For the second day, I start to write about this, and nothing comes out except these words. How do surgeons work? Presumably, they are trusted, because they hone their skills, but unfortunately, people die in their hands as well. Every touch is pain, waiting is pain, ascent is pain, a glance is pain... Everything is covered with pain. Only prayer does not hurt. And the pain quietly subsides. Do not consider me a pessimist, I just don’t encounter pain so often in my shell.
The thought that worries me is my relationship with God.
Before, when there was a lot of stress when there were a lot of challenges around me.
When I pulled on myself responsible for everything that happened, that cry to God has always been with me. Strengthened me and guided me to the value of Eternal Life as opposed to the existing reality.
But with the first steps towards my mental recovery and normalization of the situation, the relationship began to change. The number of such appeals to God began to decrease. I went further by making my relationship with God less stressful and more enjoyable due to the abolition of certain religious requirements for oneself. I began to feel even better. But the appeal to God has also decreased.
Here I live now, changing the field of activity. I discover the meaning of life. And I mostly do this with myself... In these really very important issues, with myself, with my senses of the world and logic. I rarely turn to God.
It's hard for me to understand it.
There are several hypotheses as to why this happens:
1. My relationship with God has changed, and even if it comes to very important matters in my life, I solve them on my own. And I turn to God only when it’s already completely over.
2. Those things that I do, and those that occupy me, are still not so important and decisive that I turn to God with them.
I have no answer. And finally, with this question, I can turn to God!
Help me, Lord Jesus!
Update 26.05.2023
Not without prayer and discussions on Facebook.
I am pleased to share my conclusions with you.
The answer turns out to be complex:
My silence before God is not of a critical nature, as I still often remember and think about Him, share joyful moments with Him, and turn to Him in empathy for loved ones. These thoughts and interactions bring me joy and peace. Yes, they currently lack the persistent knocking on the door that will surely open. But there hasn't been such concern lately either.
My not appealing to God about my professional path indicates that, at the moment, there is no great urgency for me in this matter. Rather, I am like an explorer, discovering a new direction, observing and exploring it. On the other hand, my aversion to the IT industry is also evident and does not require further clarification.
Children run towards the road. I walk slowly behind them. I feel the danger, but not significant enough to run and stop them. Instead, I pray for God to protect them at that moment.
Now, at a spot above the lake, the children have moved far away from me. I prayed again. But after praying this time, I understood something. It's a prayer out of laziness. My conscience demands action, but I don't feel like running, stopping them, or shouting. So, internally, I pray. I console myself. I've reinterpreted this. I don't know if I'll manage to run and stop them the next time a similar situation arises. Probably not. But if I don't run, would I be able not to pray? Also, probably not.
So, what did I understand from all of this? Maybe I've slightly better understood what I do and why I do it.
By the way, this reminds me of my student days. I prayed because I didn't want to prepare for exams.
It seems I've identified three types of prayer requests:
How is it for you?
... Here, I've just read Ksyusha a frightening chapter from Tom Sawyer about murder, graves, exhumed bodies...
Ksyusha lay there, unable to sleep. And I was sitting, writing notes. Then I went to pray with Ksyusha. We prayed for Ksyusha, for her sleep, for everything to be well. And then I prayed for the characters in the book: for the murderer, for the one who died, and for the others.
I remember myself in childhood, and even now. You watch a movie or read a book with an intriguing plot, main characters, and dangers. You read and pray for them to be alright. For them to live happily. You feel deeply for them, as if they are real.
Maybe they are real inhabitants of our lives. What do you think?