Hard to Pray

The prayer I can’t quite pray yet

I keep meaning to say something to you, God.
Or maybe not to you.
Maybe at you.
But then I stop.
It catches somewhere in my chest.

It is not that I do not believe.
I do.
Probably too much.
It just hurts in ways I do not know what to do with.

If you are listening
and I keep hoping you are
you would hear all of it.
The sharpness in my voice.
The tiredness tucked in my bones.
That little stone in my coat pocket
I have carried since winter started.
It is smoothed down now
from my fingers rubbing it.

I do not want this to be prayer.
I want prayer to sound like afternoons when I was ten,
playing video games with the window open,
Tracey Chapman’s voice spilling from the stereo,
and Mum cleaning in the background,
the smell of dust and polish drifting into the room.

But this is all I have
bits of half sentences
silences that keep stretching
the weight of this stone in my pocket.

If you are there
and I guess you already know if you are
then you know
this is the best I can manage
today.

God in the Dark: After Psalm 97

I used to think
that certainty was faith—
a sure thing, a clean answer,
a way of knowing
without the waiting.

But the text says
clouds and thick darkness
are around Him,
which means
whatever throne He sits on
is hidden—
not because He is cruel,
but because He is close
in a way that won’t be tamed.

It says righteousness and justice
are the foundation,
not visibility.
Not control.
Not clarity.

So now I wonder
if faith is less about knowing
and more about trusting
the One
who sometimes stays behind the smoke,
but never leaves the room.

And maybe this is how
He teaches us—
not with thunder,
but with the stillness
that follows.
Not with a map,
but with a presence
that unsettles
and also holds.

Maybe certainty
was never the point.
Maybe love is.
And maybe
that’s enough
to worship in the dark.

The Church of Eden

Some people, in order to discover God, read books. But there is a great book: the very appearance of created things. Look above you! Look below you! Note it. Read it. God, whom you want to discover, never wrote that book with ink. Instead, He set before your eyes the things that He had made. Can you ask for a louder voice than that?

Saint Augustine. The City of God, Book XVI

In my experience, Christianity and nature don’t go together. I think a lot of us Protestants are scared of making an idol out of cheese. Stepping out and getting any spiritual substance from nature feels like pagan worship. Nevertheless, for thousands of years, the Church and even the Old Testament Jews have had a rich tradition of finding God not only in the pages of sacred texts or within the walls of a temple or a church but in nature itself. For me, church on a Sunday can get boring. Nature doesn’t. At church, we have baptisms in a font. In nature, God baptises the world with ever-winding rivers, boundless oceans, and tranquil lakes. At church, we have choirs and bands that stir a crowd. In nature, God stirs the heart with the clap of the trees, the melody of the wind, and the euphony of the animals. At church, we preach from the Scriptures to teach, correct, and rebuke. In nature, God strikes the reader with awe as we pore over the stars. In church, we meet with God in sometimes clinical rituals, polished halls, and typically with masks on. In nature, we meet with God in untamed sacraments, wild establishments, and unmasked hearts.

I’m not a hippy. I don’t hug trees, and I’m not about to join PETA. I’m not even a good environmentalist. I love long showers, I’m often lazy with recycling, and I love a good steak. (and wings). There are days, weeks even where I’d rather spend my time playing video games, binging the Big Bang Theory, and scrolling through Facebook. I love rainy days, coffee, and sleeping in. As much as I know nature is a good place for me to be, it takes more effort than I’m proud to admit to get amongst. Nevertheless, when I’m forced to climb that mountain and see that view, or when I’m walking along the esplanade and I see the ocean stretched out before me, I’m always struck, even just a little, by how God takes up and dwells in more than the four walls of a church.

Elsewhere, I argue that our churches should be a slice of paradise. A taste of the newly created earth. A miniature Eden and a sacred space. I can’t remember the last time, if ever, where I felt awe-inspired, moved, and truly like I was treading hollowed ground in a church. Particularly within the Protestant tradition, we have demystified, disenchanted, and robbed our sacred spaces of their “magic.” We’ve traded awe and wonder for fog machines and light. We’ve sold profound unity and community and bought programs. We’ve replaced stories and myths with conversations about the weather and movies. We’ve exchanged God’s presence for “doing church.”

In the beginning, God created the world; it was wild and waste; there was darkness and chaos, but God’s Spirit hovered over the deep. Over six days, God moulded the world. He placed the stars, the sun, and the moon in the sky and gave them purpose. God divided the seas above from the waters below, filled them, and gave them purpose. He raised trees, shrubs, bushes, mountains, oceans, rivers, and streams from the earth and gave them purpose. God filled the world with birds, fish, and land animals and gave them purpose. He created humanity and gave them purpose. Finally, on the seventh day, God dwelled with what He had made, and there was purpose and goodness. This is how things are supposed to be in our local churches. Our local churches should feel like we’ve tasted a bit of heaven. Goodness, purpose, God’s presence, unity, flourishing, and life should all be markers of a healthy church. Yet I talk to people who experience emptiness, frustration, shallow relationships, trivial teachings, and superficial prayers every week. It seems that our churches are less Eden and more Tower of Babel.

2024

Some may or may not know I took a year off writing (despite this, I’ve had the most views since I started writing). In 2023, I posted one blog (I felt compelled then). It is 2024, and I’m slowly emerging out of blogging hibernation. From my first blog in 2015 to my next, as is faithful with most things in life, my theology and thoughts on Christian spirituality have evolved. I look back on my first blog and chuckle. I’m sure I’ll look back on 2024 in another ten years and cringe. Since I started blogging, I’ve started and graduated from bible college. I’ve married and remarried. I’ve gone through different jobs, moved around, and gone through various churches (finally, I’ve found a nice one to rest in). I’ve had my doubts and struggles. I’ve wanted to walk away from the faith. I’ve wanted to give up and try other things. Yet here I am, still tripping after Jesus (good blog title).

So what does this year hold for Scribbling Theology? More meaningless ramblings of a guy who has literally no idea what he’s talking about (I guarantee that). We’ll discuss God’s creation, beauty and some of the not-so-traditional ways of engaging with God. On the flip side, we’ll discuss the importance of finding a healthy community of believers where you can flourish. We’ll talk about liturgy and the importance of ancient rituals and beliefs. We’ll talk about how stories, both new and old, can transform us and lead us deeper into ourselves (collectively and individually) and into the presence of God. I’ll review a book or two (to start you off read, “How to Know a Person by David Brooks”), a podcast or three and maybe spin a poem. I don’t know where I’ll start or finish. But as always, Scribbling Theology has been an outlet, a creative and even spiritual practice that has helped me to release and vent my own thoughts.

Knowing

To be known is one of the most important things that a person can get a handle on in their life. The desire to be understood is built into our very DNA. It’s part of who we are. I’m not talking about learning a list of facts about a person. Camaron Smith, aged 31, male, likes writing, theology, video games, poetry, spiced rum and craft beer. These are facts, essential facts, because they give you small glimpses into who I am. However, to truly be known by another is a whole other level of knowledge that takes a lifetime of relationships and journeying to grasp. To me, there are four knowings one needs to embark on in life to fulfil the yearning inside of the heart (in no particular order):

  1. To know thy self
  2.  To know the cosmos (the universe around us)
  3.  To know other people and be known
  4.  To know God

To Know Thy Self

Every man has forgotten who he is. One may understand the cosmos but never the ego; the self is more distant than any star.

G. K. Chesterton

We all know the ancient Greek maxim coined by Socrates to “know thy self.” Over the last two thousand years of human history, it seems like all we’ve been trying to do is make our mark on the world, bring meaning to our existence, and define who we are, from the great empires of the world to the religious institutions that have shaped our cultural moments (for better or worse), to the Enlightenment the industrial revolution and the Western free market. Society in the world that I live in has wrestled with what it means to be human from a buffet of different perspectives. Interestingly, today, the quest to know oneself is as prevalent as ever. With the rise of what Carl Trueman calls “expressive individualism”, the West’s desperate attempt to understand the self has spiralled out of control. The human desire to be known and to know thy self is so significant to the modern person that we’ve all lost all meaning of the self and instead have opted to identify as anything but, which, in turn, has influenced society at large and confused the masses. As Carl Trueman says

The rise of the sexual revolution was predicated on fundamental changes in how the self is understood. The self must first be psychologized; psychology must then be sexualized, and sex must be politicized.

Carl Trueman – The Rise and Triumph of the Modern Self

In a world where instant gratification is the norm, so do people believe that knowing the self is something that can be worked out in a personality test, a course, a self-help book, six weeks of therapy, or a moment of “inspiration” about who they genuinely are (typically expressed in a hyper-sexual way). Any therapist worth their weight in gold, any spiritual guru from any religion will tell you that the quest to know the self takes a lot of time. I’m not talking about 12 months or three, but your entire life. There’s a reason why monks, gurus, and hermits live for years in isolation. Why? Enlightenment, truth, knowledge, and “knowing” take time. In the words of pastor John Mark Comer,

We live in a culture that is addicted to speed and instant gratification. We want everything now. We don’t want to wait. We don’t want to work hard. We don’t want to suffer. We don’t want to grow. But that’s not how God works. God works slowly. God works deeply. God works through process and time.

John Mark Comer 

Rome wasn’t built in a day, and neither was the world. It was built in six or in 1.658 trillion days (approximately), depending on what you believe. So settle in. The road to self-discovery is a long but rewarding one.

To Know the Cosmos

It seems to me that the natural world is the greatest source of excitement, the greatest source of visual beauty, the greatest source of intellectual interest. It is the greatest source of so much in life that makes life worth living.

Sir David Attenborough

The cosmos is a tricky thing to understand. Depending on your relationship with science and faith, you will make sense of the world around you differently. For some, nature is something we live in, but we’re apart from it. For others, the universe is a series of complex systems that can ultimately be understood with math and science. For me, the cosmos is something I can live in, enjoy, and get meaning from. I can understand myself, others, and the God who made me. Creation is a mirror, a glimpse, and a window into the soul of the material world. At night, when I look out at the stars, I resonate with the Psalmist, who writes, “When I behold Your heavens, the work of Your fingers, the moon and the stars, which You have set in place— what is man that You are mindful of him, or the son of man that You care for him? (Psalm 8:3-4). When I look out over the ocean, Paul comes to mind when he writes, “His invisible attributes, namely, his eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly perceived, ever since the world’s creation, in the things that have been made. (Romans 1:20). Historically, nature has played a massive role in developing our knowledge of God and ourselves. The early church father, Basil of Caesarea, once said, “The visible things of God’s creation are like syllables or letters by which we may spell out some words concerning him.” In more modern times, Emil Bruner argued, “Natural theology is the attempt to attain an understanding of God and his will on the basis of the nature of man and his world, without reference to the special revelation of God in Christ.” 

I can imagine going from place to place, seeing a waterfall, the ocean, a tree, a mountain, a person, or a valley – each “letter” of creation falls into place as the cosmos writes the greatest story ever told as we attempt to understand God and ourselves.

The world is a book, and those who do not travel read only one page.

St. Augustine

To Be Known and To Know Other People

In The Soul of Desire, psychiatrist Curt Thompson suggests that underneath all our longings is the desire to be known―and what’s more, that this fundamental yearning manifests itself in our deep need to make things of beauty, revealing who we are to others. Coupled with my therapy sessions in my attempt to know myself, what I read in Thompson’s book was the most profound idea I had heard all year. In Genesis 2:18, God says, “It is not good for the human to be alone.” Vivek Murthy, the former U.S. Surgeon General, has been raising awareness about the “loneliness epidemic” that affects millions of people around the world. He argues that loneliness is not only a personal problem but also a public health issue that can contribute to various physical and mental illnesses, such as addiction, violence, depression and anxiety. In his book Together: The Healing Power of Human Connection in a Sometimes Lonely World, he explores the causes and consequences of loneliness and offers practical solutions to cultivate more meaningful relationships in our lives. He believes that human connection is essential for our well-being and happiness and that we all have a deep desire to be known by others.

Until recently, I don’t think I’ve ever been really known by anyone, let alone myself. I’ve had knowledge of a lot of people, and I use a lot of defence mechanisms to stop myself from being known by others, but I’ve always been quite lonely and unsure of what it means to be Camaron Smith. Despite our advancements in technology and social media, despite all the self-help books, and despite the emails and instant messages, I don’t know if I’ve ever really been known or if I’ve ever truly known another person.

Our Western world has long emphasized knowledge—factual information and “proof”—over the process of being known by God and others. No wonder, then, that despite all our technological advancements and the proliferation of social media, we are more intra- and interpersonally isolated than ever. Yet it is only when we are known that we are positioned to become conduits of love. And it is love that transforms our minds, makes forgiveness possible, and weaves a community of disparate people into the tapestry of God’s family.

Curt Thompson

To Know God

To know God is to live.

Leo Tolstoy

St. Ignatius of Loyola once said, “God freely created us so that we might know, love, and serve him in this life and be happy with him forever.” The Westminister Confession of Faith asks, “What is the chief end of man?” and it answers, “Man’s chief end is to glorify God and to enjoy him forever.” To glorify God, one must enjoy Him. Enjoying God is knowing God. I don’t mean having a clear, concise doctrine of God or having your orthodoxy and theology ticked off properly. I don’t mean that we just read about Him or listen to talks and sermons on the Bible. What I mean is knowing God in the way one might know a dear friend or a life partner. John writes, “This is eternal life, that they may know You, the true God, and Jesus Christ, whom You have sent” (John17:3). The knowing that I want is the intimate knowledge one might have of God as one walks with Him in every moment of every day. This is something I need to work on a lot. It’s effortless for me to throw up defence mechanisms and push God away despite my wanting to be known by Him and my wanting to know Him. I’m afraid of what that would mean. Eternal life is this kind of intimacy with God. Why wait?

There, I greet God in my own disorder. I say hello to my chaos, my unmade decisions, my unmade bed, my desire and my trouble. I say hello to distraction and privilege, I greet the day and I greet my beloved and bewildering Jesus.

Pádraig Ó Tuama