Why I honestly don't want your prayers.

This is a touchy subject I know, but I did say I was going to be honest from here on out, and since my blog a few days ago has several people feeling inclined to recommend Lee Strobel books to me, I might as well talk a little more about my religious views or lack thereof.  

One thing I have always hated, even when I was still tucked neatly into the fold, was when people say that they're praying for you.  I don't know why exactly I've always hated it, but I've certainly never taken one iota of comfort from people's pledge to pray for me.   Nor have I seen any results from my own prayers that lead me to believe that events occur or don't occur based on our ability to change God's mind.  I've been taught that God gives one of three answers: yes, no, or wait.  Which is a really convenient way of saying "things happen or sometimes they don't happen," or in other words, "god may or may not have heard your prayer but I can't see how it would've changed things anyway."  I've also been taught that God knows what we need regardless of our telling him.  So what then, is the point of prayer?  I've been taught and I've told others, "prayer doesn't change God, it changes us."  That sounds almost poetic enough to make me not mind that it doesn't really make sense.  God's either going to do something or he's not, right?  What does it matter if we change other than on a personal level?  It doesn't change the reality of the situation.  

While I'm on the subject, one of the more disgusting things to me, especially when I was a Christian, is public prayer.  There's few things less like a pharisee than the Christian that fought to keep prayer in school.  What you really wanted to keep in school is people's opinion that you're a godly person.   It made my skin crawl then, and today is no different.   I don't remember the last time I bowed my head at a dinner table or at church when I went.  Because those places were not "my inner most room."  

So here is my confession:

If, at some point, I ever told you that I was praying for you (and this would've had to be years ago), I'm sorry, I didn't get around to it.  But hey, it looks like you turned out alright after all, what a surprise.

Here is another confession:

Shortly after the preacher gave a sermon about Hell and successfully scared the shit out of young Taylor, convincing him to run down the aisle and give his life to Jesus,  Young Taylor made another decision.  Everyone was so happy about his salvation that he wanted more and ran down the aisle a second time, this time to accept the "call to the ministry."  Here's the confession.  I lied.  I lied through my overly large front teeth and I knew I was doing it.  I've never felt called to do anything.  If I told you I was, I lied to you, and I knew I was doing it.  I'm not saying I didn't have faith then.  I did, but to be fair, I hadn't given it a lot of thought.  Probably wasn't capable of giving it the kind of thought it deserved.  I just bought in without shopping around.  All that to say, I've never once in my life heard the undeniable voice of Jesus that everyone else seems to have heard.  But I did pretend to, because I am a weak willed liar, apparently. 

So in conclusion, pray for me if you really feel like you have to, but I would rather you didn't.  I would rather you got up and did something productive with your life.  Create something, volunteer in your community, that sort of thing.  

"Its not the parts of the Bible I don't understand that bother me, its the parts I do" - Mark Twain