Praying is either a powerful procedure to perform in the eyes of a devout individual in their faith, or a useless concept in the eyes of one who doesn’t believe in a higher power.
Praying can be a trivial chore to pursue for those brought up in a particular faith or those who still practice that particular faith; striving for salvation by pleasing someone upstairs can become quite tiresome. For those irreligious or of a non theistic religion, prayer can be the key to exude positive energy into the world; just because one isn’t necessarily listening, it doesn’t mean they can’t be triumphant.
At the age of four or five, I was introduced to God by my parents. They helped me and my siblings get into contact with God by making us bow our heads, place our palms together, and announce a rhyme as a call for protection throughout the night. Who was “God”? And with the stories of heroes in the Bible, why was this “Jesus” thanked the most? …Oh, right. Then were we supposed to pray to two “Gods,” not just one? The rhyming was always fun, but I was so confused.
At the age of ten, God was still in the picture, and Jesus was no longer blurry in the same image. Not as many Christian poems during our conversations anymore, which were most of the time one-sided. The story of Jesus having nails jammed into hands and feet onto a tree was a horror movie in my mind. But it was sweet at the same time. Someone loved us that much? That made no sense to me, but I enjoyed the thought of someone listening twenty-four/seven.
At the age of sixteen, the third component of the Holy Trinity, the Holy Spirit, stopped being foggy. The child-like thoughts of two to three Gods instead of the claim of one God being in prayer and the Bible came back on some occasions. I appreciated the whole story of the Holy Trinity, and I was comfortable calling myself a Christian because it gave me purpose. God gave me purpose, and He still does. However, when it came to praying, I was either a bit lazy, or I thought it was useless at times. An omnipotent being such as Jehovah Jireh obviously had plenty of other things to do that had nothing to do with my adolescent problems. He was in charge of the important binaries of life: night, day, life, death, we know them all. He had to work on the cure of cancer, mitigate the effects of poverty. My depression, stress, anger, and sadness can’t always be on His list. Besides, our conversations were still pretty one-sided, so it surprised me when He allowed good things to happen to me when I couldn’t even hear from Him.
At the age of eighteen going on nineteen, I still have questions, but it becomes clearer as I grow in my spiritual relationship with God and prayer, I believe. In an earthly sense, my problems are trivial compared to others such as cancer, poverty, war, etc. Nevertheless, those problems are still mine, and God sees that. God views all of our problems as the same, therefore, He makes time for all of those problems equally. Regardless of the orders of sins and issues in our infernos, God wants to heal all. Yes, I said ALL. How is He supposed to fix anything if I don’t ask Him to? How is He supposed to bring anyone out of strife, not just myself, if I don’t continuously seek Him? Without all of that, the conversation will always either be one-sided or silent.