I’m Sad That I Can’t Talk With God…
With every part of who I am, I wish I could talk with God in the same way we talk with the people we love.
But I can’t. And I’ve tried so many times.
Now I absolutely know there are billions who pray to God in some form. And I have too.
But I feel like I talk TO God instead of talking WITH God.
Now before I infuriate you, please know I am not questioning your beliefs nor trying to convince you of anything. I just wish I could sit down with the amazing being or force that created or allowed the creation of this spectacularly amazing and mysterious universe. All of it exists so far beyond my understanding that I feel incredibly intellectually impaired.
And I get that there must be reasons why we can’t, reasons why He can’t or won’t just sit with me from time to time to talk about all these questions I have about every single thing.
And I give tremendous respect because I feel like all of life is such a gift, even beyond the pain that all of us endure as we go through it.
But still there’s this sadness.
And sometimes anger.
I almost hate that I actually wrote that last sentence. Angry with God?! Really?! Who do I think I am, anyway?!!
But it’s honest. And anger is always just a cover emotion for the real pain. And my real pain is that — a lot of times — I have felt lost and abandoned because there are 4,300 or so known versions of God and religions so far, and everyone feels they are right.
It’s so confusing.
I just wish we could settle it once and for all, with a nice sit down where I could spend several hours expressing my overwhelming appreciation and gratitude for how lucky I am to have ever been allowed one single moment of this bittersweet beautiful existence.
That really is how I feel.
I’d love to ask how it all works. All of it.
I’d ask about the billions of galaxies and the trillions of stars.
And the way my eyes fill up when I think about my kids.
And how I never want it to end.
So I fumble through. A lot.
I pray and say thank you and then ask what the better plan is for my life.
And I wish I’d get an answer back like my Dad always gave me when I felt lost or didn’t know what to do. And I wish I could really say thank you for the friends and family I’ve been gifted to have.
But I know it doesn’t work in exactly the same way as we do things down here. And that’s ok. Who am I to make demands after being given so much without ever having to do anything?
But I can still hope.
How great would it be to know why innocent people die, why seemingly evil people prosper, and why violent acts of nature can destroy life in mere seconds?
It hurts my head. Yet still I can’t help but feel grateful. All of it is endlessly bittersweet beautiful.
I hope He knows that. I hope He can hear me.
And just like that, the sun sets in a color I’ve never seen before. Maybe the most beautiful answers don’t come in words…