Prayer

Being raised in a Christian family, I was taught how to pray at a very early age! Indeed, I can still recite the very first prayer that my most beloved grandma taught me. It was just a very simple five lined prayer, six if you give “amen” its own line. I’ve no translating skills whatsoever so won’t try to do so here, but ask me next time you see me and I’ll recite it for you, okies?

When the parents and I first came over to Australia in 1990, my most beloved grandma came too, for six months. While my parents attended TAFE to learn English (and meet Pole’s parents ^^), my most beloved grandma kept me company at the little apartment in Indooropilly that we rented. And wasn’t she smart? Despite not speaking the English language, she taught herself the rules of tennis and also what was happening during shows like the Bold and the Beautiful and the Young and the Restless! “Oh, she’s going out with him, but he’s actually seeing her, and they’re …” I mean, a quarter-decade later, those shows are STILL going! Does anyone actually watch them??

However, the most amazing thing my most beloved grandma did for me during those six months before she returned to Hong Kong to live was that she taught me how to recite the Lord’s Prayer! I don’t know how she managed to do that because it’s one of the things I still remember, even to this day! Back in July, 2010, when the parents and I returned to Hong Kong for her funeral, I actually led the entire congregation (or whatever all the people attending a funeral are called) in reciting this prayer once, after my parents and I all sang Amazing Grace, my most beloved grandmother’s favourite hymn, in remembrance of her. Actually, if there’s one person I’d like to meet and personally thank, it’s the pianist for the funeral; I’d expected that the parents and I would have to sing it a Capella, but just as I was about to start counting my parents in, the pianist started playing the introduction for this song! However, back to prayer:

There are usually multiple prayers during church service on Sunday; bible studies also generally begin and finish with them. I may have remembered incorrectly (meaning it’s probably wrong, what with my appalling memory post disabling brain injury ><) but wasn’t there a time when I actually used a notebook to write down my prayers to God in?

However, my prayer life took a sharp decline back in 2007, when the cruel and unfaithful God so wantonly destroyed my life with the disabling brain tumour. See, back in the insane asylum (more commonly known to everyone else as the Brain Injuries Rehabilitation Unit of the Princess Alexandra hospital XD), every night He’d send me awful nightmares. Okay, I’m not sure whether it was He who sent them to me personally or was it just He who allowed Satan to send them to me, but either way, I’m still angry with and blaming God, because He surely had the power to prevent Satan from doing so, only He never bothered! >< The nightmares were always the same: I’d be outside my house on the road; it’s dark and I’d be all alone. Terrified, I’d spin wildly in circles, calling for my parents, and then remember that technically, I can’t spin like that anymore, not after how the cruel and unfaithful God’s left me so terribly physically disabled and just fall to the ground. At that point, I’d jerk awake, terrified. Clapping my right hand (post brain injury; my left side’s no longer helpfully functional) over my right eye (the only thing that my left side can do that my right side cannot’s move the eyebrow and fully close the eye; that’s why I wear eye gel several times daily and eye ointment at night) so I couldn’t accidentally see, and I’d cry out silently to God, saying, “God, I’m so scared, please help me… look, I’m so sorry for whatever it was that I did/didn’t do that was so bloody sinful and unforgivable that you thought it was justifiable to totally destroy my life for, but God, please, please when I wake up, could you let my parents still be there for me? Even if they’re about to leave; please, please, God, I’d feel so much better!”

Of course, whenever I opened my eyes, I was all alone. Devastated, I’d cry myself silently back to sleep, only for the cruel and unfaithful God to send me yet another awful nightmare, starting this whole process again.

I went through about one week of this, before realising how stupid that was: my parents had bid me goodnight and left; surely they couldn’t be there anymore! Instead, the next time the cruel and unfaithful God sent me another awful nightmare, after I woke up I’d cry silently out to Him, asking him to save me. Obviously, he didn’t; furthermore, he kept sending me those dreadful nightmares, night after night, so next I prayed to him, asking him to please love me if He wouldn’t heal me nor save me, because surely, surely, I’d feel so much better if I could feel His warm protective love cocooning me? Alas, God wouldn’t do that either, and in the end, I just pleaded with him to BE THERE FOR ME, but guess who never came?? ><

In the first week after I was released from the insane asylum, I was so happy to be finally out. I remember praying to God, telling him I promise I’d work my hardest to keep getting better. Call it delayed reaction if you want, but that’s around how long it took for the anger to set in. Is anger a sin? I sure hope not, because if it is, then cripes, I’m a very sinful person! ><

Suddenly I realised how angry I was with God for so cruelly destroying my life, how furious I was with him for not letting me know what I’d done/not done to deserve such a terrible fate and how much I despised Him for not being there for me when I needed Him the most.

My reaction to that was simple: I quit praying. At that time, I reasoned, “Why should I waste my breathe praying to Someone who doesn’t even bother listening to me? Why even bother talking to Someone who won’t even consider responding?”

For one whole year, I refused to pray. Sure, whenever we were asked to close our eyes and bow our heads in prayer at church, I’d comply, but as I listened to the sermon-giver/chairperson/person praying for the congregation, whenever things like “You are faithful”, “You are loving” or “You look after us” were said, in my own head, I’d silently deny those sayings, replying in kind with “You haven’t been faithful to me,”, “If You truly love me, You have a damn awful way of showing it,” or “You most certainly have not looked after me.” Basically, I was just so angry with the cruel and unfaithful God that I didn’t want to talk to Him at all. Is that called the silent treatment?

After one year of totally ignoring God (exactly like how He’d ignored me, right when I needed Him the most) I decided it wasn’t very Christian-like of me not to pray to Him, so I tried starting again. However, because I believed that God was totally not trustworthy, I also addressed my prayers to someone else. Mother would jeer at me that you can only pray to God and that you can only chat to other people, so I was like, whatever. Dunno if what I was doing was called praying, chatting, chat-praying or prayer-chatting, but that was the most I’d give to God. Actually, I’d begin most of these chats/prayers/whatevers with, “I don’t really want to talk to You at all because You have never been there for me, especially when I needed you the most. If you could kindly just eff off, that’d make my life a lot easier. But if you insist on hanging around, fine. Only I don’t want you anywhere near me. Stay AWAY from me, do you hear? Go look after my most beloved grandma in heaven. Make sure she’s got an awesome house to live in, with all the furnishings and appliances she wants. Make sure she’s got an awesome car to drive, with a wonderful driver to take her around everywhere. Someone who helps her in and out of the car, someone who helps her with her seatbelt and someone who lets her listen to whatever she wants, but doesn’t force her to listen to crappy Christian music. Or else go look after Mickey in Hong Kong. Make sure he grows up a nice big strapping young lad, who listens to his parents, remembers his grandma and loves his Em biu jie. Other than that, please bugger off.”

Near the end of 2013, a SHINE fellowship sister asked me, “Em, do you ever pray to god anymore?” At that time, my bitter reply had been, “Why would I? I’m just so angry at what He’s done to me!” However, she replied, “Then just tell him that. God’s big enough to take whatever you throw at him.”

I took her advice, and back in my reflections for 2013, you can find me telling God how much I hated Him, how much I loathed Him and how much I DESPISED him for destroying my life back in 2007 without ever letting me know what I’d done/not did to deserve such a fate. I mean, if He’d said, “You’re not reading the Bible enough”, “you’re not singing worship songs loud enough” or “You’re not giving enough offering”, I would’ve tried hard to rectify those errors! But by keeping me from the answer, how was I ever supposed to understand why and what needed doing for me to better myself?? ><

For several years now, I’ve signed up for a devotion called The Word For Today. Everyday, it delivers me a short devotion to my inbox, which I read twice (usually once in the afternoon and once more in the evening) and try to remember the topic title. It’s hard, what with the awful memory the cruel and unfaithful God has abandoned me with, but hey, I still try. Recently, I received about six devotions entitled Prayer. Yes, Prayer (1) through to Prayer (6). After reading through nearly one week’s worth of devotions about prayer, I felt convicted to start try praying to God again. Originally, I was unsure about where and how to start, but then I remembered a formula I learnt back when I was small (in primary school), called the ACTS method. The ‘A’ stood for ‘adoration’, the ‘C’ ‘confession’, the ‘T’ thanksgiving’ and the ‘S’ ‘supplication’.

Back when I first decided to try start praying to God again, I didn’t even know where to begin. Sure, I’d heard the chairperson, the worship leader and the sermon giver during Sunday service begin their prayers with openings like, “Dearest heavenly Father,” or “Our blessed lord Jesus,” but I didn’t really feel inclined to lavish praise on somebody I considered so unfaithful. In the end, I began with “Hi God,” because that sounded fairly neutral. So, yeah. “Hi God, thanks for getting me through another day today. Like everyday, it’s been rough, but there have been good things too.”

I would then apologise to God for not spending much time on the adoration bit. I mean yeah, I can spout praises as well as any worship leader might do on any given Sunday service, but it’s not like I mean any of what I’m saying. Actually, last year around Easter, I asked a question of Pastor Chris that I thought may have been blasphemous, so before I asked him it, I got his promise that he wouldn’t toss me bodily out of the church. XD

See, back in 2002, I was lucky enough to achieve dux of grade ten. I’m pretty sure that was my highest educational achievement; I wasn’t smart enough to earn that award any other year! For that, I received a paper certificate (it’s lying boxed away somewhere upstairs, I think?) and a really weirdly shaped trophy, that I had to return to the school after I took photos with it.

But like I said, that was twelve years ago. I don’t ever mention that it happened anymore, neither does my mother, and as for my dad, I’m pretty sure he’s forgotten that it actually ever happened. XD

See, Jesus died for the sins of everyone in the past, now, and however long people will still come like more than 2000 years ago. I repeat: MORE THAN TWO THOUSAND YEARS AGO. I realise it’s almost impossible to trump such a feat; I mean, where else will you find someone willing to die for everyone else? But this happened all so long ago, so why are we still praising him?? Yes, You did something amazing, but how come we’re still going on about it to this day??

Phew, Pastor Chris didn’t immediately throw me bodily from the church (prolly coz I’m too fat to be lifted and chucked XD). He explained that Jesus still got praised because what he’d done for mankind so many years ago still affected people to this very day, whereas my being awarded dux of year ten back in 2002 didn’t affect anyone.

Fair enough. I admit, though, I still found it hard to praise him precisely because of how badly he has treated me. I’m sorry I’m not as brave/strong/whatever as Nick (the guy without limbs) or Joni Tada (the woman who dived and broke her neck; her maiden name’s sth unspellable like Eareckson) that still find it in their hearts to praise/love/worship God despite what he’s done to them. Fair enough, I admit I admire Joni much more than I admire Nick, because Nick was born without limbs; he never knew what it was like to have them, whereas Joni and I were both fully functional people before God so cruelly took everything away. But I digress; that’s a topic for another day …

So yes, adoration’s a hard topic for me to express towards God, especially when I don’t feel any towards him whatsoever. More the complete opposite. But I try, like, giving him praise for creating the world and everything beautiful in it, etc. I suppose the only thing I can do is keep persevering with it; perhaps it’ll come more naturally and sincerely to me one day.

After adoration came confession. I’m pretty sure I haven’t ever committed any heinous, indictable offences, but I will freely confess to harbouring resentful thoughts and the like. I think that’s sin. So I confess them to god and ask him to please teach me how to avoid from committing them again. It hasn’t quite worked yet; most says I still catch myself harbouring resentful thoughts, but hey, I try.

Thanksgiving follows confession. At first, I was wondering, what the hell did I have to thank god for? It’s because of him that I’m so physically disabled, can’t study, don’t have a steady paid job, have like no friends (actually, I’d like to think I’ve got friends, but awful mother’s jeered at me often enough that I don’t have any friends because I’m always displaying unacceptable social behaviour, etc. I now just call them my peers), but after considering the grand scheme of things, I realise I can still thank god for creating the world and everything in it and also that my mother’s life can still be so damn easy for her. I mean sure, if you listen to her whinge, whine, complain, moan and groan, you’d think that only she suffers and only she struggles, that she suffers the most, struggles the most and my life is piss easy for me because I’ve got carers for that do everything for me, and I apologise if this makes me an evil person but sometimes, I wish it were true too! I mean, how much easier would my life be for me if it could be true that my life were so easy that all I had to do would be point, say please and thank-you and it’d be done for me??

Nearly everyday, I cannot help but help but wish that were true, but definitely everyday, I always, always, always, Always, ALWAYS, take that back with my very next breath because I really don’t want God to be as cruel and unfaithful to her as He has been to me!! So yeah, God has my heartfelt thanks in this matter; that mother gets the luxury to think that only she struggles and suffers and that she suffers and struggles the most. You’d think that just by observing us, it’d be obvious that her life was bazillions of times easier than mine is, I mean, take the phone for example. If that rings, mother will just get up and go answer it. I can’t. If the phone isn’t within reach, I will probably just let it ring out, because I’m not entirely certain that I can get to the phone without falling over! For people who are mobile, such a task requires no thought whatsoever, but for me, should the phone ring while not inside my immediate reach and I had to get up in order to go and answer it, I’d haveta think about which foot to move next, which side my weight should be on, and take into account that my next step could send me crashing to the floor, unable to get up. My UQ physio has told me that falling isn’t a big deal, that when you fall you just get back up. My point is, if I fall, I can’t get back up without assistance! Why do you think I’m always so freaked out about falling?? Most people who have a tumble to the ground just laugh then get themselves back up; I can’t! Were I to fall, I’d have to remain on the floor until somebody came by and pulled me back up! >< So yes, thanks be to God who gives my mother such a relatively easy life.

Finally, supplication. Here’s the part where we can ask for things. Google defines supplication as ‘the action of asking or begging for something earnestly or humbly.’ Well, I ask and beg, but I’m not confident that I’ll receive. Would that be because I don’t ask humbly enough? I’ll confess, I’m not sure exactly what the difference is between asking and asking humbly. But yeah, every night, I’ve pleaded with god to heal me, to restore my life back to me, but have not received any reply whatsoever. Okay, there have been two potential chances at healing, but mother totally denied me those opportunities, so now I’m just stuck pleading to god for healing. *sigh*

So there you have it, my prayer life right from the very beginning till now. I’m still not convinced that praying will help me whatsoever, but I’ve decided to keep trying at it until something happens. Or until I get discouraged. XD who knows?

Next post here … well, Valentine ’s Day was last Saturday, and Iwent out! Maybe I’ll have something to write about that! Anyways, until then~

Cheers,

Em. ^^