Did you think to Pray?

One of my most interesting life experiences occurred in my college Physics class.  The professor one day threw out the statement that there was no God.  The room seemed to explode since it was at a school with a fairly religious demographics.  What fascinated me was that all these students with religious backgrounds not one of them bore their testimony of their belief in God.  They all tried to logically explain God and His part in the Universe.  Since I was raised in a home that thrived on arguments, I knew better than to step into the heat of battle.  I waited until after class was over.  I then approached the professor and with no anger or desire to prove a point I asked, "Do you believe in a supreme being?"  I phrased this carefully because I am aware that what name a person uses for supreme being can vary.  His answer floored me, "Every scientist, I am not referring to social scientist they are not scientist, knows there is a supreme being.  The odds are too astronomical for life to be an accident."  I think I was the only one that walked out of that class feeling like my testimony in God had been validated. 

This morning I woke up remembering a phrase 'Ere you left your room this morning, did you think to pray?'  Prayer has been a real difficult thing for me.  I have prayed for over 30 years as to why I had such an odd feeling that something was really wrong with me.  God took His own time to answer.  Now I know that I suffer from PTSD.  I have finally remembered bits and pieces of my childhood with the help of KavinCoach.  I decided that God waited for me to connect with KavinCoach before He let my mind release the horrors of my past.  From about age 12 to 45 I had almost no memories of my childhood.  In the first few weeks of counseling KavinCoach asked me to tell him about my childhood.  I quickly replied with a pat answer, "It was great.  We went to the park and we went to the zoo."  His look at me was sooooo skeptical. "Tell me an average day."   I repeated, "I went to the park and went to the zoo, it was a great childhood."  KavinCoach wasn't buying.  He stated, "You have no idea about your childhood."  He was the first person to ever see past the lie I had told since high school.  I sheepishly admitted,  "I was amazed in high school that any one could remember their childhood."  I had a daddy like other little girl's daddy that prayed for safety of the family everyday.  But I wasn't safe in our neighborhood or even in my family.  I was hurt daily.  Did God not answer his prayers?  So here came the paradox.  Out of a childhood from Hell, I have an unwavering belief that there is a God and He loves me.  I am reading another book on boundaries and this particular book is discussing how a person forms boundaries while they mature through childhood years.  My life did not follow the "healthy" pattern.  This book, like a lot of psychology books, explains a hierarchy of maturing with the last pinnacle understanding our relationship to God.  So how did I miss all the other steps and have a solid belief in God when my foundation was created in the most unhealthy, emotionally distorted childhood?  

I decided that God answers prayers His way and not the way people expect Him to and certainly not in my time frame.  I remember in high school when my group of friends felt it was their moral obligation to 'save me' from my religion since they didn't agree with what was taught at my church.  They were all shocked when I changed friends instead of religions.  My new friends were not members of my church but they didn't try to 'save me' either.  I just knew that by high school I had a very firm belief in God no matter what people thought of me at church or my friends tried to pressure me at school.  My testimony in God was rock solid.  My understanding of why He let this world get into such a mess was a little fuzzy but there was no doubt in my heart that He existed.  Now reading this psychology book I am again presented with how did I get this belief in God that so loved the world that He sent His only begotten Son to Earth to die for our sins?  It certainly wasn't because He answered my prays the way I wanted or in a timely manner.  It wasn't because I had matured through all the correct psychological phases.   I was raised in a family where Church was put before family.  I didn't fit any pattern of why I should have such a strong faith that God lived and Jesus was my savior.  But that was just it, I knew Jesus Christ was my savior and that God the Eternal Father sent Him to get me out of my hell hole.  KavinCoach once asked me why did Christ have to suffer in Gethsemane.  I replied, "So He would know where in Hell to find me."  I pray daily.  More discussions I think and if I am angry with how things are going under God's supervision I tell Him.  I like my sister's perspective, "God already knows you are angry with Him.  You may as well admit it so you can move on to a discussion of what to do about it."  Prayer is my one on one conversation with my Heavenly Father with Jesus Christ being my mediator.  I couldn't make it without out Him.  So did I think to pray?  Not always, when depression is swamping my mind it is hard to remember who to call on for help.  When I do remember, I don't always know what to say or even what to ask.  I just know that on the days that I talk my life over with God I feel better.  Not a perfect day but better than how I do without prayer.