Nathan Slatter

A friend introduced me to Merton’s Prayer a while back and I’ve had it in mind since.

Merton’s Prayer :: My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me, I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so. But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you. And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing. I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire. And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road, though I may know nothing about it. Therefore I will trust you always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone. (Thoughts in Solitude, Thomas Merton, 81)

I can not add to this prayer. Merton seems to have been reading my mind from back in the day. There is something about Merton’s honesty in NOT knowing that is appealing and allows me to feel that I’m not the only Christian agnostic (for lack of a better word). Why is it that I always come back to belief/unbelief as a topic?

There are times that I absolutely wish that I believed in absolutes but somehow that gene was snuffed out by my upbringing and its failure. Yes, I know, I should get over it. But how am I to do that exactly? Almost 30 years of my life was spent as a fundamentalist Christian of the strictest kind and, because of this I have a hard time at this point accepting that there are concretes since the ones I believed for the majority of my life failed — dramatically and with much damage to my life.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not whining and complaining. I’m merely trying to explain why I have a hard time with concrete ideals and theologies. David Hayward said something recently that also speaks to this. He said, “I’m not a pessimist when it comes to the human race. I think I’m a realist. I put no hope in the human race, but I do hope for the human race. There’s a difference. After being a person for so long and hanging around them for so long, I know we are marked by a fallenness. There is a tragically broken chord which underscores all of our lives. It is always there. It takes humility to realize this. Pride, when it forgets this solemn fact, leads us into all kinds of foolish and terrible acts.”

He’s also speaking as though he has read my mind. I don’t trust humanity, yet I do have hope for it. I don’t think that many preachers/teachers/spiritual leaders are able to realize that they “are marked by a fallenness”. Granted, I do have to keep in mind that, in my own fallen-ness, I don’t tend to trust spiritual leaders because of the ones that I have had in the past.

Funny thing is that none of them were horrible. None of them were evil. And my problem with them is based on the theology taught — not necessarily the people who taught them. My response to this upbringing and theology could, very well, be wrought from a negative reaction to a life lived with such angst, abuse, and arrogance.

I don’t trust a single human to be the voice of God in my life — but I can trust a group of people to be the voice of God/guidance in my life. I have hope for humanity, in the midst of my distrust of humanity. Which means that I am a bit off kilter, attempting to find that which is right. Which is where the prayer of Merton comes into play and the things that I strive/long for.