When Christianity Failed Me
And where I found answers
Once upon a time, I had all the answers to life’s problems. On the odd occasion I did not, I could still rationalize it as a trial designed to help me grow in my faith and maturity. During those times, I believed God was with me, helping me through that hardship and giving me strength.
Christianity also taught me that suffering and sickness were simply part of this fallen world — that’s just how it was, so I needed to put on my big girl panties and deal. At the time, it made sense because there was potential redemptive value in suffering — right?
That is until my baby granddaughter got stage IV cancer at three months.
…and all my prayers for her hit some kind of invisible forcefield, refusing to let them through.
I’m not sure I can convey how utterly stricken I felt at my inability to pray for my granddaughter, Anna. I kid you not. Poof! Whenever I tried, there was an empty space in my head, and nothing happened. No words, nothing. Just echoing silence. I could not understand and felt bereft. Why, in God’s name, could I not pray for my granddaughter? It felt cruel.
To add insult to injury, after weeks of wrestling with my impotence in prayer, I met a woman in the hospital elevator who — between the lobby and the 5th floor —…
