.

In my journey to find some peace and clarity about my life, I’ve been talking to people who have helped me–but who have also given me a whole new set of questions. In conversations with my Kah, and my BFF and my cousin Shana, all of whom have a great spiritual belief in their lives, they all wondered how my relationship with God is–and whether I’ve asked Him for help and surrendered this struggle to his will. And in answer to that inquiry, my mind was flooded with fear, confusion and a new set of sadness. Because I haven’t fully. I’ve prayed on occasion, and tried to trust that I would come out of this better, and stronger. But I haven’t really BELIEVED it. I haven’t believed that God can help me. I think I’m losing my faith.

I’ve never been a religious person. My parents weren’t, and it wasn’t something that was stressed in our house. My mom believes in God, and she prays regularly. But the only time we ever went to church was when we got invited to someone else’s. I dabbled in studying to be a Jehovah Witness for a few years, but that had more to do with wanting to be with and like my Kah–because that’s what was practiced in her house. I always believed in the existence and omnipresence of God–and I always believed in the power of prayer. I just never translated that into any sort of organized religious practice. When I got to Lincoln, I was surrounded by people who were very fond of saying that they were “spiritual, but not religious.” I didn’t know if I fit into that group either. I just knew that I believed in a benevolent, loving, patient, forgiving, higher power–and that the key to surviving this life was being as like Him as you could possibly be. I guess I became my mother in that regard. I only go to church when I get invited by other people, and I’ve NEVER been to a church that’s made me want to go more than once.

Fast forward to now… and I’m a little shaky. When Kah asked me if I had a relationship with God, I told her that I didn’t have the one I should have. And when she asked if I even wanted one, I had to say I didn’t know. That made me ashamed. I’ve never felt like that. I have never discounted the power of God, or the necessity of having some sort of relationship with Him. NEVER. When I emailed my cousin Shana, I admitted to her that I wasn’t even sure how I should pray anymore. I can’t even articulate to God that I need help. That’s NEVER happened to me. NEVER. But now? It’s a struggle for me to believe He can help me. Maybe the struggle is believing that He even wants to. Maybe I don’t feel worthy anymore. Either way, I think I’m losing my faith. And what’s worse? I’m afraid I don’t have the energy to fight for it. This is just one more fucking thing. Damn, I’m tired.

Part of me wonders if my inability to fully believe and surrender is just me being the stubborn, uber-independent, control freak that I am. Maybe I’ve become so focused on pulling myself out of this, BY MYSELF, that my arrogance is in the way. Maybe I’m afraid that pushing forward and trusting my faith will mean changes I don’t want to make. See that? Stubbornness. Arrogance. Fear. The Devil is so damn busy. Sigh.

I tried praying the other night. Well, I tried talking. I felt like i was asking for an advance on my salary after meeting my new boss for the first time. There was so much nervousness. So much fear of saying the wrong thing. But even I, in my currently-limited faith, knows that’s not how it should be. If I’m being honest, with Him, and with myself, then there’s no wrong thing to say. Everything is the right thing to say when you’re trying to save your life. And your faith. I should know that.

I was watching random movie clips on Youtube and I stumbled upon the scene from “The Color Purple” when Shug hears the singing from her father’s church and starts singing along, regaining her faith with every note, praising Him and asking for forgiveness at the same time. It’s my favorite scene in the movie. The song was, “God’s Trying To Tell You Something.” It almost made me cry. Because the lyrics are about not being able to sleep, not knowing what’s going wrong–and begging the Lord to speak to you, so you can figure out what he’s trying to tell you. I wish I knew what He was trying to tell me. I wish I wasn’t afraid to ask. I didn’t used to be.

Goodnight, you guys. Be good to each other.