Rendezvous
29 July 04 : 10.55 PM
I want to believe in God so much that sometimes I feel this naïveté is so utterly overwhelming and it frightens me. I want to be able to look up into a starless sky and pray and still believe in beliefs and still be able to hope for hope.
But I can't. Maybe I've been jaded, but I wish so much that maybe there's more to life than this. That a God up there is pathing a way for us and He loves us. But the idea of that is just so intangible.
I'm stifling in my own incompetence.
I've been calloused by everything of the late, and believing in the existence of God can only be an isolated theory made up by people who live before false mirages, trying hard not to be pessimistic about everything.
Dad used to have a morning prayer, a prayer of thanks, that everyday while in the car, he'll say. I used to be able to recite it quietly. But he's since stopped.
Once, I asked Dad why doesn't he say his prayers anymore, hoping he might realise maybe everything's going wrong because of his lack of faith, but what he said made more sense than I could ever make.
Sylvia told me about the powers of prayers. She believes in God totally, and it's scary really, to see someone so taken by the idea of someone up there who is directing our lives though you've never seen Him. No, but to her, He really does exists, too glorious for our vision, but His love can be felt. I listen to her stories and want to believe in them the way she does, but it just doesn't add up. Nothing does.
Sometimes, I pity those devout in their worship of God because what if at the end of the day when we all die and all that's left is nothing, not even a God to welcome you with arms wide open into the Pearly Gates, what will become of them then? Then I'm thinking they're just justifying a reason for all the trials in their life, believing that God is there strewing obstacles down on us like flowers at a church aisle, so it will mould us into better people.
Maybe this way they wouldn't feel so lost. Maybe this way, at least this would give them the strength and reason to fight on. Maybe there is a God, that I just cannot believe in, though I want to.
The truth of the matter is, God is only a concept for me to rebuke and blame when things go wrong and I'm crying all alone.
Today, Lex and I spoke about spirituality.
"I'm a Christian but I have my own set of beliefs. Does that mean I'm religious?"
"I don't know. Just give me something I can believe in, and I promise I'd be."