“In the name of the Father, Son and, Holy Spirit…” My God, I have forgotten how to pray. Granted I cannot remember the last time I even set foot in a Church. You bless yourself and recite a prayer, right? Drat. I can’t remember. How do I fold my fingers? Why I am even here?

The wooden benches are hard and uncomfortable. The solid stiff frame makes it impossible to have an ounce of relaxation. The religious statues on the walls, shelves and tables all around make one nervous. Even if one does not give a crap about the religion, it just isn't right to break one of those things. They all look sad, and why do their eyes point upward? Oh, never mind, the “big man” is upstairs, right? That is, if he exists. With all the pain, violence and darkness in the world it’s hard to believe it.

If an all-loving God created us and loves us then why is there depression? Evil? Pain? Sadness? The list goes on and on. This world is a terrible place to live. Sometimes I just do not want to be here. The man nailed to the cross looks at me with his judgmental “holier-than-thou” eyes. See, that’s why I stopped coming to church everyone acts like they’re better than me. Are they? I actually have no clue. But some of the most judgmental and close-minded people can be found in the “universal” church. Does that make any sense?

A bit of a disclaimer is that I know nothing. How can I? I am a finite being, human, a mere mortal. The large questions are ones that no one can answer. With all this uncertainty in the world, man has created religion to fill the void. Making up unbelievable stories so we can feel better about ourselves. That, or the stories are true. There really is an old man with a bread that created us in his image and gave us guidelines. But if he exists did he then send his son? Some believe he did send his Son but some do not. Still others believe that the latest revelation was in an Arab nation in the seventh century.

Who's right and who’s wrong? No knows and no one will ever know. But I cannot believe I've forgotten how to pray. I went to all the “right” schools growing up. Learned all the prayers yet, what are they? That foundational knowledge has left me. But I am in trouble. So I came here. After using up absolutely every other idea imaginable first. Folding my hands in prayer... the action simply feels weird. How do I pray?

It makes me recall a bible story. My goodness I cannot believe that some of those are still click-clanking in my head. When the disciples ask Jesus to ‘Teach them how to pray,’ it is a simple request. Well, Lord, could you teach me how to pray? I've never prayed before. Is it okay if I just talk? Here goes nothing…

“Hey God what’s up?” Pause. Okay, I did not get hit by a lightning bolt. Good sign. “So dude, I need some help. I realize we have not talked… like, ever. But I feel like you are my last hope here, dawg. That’s a big hope, because I’m not even sure you are real.” I would if he would smite me down. Hasn’t yet. Let’s continue. “I have a lot on my mind lately. I have goals but my super religious aunt always talks about trusting in You. That if it was meant to be than You would make it happen. Well I have been waiting and nothing has happened. So what I’m getting at… I’m trying to say… maybe if I word it… you know what, I’ll just say it. What gives? Man, I'm sort of a good person. I pay my taxes, I do not break the law, and I’m not an a**hole. So why do I get a crummy life? Why don’t you answer all my questions and solve all my problems? Don’t you love me?” No answer. I guess he’s not home, so I essentially left Him a message.

Time to go. What a waste of time. He doesn't answer the prayers. I stand up and start to leave, when someone grabs my arm,

“You look a little lost laddie.” An older gentlemen with a noticeable Irish twang in his voice stops me. “Think of Luke 11 when the Lord says, ‘Knock and the door will be answered.’ The door will open alright, but yee still got to knock. The Lord will not do everything for us.”

“How do I know when to knock?”

“Ay, lad I don’t know. That’s for you to decide. But picture it like this, if you are to afraid to take the first step… How do you expect to get up the staircase?”

His hairy knuckles release me, and the fury little foreigner goes inside. The air is brisk and cool outside as I take it in. Well, my prayer was answered.