Writing One Page at a Time
I needed you today. I prayed to you, to God, but…nothing happened. Being alive isn’t enough to prove your existence. I went through so much this past week. Dealing with losing someone isn’t easy for us humans. I read the comfort of John in the bible but still felt empty…cold…alone. I try to keep my faith, to hold onto my morals, but the deafening silence to my prayers leaves me shattered and incomplete. I don’t feel the Holy Spirit as I should…just as when I was baptized all I felt was the water. I didn’t feel clean, no reprieve a victim of church. They don’t teach you, they just speak of you and your trials and tribulations.
They think they know you inside and out, but they are as clueless as I am. Do they have conversations with you? No, they speak to you and the thoughts that enter their free thinking mind they believe to be your voice. Could it be that Mary and Mary were so distraught, so drunken from the night before, that they convinced each other of your rising from the grave? Who’s to say you body wasn’t stolen and desecrated or mummified and hidden?
People looked alike, who’s to say when you appeared you weren’t just someone else playing a rouse, one of your devout followers? No one will know for certain, they just “have their faith” that it’s true.
But what if it’s not?
Daughter of Christ
P.S. I’m not sure how much longer I can believe in someone who doesn’t answer my prayers. I believed in Santa Clause and now look..don’t let my faith falter, Father.