Prayer

I used to pray a lot when I was a child. I had a personal Jesus. He was that tall, handsome and nice guy who did not resemble any of my heterosexual male relatives. He had time to listen and to look at the things in my life which were making me miserable. He smiled encouragingly without a word. He bathed me in sympathetic light, which held me like a yearned-for male embrace. He was my beautiful imaginary friend.

When I opened my mind and heart to the real world as an adolescent, I found many men and women who were like my imaginary friend. They too had been bumped around by life. They offered real embraces, real warmth. Some also offered sexual delights with the affection I craved. A vast improvement over my well-meaning imaginary Jesus.

I learned that prayer to an imaginary friend was a symptom of insecurity which could be addressed in the actual world with some effort and humility. Eventually my prayers became communications from my gut to my better self, that part of my mind which could address the needs of whatever was prompting my call for help. "Jesus, please help me get through this." became "Paul, what can you do to make this situation more manageable?" I learned that sitting down with a pencil and making a list of possible approaches was more beneficial than wringing my hands and looking skyward.

When someone tries to convince me to pray or to embrace Jesus, I certainly do not begrudge them their immaturity. I know that growing up is an individual journey, one that some people travel more slowly and grudgingly than others. In fact, I have known many people who were still hoping for some magical salvation on their deathbeds after decades of praying for it with no result. Praying to win the lottery is not a practical way of enriching a life.

When I hear reports of the Governor of Texas holding a massive prayer rally as a prelude to his run for the White House, my better self tells me to take his possible Presidency into account in my future planning. Rather than joining him in asking his imaginary friend to decide my fate, I will be deciding whether I want to live in a nation led by religious zealots, a Christian Iran.