I'm Not Sure I Even Had Any To Begin With

When I was younger I was a fervent believer. But then I suffered a not so minor setback, and I gave up believing in God for a while. Right now I'm more of the misotheistic variety. I believe God exists, but no way do I trust Him to do what's right for me. This lack of faith has left me scared, emotionally paralysed and extremely frustrated. It's like I'm in this death spiral and I can't get out. The Universe says get up and help yourself, but then withholds the tools I need to do just that. Then I say: "a little help here" and I get these half-assed gestures that just get me more stuck. The result? My faith is withering away. I really don't know what to do.
dicavill dicavill
3 Responses Jan 7, 2013

I wouldn't say I lost it or had it. I just know I do not have that intimid relationship. At this point in my journey, I need that extra level of assurance. Does He care about me, not the whole human race? It seems that God is higher level of physics law with mystical twist sometimes. Is He alive and well acting in my life, not the next one?

I am just like the Jews coming out of Egypt. He departed the ocean to save my sorry *** five years ago. As soon as I am thirsty, I *****. Only if I stay in Egypt, I would not be thirsty. He gave me water. Now, I want something I can see and touch as my personal savior. I worship idols. He whacked me. I trudge this stinking desert. He only gave me enough food for a day. Why am I in the desert at the first place? Did I ask to get out of Egypt? Where is this land of Canaan anyways? I have to fight these giants and take their land? I thought, 40 years ago, the land was promised. What's going on?

The final answer? I don't know. I will never have the answer. I try to listen to my heart, and kneel before Him, not knowing who He is, nor what He does for me in my life. When I do, there is this peace in my heart. That's all I know. Maybe, that is all we were given to start in this journey. And maybe, He thought that was good enough.

I want to live my life 'as if'. As if He cares every tears in my life, as if only He knows what's the best for me, and as if there is home to go back to on my last day. If not, what do I have to loose? My independence and self-reliance? No, I don't care about that. I leave that shiny chalice to the strong and the fitted, for I am not.

When I know I can no longer be the master of my fate and when God seems far away, that is the most loneliest and darkest place. I will live tomorrow as if. Thank you for your post.

Hope is dominant in the heart of childhood. The whole world is a golden vision to the opening eyes of the child; he thinks his will is supreme. As he moves onward, at every step nature stands as an adamantine wall, barring his future progress. He may hurl himself against it again and again, striving to break through. The further he goes, the further recedes the ideal, till death comes, and there is release, perhaps. And this is Maya.

A man of science rises, he is thirsting after knowledge. No sacrifice is too great, no struggle too hopeless for him. He moves onward discovering secret after secret of nature, searching out the secrets from her innermost heart, and what for? What is it all for? Why should we give him glory? Why should he acquire fame? Does not nature do infinitely more than any human being can do? — and nature is dull, insentient. Why should it be glory to imitate the dull, the insentient? Nature can hurl a thunderbolt of any magnitude to any distance. If a man can do one small part as much, we praise him and laud him to the skies. Why? Why should we praise him for imitating nature, imitating death, imitating dullness imitating insentience? The force of gravitation can pull to pieces the biggest mass that ever existed; yet it is insentient. What glory is there in imitating the insentient? Yet we are all struggling after that. And this is maya.

The senses drag the human soul out. Man is seeking for pleasure and for happiness where it can never be found. For countless ages we are all taught that this is futile and vain, there is no happiness here. But we cannot learn; it is impossible for us to do so, except through our own experiences. We try them, and a blow comes. Do we learn then? Not even then. Like moths hurling themselves against the flame, we are hurling ourselves again and again into sense-pleasures, hoping to find satisfaction there. We return again and again with freshened energy; thus we go on, till crippled and cheated we die. And this is Maya.

So with our intellect. In our desire to solve the mysteries of the universe, we cannot stop our questioning, we feel we must know and cannot believe that no knowledge is to be gained. A few steps, and there arises the wall of beginningless and endless time which we cannot surmount. A few steps, and there appears a wall of boundless space which cannot be surmounted, and the whole is irrevocably bound in by the walls of cause and effect. We cannot go beyond them. Yet we struggle, and still have to struggle. And this is Maya.

With every breath, with every pulsation of the heart with every one of our movements, we think we are free, and the very same moment we are shown that we are not. Bound slaves, nature's bond-slaves, in body, in mind, in all our thoughts, in all our feelings. And this is Maya.

There was never a mother who did not think her child was a born genius, the most extraordinary child that was ever born; she dotes upon her child. Her whole soul is in the child. The child grows up, perhaps becomes a drunkard, a brute, ill-treats the mother, and the more he ill-treats her, the more her love increases. The world lauds it as the unselfish love of the mother, little dreaming that the mother is a born slave, she cannot help it. She would a thousand times rather throw off the burden, but she cannot. So she covers it with a mass of flowers, which she calls wonderful love. And this is Maya.

We are all like this in the world. A legend tells how once Nârada said to Krishna, "Lord, show me Maya." A few days passed away, and Krishna asked Narada to make a trip with him towards a desert, and after walking for several miles, Krishna said, "Narada, I am thirsty; can you fetch some water for me?" "I will go at once, sir, and get you water." So Narada went. At a little distance there was a village; he entered the village in search of water and knocked at a door, which was opened by a most beautiful young girl. At the sight of her he immediately forgot that his Master was waiting for water, perhaps dying for the want of it. He forgot everything and began to talk with the girl. All that day he did not return to his Master. The next day, he was again at the house, talking to the girl. That talk ripened into love; he asked the father for the daughter, and they were married and lived there and had children. Thus twelve years passed. His father-in-law died, he inherited his property. He lived, as he seemed to think, a very happy life with his wife and children, his fields and his cattle and so forth. Then came a flood. One night the river rose until it overflowed its banks and flooded the whole village. Houses fell, men and animals were swept away and drowned, and everything was floating in the rush of the stream. Narada had to escape. With one hand be held his wife, and with the other two of his children; another child was on his shoulders, and he was trying to ford this tremendous flood. After a few steps he found the current was too strong, and the child on his shoulders fell and was borne away. A cry of despair came from Narada. In trying to save that child, he lost his grasp upon one of the others, and it also was lost. At last his wife, whom he clasped with all his might, was torn away by the current, and he was thrown on the bank, weeping and wailing in bitter lamentation. Behind him there came a gentle voice, "My child, where is the water? You went to fetch a pitcher of water, and I am waiting for you; you have been gone for quite half an hour." "Half an hour! " Narada exclaimed. Twelve whole years had passed through his mind, and all these scenes had happened in half an hour! And this is Maya.

In one form or another, we are all in it. It is a most difficult and intricate state of things to understand. It has been preached in every country, taught everywhere, but only believed in by a few, because until we get the experiences ourselves we cannot believe in it. What does it show? Something very terrible. For it is all futile. Time, the avenger of everything, comes, and nothing is left. He swallows up the saint and the sinner, the king and the peasant, the beautiful and the ugly; he leaves nothing. Everything is rushing towards that one goal destruction. Our knowledge, our arts, our sciences, everything is rushing towards it. None can stem the tide, none can hold it back for a minute. We may try to forget it, in the same way that persons in a plague-striker city try to create oblivion by drinking, dancing, and other vain attempts, and so becoming paralysed. So we are trying to forget, trying to create oblivion by all sorts of sense-pleasures. And this is Maya.


I'm a Christian, I can help you. I struggle the same way you are about losing faith. Then it hit me. The Holy Spirit said to me, "You can't lose faith, because whose faith is it for you to lose?" (Romans 3:3) You can lose faith in God but He will never lose faith in you. It is not the faith you have towards God that will save you. It's the faith God has in you that will save you. Fix your eyes on Him.