I got beaten down in prayer

[_Jonah]

You got beaten down in prayer? For me, I just got beaten...and prayer didn't help. I guess I was fortunate to learn at an early age that prayer was futile.

My mother was a frustrated TBM bitch. Frustrated by having two kids the first two years of her marriage, frustrated by having been moved from her family and comfortable mecca of SLC to the paradise of a beach city in SoCal, frustrated by a controlling husband who spent too much time away from home establishing a business, etc. More often than not, those frustrations were vented on my ass.

There truly is nothing like the faith of a child. Especially one who is praying for protection of endless beatings from one's mother. I guess I shouldn't say endless...the longest streak of consecutive days that I was in some form hit, smacked, beaten, was only 32 days. Hardly endless...it only seemed that way. Once I happened upon my sister on her knees also praying that mom would stop hitting us. My mother always had a wooden spoon in her purse for access at all times. If a spoon were to bust while she was using it on us...oh boy would she be pissed!! Looking back, I regret not getting her a new set of wooden spoons for X-mas every year.

But through all of this...where was my god? Where was my FATHER in heaven? Those were tough questions for a Sunbeam to ask that, like his fervent prayers, went unanswered. I prayed for everything. That I could somehow be a good boy in her eyes for a day or two, that when the hitting started I would feel no pain, that I would be able to stop crying and not be so afraid. I even prayed that my mother would die. The sad part...we were good kids. Hell, we were scared shitless not to be. Later in life my mother would proclaim that we turned out so well BECAUSE of the beatings we took. My father would apologize to me for fleeing the house for work every morning when my mother would start in instead of standing up to her. As for me, I would always wonder what it would be like to have been raised in a house of love instead of a house of fear.

Oh, and I would also wonder where my FATHER IN HEAVEN was while I was praying for his aid, comfort, and protection. Helping someone find their car keys perhaps? Prayer...yeah. I realized at an early age that I would achieve the same results praying to that cold gallon of milk in the fridge than I would praying to the Sky-Daddy.

[_just me]

This thread has killed me. *sobs*



I do think that prayer and other things that humans do and believe are ways that we try to control or make sense of our out of our control world.

Not being in control can be very scary. Not having reasons for horrible crap that happens can be frustrating and depressing.

But at the same time, I feel more relief knowing their isn't some sinister god-man in the sky orchestrating the horrible things that happen...or at very least standing by while they happen. Very relieved.
A god who helps a boy find a quarter for chicken but allows a child to be raped is just not something I want to believe in.

[_Blixa]

Yes, this is a sad thread. Zeez, you were so kind to pray for your teacher!

Morley and Jonah: how hard such grief is for a child to understand.

[_Jersey Girl]

Zee,

I think your expectation of prayer is very different from my own. Not sure about that. People typically say that "prayer works" or "prayer doesn't work". I don't know what they mean by that.

Maybe discuss more later...gotta run.

-JG, the one and only auto corrected
;-)

[_Stormy Waters]

Oh, and I would also wonder where my FATHER IN HEAVEN was while I was praying for his aid, comfort, and protection. Helping someone find their car keys perhaps? Prayer...yeah. I realized at an early age that I would achieve the same results praying to that cold gallon of milk in the fridge than I would praying to the Sky-Daddy.

God was probably busy intervening in a Football game.

[_Quasimodo]

This thread has killed me. *sobs*



I do think that prayer and other things that humans do and believe are ways that we try to control or make sense of our out of our control world.

Not being in control can be very scary. Not having reasons for horrible crap that happens can be frustrating and depressing.

But at the same time, I feel more relief knowing their isn't some sinister god-man in the sky orchestrating the horrible things that happen...or at very least standing by while they happen. Very relieved.
A god who helps a boy find a quarter for chicken but allows a child to be raped is just not something I want to believe in.

I've wondered for most of my life what the use of prayer was. If God is omnipotent, omnipresent and all knowing, what could we suggest to God that he/ she doesn't already know? When bad things happen to people we often hear that it's God's plan... all will become apparent in the end.

If we pray hard enough, will God change his/ her mind?

[_Zelder]

I have learned that God is not Santa Clause. He's not there to fill our wish list. The purpose of prayer is to humble ourselves, learn the will of God so that we can accomplish the work God has for us to do.

Zee, your prayer should have been something more like; Dear God, my teacher is appears to be having a rough time. What can I do to help her?

[_Stormy Waters]

I have learned that God is not Santa Clause. He's not there to fill our wish list. The purpose of prayer is to humble ourselves, learn the will of God so that we can accomplish the work God has for us to do.

Zee, your prayer should have been something more like; Dear God, my teacher is appears to be having a rough time. What can I do to help her?

Why not cut out the middle man and ask his teacher what he could do to help her?

[_Fence Sitter]

I have learned that God is not Santa Clause. He's not there to fill our wish list. The purpose of prayer is to humble ourselves, learn the will of God so that we can accomplish the work God has for us to do.

Then what would be the purpose of the temple prayer roll? Why pray for the missionaries in the field, why bless the food?

[_hans castorp]

One of my children has an emotional illness that manifested itself when he was six years old. For nine years, while our family has been torn apart, we have prayed for the wisdom and strength to deal with the situation, for his siblings, and, yes, for his healing.

Healing has not come, although there has been some progress. I'm not sure we've been very wise, and strength varies from day to day. His siblings continue to suffer.

Jesus said, "truly I say to you, if you have faith the size of a mustard seed, you will say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move; and nothing will be impossible to you." I suppose our faith isn't that size. But Jesus also cried out, "God, my God, why have you forsaken me?"

So we continue to pray: sometimes resignedly, sometimes desperately, sometimes angrily, rarely if ever believing healing will suddenly be granted, hoping only that somehow, through therapy and medication, he will be able to have a real life for himself and use some of the gifts his sickness hides.

If you ask me why I pray, all I can tell you is that I can't do otherwise (and I've tried). I don't pray as the conclusion to a syllogism; I don't pray hoping my effort will earn my son a "Get Out of Jail Free" card; I don't pray because that was how I was brought up (it wasn't); I don't pray because I'm afraid of being punished if I don't. There is richness there that I can only point to, not explain.

I'll keep you all in my prayers.

hc