Dear God

Dear God,

It’s been a long time. To be honest, I never thought I’d come back to the negotiation prayer table. But here I am—not because I want to be here, but because I have nowhere else to go.

I know I screwed up. You condemned all of humanity because my Parseltongue-speaking grandmother Eve ate the wrong apple. My sins are far worse. If you’re mad at me, that makes two of us. Or four? Still not sure how the Trinity works.

If I’m being honest, I’m mad at you too. I’m not sure why. I have enough to eat and live, and wonderful kids I don’t deserve. Maybe I just need someone to blame for everything broken and hurting inside me.

I know the answers are in the Book. Here we go again with the Book—the one that demands an impossible leap of faith. I still can’t leap over your vendetta against foreskins, Jonah in the fish, the slaughter of every firstborn child in Egypt…

Can we just… talk some other way? I know you’re not a fan of Ouija boards, but between the Bible and my skeptical prayers, we haven’t gotten very far.

I know you’re not Santa Claus, even though sometimes I wish you were. So I’ll ask the other Christmas guy for the motorcycle, a treehouse for the kids, and next week’s lottery numbers. I’m not asking you for any of that.

I’m going to seek you again—this time with my heart, not just my head. I’ll try to listen for your voice instead of explaining everything away. I’ll even drop into church once in a while. Please just don’t make me feel dumb for coming back.

Knock, knock.

Your prodigal son