Why Can’t I Pray Like That?
That does sound absolutely perfect. I’m glad that you had a day to yourself. You definitely deserve it! I can’t even imagine being a parent of one child let alone three! I know that having kids is a wonderful part of life, but it is a lifetime commitment and I’m not even close to being ready for that type of commitment. There is no need to rush life, right?
Today I went to church and balled my eyes out. When the minister gave the message to the congregation, her words spoke to me in such a moving way, that I couldn’t hold the tears back. We were celebrating “All Saints Day” and our minister opened her sermon with a story about Mother Teresa, specifically about the book that was published years after Mother Teresa passed on. This book contained letters from Mother Teresa to her superiors and mentors regarding her 50-year long struggle with her believe in God, and her faith. The sermon went on to talk about different types of faith, and it was absolutely beautiful. I started to cry because her story, described how so many of my believes have transformed, or I should say, have become confused since I first felt the call from God to build an orphanage.
I always felt like I believed in God, believed in church, felt like I had a good sense of my faith—but I think that ever since I started traveling to Africa, specifically attending church in Africa, I have questioned whether what I really believe in. When I was at Rehema, every Sunday we would have a church service in a little room with a dirt floor. It was beautiful even in its simplicity. It was beautiful, because the girls made it beautiful with their smiling faces and amazing voices. They would practically lead the service by themselves and there was of course, a lot of singing and dancing, but there was a lot of prayer too. They would pray out loud. It doesn’t seem like a big deal at first, but imagine thirty girls in a tiny room speaking their prayers, speaking to God. It was unbelievably eerie and powerfully moving, all at the same time. It was hard for me to concentrate on my own prayers. There were so many times when I would just look around at the girls. So many of them had their heads bent down low, hands on their eyes, trying to cover the tears that were steadily streaming down their faces. They were almost frantic, needing so badly to be heard. They were so involved, so present, so faithful in those moments of prayer. It still gives me chills when I think about it. Why couldn’t I pray like that? In those moments, I felt like a fake Christian. Is it because I haven’t had a life where my faith was the only thing that kept me going? Have I not experienced enough hardship to need faith like they do? I don’t know the answers, but my questioning began during those services, and ever since my “faith block” has just increased.
Here I am, doing God’s work, following my call and still I have lost my way. I suppose hearing the story of Mother Teresa gave me hope. Maybe I am just crazy, and I am completely over-thinking everything. Maybe it isn’t such a big deal, but I feel like a part of me is missing. Any profound advice?
Kate, here I go talking about faith, like you talk about romance. What a pair we are? I hope you are doing well. I miss you. Write soon!