I Say A Little Prayer for You…
Hmm, a serious theological post from me. What is the world coming to?
But I have something that I need to get off my chest. It’s about prayer.
I believe in God. I think that’s an important context for my post. I was raised Southern Baptist. I resigned from the Southern Baptist Convention, a decision I didn’t make lightly, having been very involved in my church - I was even a Sunday School teacher (!). But I couldn’t stay a part of the Convention, not after a good friend was railroaded out of town for (gasp) being gay and then, rather than focus on local problems that affect us profoundly, like the homeless and hungry in our towns, the Convention felt the need to squander our dollars planning protests against Disney for airing “Ellen.” So I quit. My minister refused to drop me from the rolls, explaining that I needed time to think. The following year confirmed my beliefs, when the Convention wasted more time and money, explaining why women, including my mother were no longer recognized as Deacons. How dare the “Church” arbitrarily decide that women can’t be effective ministers. My mother, as a Deacon, probably spent more time and energy visiting the sick and elderly than most preachers. When we had no money growing up, my mother still insisted that we give our money to those who needed it more. She spearheaded efforts to raise funds for needy children at Christmastime, she collected school supplies for children each August. She made dinners for the homeless. She traveled around teaching Vacation Bible Schools and tutored illiterate adults in our home. My mom is the kind of person that people of God should aspire to be. Yet, the Southern Baptist Convention, rather than encourage this action, told her and women like her, that they were no longer wanted in the ministry. That, easily, reinforced my decision to not be associated with Southern Baptist Convention.
I was, for years, a girl without religion. I now occasionally visit our local Episcopal Church. I find their tolerance refreshing. My daughter was baptized as Lutheran, in the same church where Chris and I were married.
So, I say all this to say that I do believe in God. I do consider myself a religious person, though, these days, disenchanted with much of organized religion, I am not an active church-goer. And I do respect the religious beliefs of others, as I hope that they respect mine.
And herein lies the problem.
My family, and many of my friends, are far more religious than me. I am fine with that notion. I happily accept the illustrated Bibles for my children, the “angel” coloring books and the Advent calendars. My parents bought Katie a small creche for Christmas and she was thrilled. I explained the story of Christmas to her and she listened very intently, though clearly she missed part of it since later, Diego, Dora and Baby Jaguar were all hanging out with the Magi.
But, with this increased awareness of religion has come lots and lots of talk about prayer - mostly from my family. At first, it was harmless enough. My parents insisted on Grace before every meal with the girls. Fine. And every time Katie had a sniffle, it made the Prayer Chain at my parents’ church. Also fine. The more prayers, the better. And then, when Amy’s hair was slow to come in - and thin - that made the Prayer Chain. My weight has been on the Prayer Chain. My job. My marriage. You name it. While my mother would shudder at how “public” my life is on my blog, she has no qualms about putting my “female problems” on the Prayer Chain. And I have learned, over the years, that I can live with that.
It’s now gone a little further than the Prayer Chain. All cards - birthday or otherwise - now have handwritten Bible verses and reasons to pray. And emails from home have become exhortations to prayer.
It has gotten to the point where I literally feel like Dolly Parton’s character, Truvy, in “Steel Magnolias” who watches Daryl Hannah’s character, Annelle, go through a bizarre change of behavior where she prays all of the time. When M’Lynn asks what Annelle is praying about, Truvy responds “Maybe she’s praying for Drew and Belle. Maybe she’s praying for us because we’re gossiping. Maybe she’s praying because the elastic is shot in her pantyhose! Who knows! She prays at the drop of a hat these days.”
I’ve been asked to pray for the new baby, for my brother who is out to sea, for my older brother’s new house, for my Dad’s job. You name it. My favorite was recently, my Dad told me to pray for my mother who, having a diabetic episode, passed out in the parking lot of the shopping center. Dad says to me that she was “real bad” for thirty minutes and that I needed to “lift her up in prayer.” When I asked Dad if he took her to the doctor, he said no, that there was nothing that the doctor could do. Umm, yeah, there is. Cause diabetes is a real life condition - and maybe they could adjust her insulin again.
Everything, it seems, is like this. No real action is taken except a nice, long prayer.
I actually told Dad at Thanksgiving that if the prayers for the food were going to be that long in the future, I was going to start eating in the middle of them. Of course, I also noted that this Thanksgiving, he didn’t thank God for President Bush - as he has in the past. I think Dad realizes that even God doesn’t want to take credit for the last election…
Again, I respect the right to individual religious beliefs. I just don’t want so much of it in my own life. I would love to get an email from my family that doesn’t involve prayer - just one - though I will exempt any that mention God and ACC basketball together.
I know that my family just worries that I need to find some religion. Trust me, I don’t need to look - it isn’t lost (and neither am I). I just choose to honor God a little differently. I don’t leave “everything” up to God because I believe I have some personal responsibility, too. God, despite his omnipotence, isn’t, on his own, keeping me away from the Cadbury’s chocolate in the cupboard or healing my mother without some guidance from her doctor.
Sigh. All that said, in the grand scheme of things, I know this post, if my parents see it, will land me on the prayer chain. Again. If Blogger goes down as a result, you’ll know why.