Skip to main content

Praying selfishly?

In her book Eat, pray, love, Liz Gilbert explains how her understanding of prayer is challenged.  During her gruelling divorce she prays often, but doesn't feel it right to ask God to change her situation. Her thinking is that, if she is going through difficult times, maybe God wants her to go through them, in order to learn something.  Praying for God to change the circumstances seems like a weakness of faith.  Instead, she prays that God would give her the strength to cope with whatever life throws at her.

A friend tells Liz that this is stupid - that it is fine for her to ask God for specific things she needs.  Liz describes a bizarre conversation she has in the car with this friend, where Liz actually writes a 'petition' to God in her notebook, asking him to get her husband to sign the divorce papers.  The very painful process of separating from each other has dragged on for eighteen months by this point, and if the papers are not signed they will have to go to court, which will take another year and involve very public recriminations, not to mention the expense.  So Liz writes her petition, signs it, and she and her friend list all their friends and acquaintances, and imagine them signing the petition.  Then they imagine all the famous people who would sign the petition too.  Finally, greatly cheered up, Liz falls asleep in the car (her friend is driving).  Shortly after she wakes up, her phone rings, and it is her lawyer calling to tell her that her husband has just signed.

Doubtless some people would have issues with the idea of praying to God to help end a marriage.  I sympathise, but I think it's important to realise that, during this time, Liz is clearly suffering from severe depression, fantasising about ending her life and refusing medication (which seems to her like a weakness - another stupid idea she has picked up!).  Whatever the rights and wrongs of her divorce, and her husband is clearly hurting a great deal too, the marriage is very much over by this point, and it's simply a question of how painful the ending will be.   

I wonder if there is a balance to be struck between praying for specific things and asking God to give us strength to cope with whatever happens.  While I believe God definitely does answer specific prayers at times, clearly there are many desperate situations which carry on being desperate, despite our prayers.  I absolutely do not believe, however, that God intentionally lets us go through tough times in order to teach us things.  He is not a sadist; he is a loving parent.  I don't think any loving parent has ever let their child run around with scissors, waiting for them to fall and cut themselves so that they will 'learn a lesson'.  Instead he suffers our trials with us, perhaps using these trials to teach us after the fact, but never willing us harm.  

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Making the best of a bad situation

This morning, instead of going to church, I put this note through all the houses on our street. Despite being an extrovert, I have a tendency toward social anxiety. Despite being an evangelist, I really hate door knocking. As I approached each door, I noticed lots of “no junk mail” stickers and felt briefly worried. One sticker said “no unaddressed mail”. Putting notes through the doors of people I’d never met - even though we live within a few dozen metres of each other - felt risky. Even worse - some people were outside their houses. I actually had to talk to them! “Don’t worry, I won’t come too close,” was my opening gambit. As someone who suffered from OCD as a young adult, fear of contaminating others is quite a familiar sensation. We Brits have the reputation of being standoffish and maybe a bit antisocial, and the virus is not helping in this regard. And yet, I live in the commuter belt; many of us on our street go off to London on trains every morning and come home late

Halloween

It's that magical time of year again - that one night when my small neighbours knock on my door asking for sweeties.  This year, I'm properly prepared: I have two pumpkins (I wanted five, but decided to be thrifty), a big tub of sweets and a tube of 100 glow sticks.  The sweets are my concession to popular demand; the glow sticks are an attempt to represent light in darkness (a symbolism which will doubtless be lost on the kids).  I'm seeing the pumpkin as my main opportunity to communicate something of my Christian faith to my neighbours. One year, while I was at theological college, Halloween fell on a Sunday.  The new housing estate church I was assigned to met in a church hall on Sunday afternoons and many of the congregation were unaccompanied children.  I googled 'Christian pumpkin carvings' and guess what - there are a lot of ideas out there, America being a country which is big on Halloween and big on Christianity too.  I decided to carve a simple fish and c

Only connect

Last year on Ash Wednesday I attended an ashing service at St Paul's Cathedral.  The service focused on confessing our sins and asking God's forgiveness.  During the service a berobed priest made the sign of the cross in ash on my forehead.  I thought this was pretty cool and refused my husband's request that I rub it off for the train journey home.  Then we ran into an old work colleague of mine and I felt rather stupid. Ash Wednesday, the first day of Lent, is all about sin and repentance - 'sackcloth and ashes' and all that.  But I wonder how many people in the UK today identify with the idea that they are sinners in need of forgiveness?  My final year dissertation at theological college focused on the dilemma of how to call to repentance people who do not think they have anything of which to repent.  I certainly didn't think of myself as a sinner when I first started exploring Christianity.  I knew I wasn't perfect, but hey, who is? I have heard sin desc