I’m Not Religious, but I Believe in the Power of Prayer
I hate the expression, “I’m not religious,” almost as much as I loathe hearing people admit, “I’m not political.” Both statements make me wonder, what is it you are trying to say about yourself, and what are you afraid that people will believe about you. I’ve grappled with my lack of religious identity for decades. There was a time in my life when I was a proud agnostic toying with the idea of atheism even. For me, religion is antithetical to free will, and I’ll admit that I’m terrified of group think.
I’m not allowed to take communion because I’ve never been baptized. In many (if not all) sects of Christianity, that means I’ll be in limbo for all eternity. My soul isn’t even good enough for any of the nine circles of damnation. There are many who not only believe this, but they accept the idea as true. But there is a difference between truth and belief, and I live by the mantra, “just because you believe something, that doesn’t make it true.”
What I Know to Be True
I know that before I turned 50, I had lost two friends to cancer. My own life had been turned upside down after a former student’s parents filed bullying charges against me. I was deeply depressed, suffered from suicidal ideation, and two of the women whom I turned to for comfort were robbed from me—to say nothing of the impact their loss has had on their families.
During these times, I found comfort in a book, When Things Fall Apart, by Pema Chodron. Gifted to me by a former colleague who had discovered it in the aftermath of the 2013 bombing of the Boston Marathon, she believed the words of the Buddhist monk would help me heal. Coupled with the words of Chodron I also spent countless hours reading and listening to everything published by Gabby Bernstein. One therapist recommended the Rumi Oracle card set, which I keep in my office next to Gabby’s “The Universe Has Your Back,” deck.
The combination of all of these words, rooted in diverse religious and spiritual beliefs helped me to accept that I’m not a heathen for failing to accept the doctrine of a single religion.
More importantly, they helped me discover the power of prayer.
Prayer in Action
A few years ago, a family member was struggling with addiction. Side note: For those who have never been afflicted by this disease, it’s as destructive for the loved ones of the person afflicted with the disease as it is for the addict. Suffice it to say that addiction is a family disease, and when a family has a loved one in the throes of active addiction, lots of feelings get hurt.
One of my family members was exhibiting the classic behaviors or an enabler, and I had tried to convince her to attend a support group, but she refused. I realized that I was completely powerless, so I got down on my knees and I prayed, “Please let her receive my suggestions with an open heart.”
Then I opened my email and drafted a note that started with acknowledging my prayer.
It worked.
On many occasions since, I have seen evidence that there is a higher power. I’m just not confident that the energy force that I recognize is a single god or his son. I don’t need others to share in my beliefs to know that there is a power greater than me—that there is, as I’ve heard Gabby say so many times, “a river of love constantly flowing.” That river will flow on with or without me. This I pray is true.