Prayer: The Substance of Faith

I awoke this morning with a fickle faith. Thoughts congested my mind, nerves raged and confusion was my substitute breakfast.

Since late August, I've been wandering, trying to find my way in this vicious society. I never thought I'd find myself in this current state - unemployed, seemingly at a dead end. This morning a full-time reporting gig appeared to be a gloomy goal. Six years of journalism training was worth 15 cents.

But as doubt, discomfort and disappointment raged, I remembered to pray. Pray is my inheritance. My great-grandmother prayed, her mother prayed, my grandmother did so as well. From time to time I'll be in a conversation with my mother and she'll say, "I pray that God leads you to a job where you are happy." Me too.

Prayer is a meditation rooted in faith - the substance of things not seen and the evidence of that which is hoped for. I grew up in the church and I remember being a high school student, praying that God make a way for me to enter academia. After I graduated from college, I recall having another conversation with God. This time it was my wanting him/her to bless me with another opportunity. The blessing shocks me to this day. It was a full ride to complete my graduate studies at The University of Iowa.

Now I'm at a cross road. Lately I've felt as though God has abandoned me in my quest to be a newspaper reporter. So this morning in the midst of my confusion, I remembered to pray. And so I did.

I can't predict my future but I know God has something grand planned. When my faith is fickle, I remember to be still and think of my grandmother's words, "divine order, divine order, divine order."

Salaam,
E. Tanille