When I was young, I prayed without really thinking about it. That is to say, I prayed with a belief that my prayers would be heard and answered, with a faith that God really was up there in heaven listening to me.
But, over time, my rational side won out. I didn't pray so much. I didn't see the point to any of it really. If God heard me, it didn't matter much to me because I never heard anything back from Him. None of it really made much sense. Didn't God know what He wanted for my life anyways, and, if He knew that sort of thing already, what sense would it make for me to pray?
And the prayers became fewer and fewer. Until there really were no prayers. But, sometimes when things got really, really hard, I would pray. I'm not sure why I would pray. There was some sort of desperation, some sort of finding myself at the end of my rope, at the end of myself, that compelled me to turn the only way I hadn't before. And that way was up, toward God, toward heaven and all those things I hadn't thought of much before.
And then I would pray. I would pray because there was nothing left to do, nowhere else to go. I would pray even though all logic and common sense told me I was foolish. I would pray even though it was a mystery, even though it made no sense to me.
Surely, I must do something. Surely saying a few words to a God I cannot see isn't enough. Surely there must be some concrete action I can take that would be more sensible than turning to God.
That's what I thought then, but lately it seems to be the actions that make the least sense which sometimes do the most good.
Awhile ago I was remembering a professor I had in college. He taught Philosophy, and I took a few classes from him. One day, like most everyday, he was telling us a story from his own life. When he was a young boy, he learned that a young woman who his family knew was going to become a nun. She'd spent much time in discernment and felt called to this life, and she was taking vows to become a cloistered nun. My professor, as a young child, wondered why a young woman, a woman who could have any future she chose, would choose such an austere life. After all, hers would not be simply the life of a nun, but the life of a cloistered nun.
He asked his mother why the young woman wanted to become a nun, and his mother simply said, "She's doing it for you."
When I think of that story, I feel the depth of that young woman's sacrificial love, and it makes me think that that sort of love, the love that doesn't make any rational or logical sense, is what the Christian life is about. That is the sort of love God has for us, the sort of love that would send a Son to die for our sins. As Romans 5:7-8 says, "Very rarely will anyone die for a righteous man, though for a good man someone might possibly dare to die. But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us."
That's a love that doesn't make sense, a love too big to wrap my mind around. But, He was doing it for us.
And, in knowing this love was given to us, as undeserving as we were and still are, we can only respond in faith. It is that faith which compels the young woman to join religious orders, to spend her life in quiet contemplation of her God, to give her body as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God (Romans 12:1). It is that faith which brought that young woman to daily prayer and devotion, prayers to God for people like us, people on the outside who may or may not have even believed. And yet, she prayed for us, undeserving as we might have been of those prayers.
It is that faith that causes me, when I come to the end of myself and all that I can humanly do, to turn to God. Not because saying words to the sky and air gives me a sense of peace, but because I have faith that there is a God who hears my prayers, that there really is a God who, like a heavenly Father, guides my path even when I can't see Him, even when I'm quite alone.
Like my professor, I used to wonder why people chose a spiritual life. I wondered why, when there were so many things on earth to do and see and worry about, people chose to look up to a God who may or may not have been there, to pray to Him and ask Him for help and guidance.
I didn't know then, but I understand now. All along, those people who chose the spiritual life, who chose to humble themselves and pray to God, knew God would be there for them when they reached the end of themselves, when they trusted Him and put their faith in Him. They turned to Him in prayer because they believed Him, because they loved Him enough to trust Him.
And, they did it for me.
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