the agony of prayer

These past couple years, I've been keeping my thoughts and feelings much closer to my chest (hence the infrequency of posting). Part of it has been to spare others of the schizophrenic expressions of my faith and love. Most of it has been because of shame. I know what I should say in order to seem strong and wise, and sometimes I crack and say what's really on my heart. What is the hardest is knowing that what's on my heart is neither considered strong nor wise; rather it sounds quite stupid.

I have known for several years that I've had a particular conviction that is unpopular among my friends and family, and I've found myself over the years questioning it and being more open with the questioning than of the conviction itself. I'm ashamed of it, and moreover I'm ashamed that I'm ashamed of it. When the topic comes up, I find myself at a loss for words and replace them with tears. I find I can no longer trust my voice, which is often used more to ease others' discomfort than to honor my own. I express cynicism instead of hope, defense instead of acceptance, acquiescence instead of... well, conviction. The conviction has made me a fool, this I know.

I'm currently reading Bertrand Russell's "Why I am Not A Christian". I've finally realized that my difficulty understanding where God stands is on me; it is not God who has changed. And wishing that God would come in a different manifestation, or offer different revelations, makes not a lick of difference. God is; God does. I can't argue any of this away.

Even mountains can be removed by human effort, but anger, rationalization, tears, human counsel, substitution, logical evidence, even agnosticism haven't been able to move my heart. It is; it does.