I talk to God a lot. Done it for years. First out of loneliness. Sometimes out of fear or frustration. Or confusion. Yes, sometimes I give him advice. Okay. A lot of times I give him advice. I know there are some among you who don’t believe in God and think anyone who does is an ignorant lunatic. I hope this doesn’t offend you too much. After all, this is primarily a political blog. Then again, it’s also personal. And I am who I am.
Sometimes I don’t realize I’m talking to him until I’m near the end of whatever it is I’m saying. He’s just there. Of course, he’s always “there,” but sometimes I’m going along, doing and thinking, and just realize his presence.
Last night, I was thinking about something kind of exciting—I don’t even remember now what it was—and found myself sharing it with him. I started to say “Can you imagine what would happen if…”
Is that not dumb? “Can you imagine?” to the Architect and Maintainer of the entire universe? The Source of all wisdom?
I’ve said worse, though. I’ve been known to get very angry at him and yell. I have—more than once, I’m afraid—literally shaken my fist toward the sky and screamed unbelievable things at him. And then calmed down. And then felt shame.
And every time.
I’ve then felt his comforting presence.