Smock Blogs

Scrolling through images of the devastation left behind by Hurricane Helene, I nearly did what I had done for years when faced with immeasurable catastrophe, but the half formed prayer never happened.

I miss praying, the warmth that comes from the knowledge that I’ve offered up what I can to some loving deity who would hear my entreaties and if enough of us prayed the right prayer, God would do something about it.

That if I was righteous enough, and sincere enough, and “fervent” in my cries to God, then He would bestir Himself on my behalf, and hear my prayer, and answer it the way I had asked it.

This is isn’t about God, not really, but about the version of God that won’t do anything unless His people pray. Because that God? Isn’t a loving God, because if you love someone, you act on their behalf when they’re in pain. You don’t wait for them to ask you, and you sure as hell don’t make sure they ask you the right way.

If there is a God, a deity, a force in the universe, and some part of me believes in those things, I’d like to think that being, that entity, isn’t sipping a latte somewhere scrolling through the prayers getting sent their way. Picking who to help, or to let down.