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Prayer

Shortly after I began to question the truth claims of the church, I realized that almost everything I knew about God or Jesus was via the teachings of Joseph Smith. This posed a problem for me since I felt I could no longer trust the source. What followed was that, suddenly, I had to confront all of these things I thought I knew and had taken for granted about the nature of God.

  • Did he have a physical body?
  • Was he the father of my spirit?
  • Was he even a he?
  • Was god even there?
  • How did he/she/it interact with me, if at all?
  • Did prayer still have a purpose?
In the early stages of my faith transition--deep in "crisis" mode, as it were--before I had even considered any of the bullet points above, I continued to pray as I had always done. "Dear Heavenly Father... thank you, and please bless... ." I needed that familiar, ritualistic comfort. I needed to feel like something was unchangeable amidst the cracking crust of my shifting ideology. But I almost immediately changed what I prayed for.

I stopped praying for safety. I hoped for it, surely. But I stopped praying for it as if the life of my family, immediate and extended, depended on it. I stopped praying that my children would miraculously start feeling better if they weren't well. I hoped for it. I thought about the steps I needed to take, and the things I could control, but I didn't pray for the things I couldn't. I stopped praying for the Spirit to be with me. (More on that perhaps in another post.) Basically, I deleted the laundry list of things I prayed for each night, and stopped worrying about the form of the prayer. I no longer worried about kneeling down or praying out loud or praying for help or intervention at every turn throughout the day.

You see, in my life, I had very much internalized the scripture in Alma 37:37: "Counsel with the Lord in all thy doings, and he shall direct thee for good... " [emphasis added.]

If you are an active/believing member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, you are probably feeling sad at these words. What a terrible loss it must be to lose the constant companionship of a loving father in heaven, who knows and sees everything, and is deeply involved in all aspects of our lives.

Let me try to offer another perspective--one that has brought me a lot of peace: Imagine instead that you no longer have to constantly worry that you do not have the power within yourself to do the things you need to do. Imagine that you are no longer hyper-reliant on an outside source that sometimes answers and sometimes doesn't, for reasons often unclear. Imagine that you don't have to grapple with the soul-sickening question of why an all powerful god would help me find my keys, but would not help the child dying of cancer. I know that Mormonism has a lot of speculative answers as to why god helps some and not others--and a lot of it has to do with agency and such. But again, I'm asking you to just imagine that you have all--or at least a lot--of the tools you need to navigate your life in your mental toolbox already, and that you just have to tap into them with a little bit of focused thought. You don't have to ask anybody for them, and you certainly don't need to beg.

So, do I still pray? Well... yes. I still believe in a god of sorts. I don't know the exact nature of god. My wise Aunt Leslie told me that she imagines she is speaking with a consortium of wise women who have all gone on before. I love that idea. For now, I'll continue to "pray" to the universe, to stop and take account of the things I am grateful for, to set my intent for the morning or the evening. The power is in me.  I think it has always been.



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