An Agnostic’s Evening Prayer

words by Scarlet M., art by Yi Cheng

Lord, the world outside this chapel has changed since I last knelt here.

These pews feel a lot bigger than they did in decades past, far from the prison cell of my childhood. The days of jumping and rolling around during mass are long gone, but sometimes I still feel the resulting punishment when I rub my cheeks. 

I’ve tried my best to force that sensation out of me, to push away what it said about my parents. It wasn’t until I visited home last month that I saw bruises staring back in their childhood photos.

How could I see them the same now? 

How could I even make eye contact with them? 

How could I hold this resentment when it was all they knew?

That nanay and tatay know they did the best they could, I pray to the Lord.

Lord, hear my prayer.

I remember how nanay scolded me whenever she saw wrinkles under my overcast eyes as a kid. I didn’t want them either, but every night, the same few questions wracked my mind and made my eyes sting. I laid awake mulling over whether or not I accidentally lied or stole something. The other kids hated how I wouldn’t go on playdates with them, but it was Sunday! I know now You probably would have forgiven me, but I didn’t want to take any chances. Just the thought of hellfire made me sweat.

That those who need to find forgiveness, not only from you but from themselves, are able to gain absolution, I pray to the Lord.

Lord, hear my prayer.

Sometimes my mind wanders to the few friends I had then until I decided to pretend to fight in Your name. The venom I spat is still festering inside me, the hell that broke loose still burns in my stomach, and what was it all for? I was angry just because we believed in You in different ways, because I read different books than they did. My ears still remember how they broke down, being called a monster just for wanting to exist differently. I never did get the chance to apologize, but I don’t think I could ever do them justice.

I hope they’re doing better now.

That those who do not worship You find the comfort they seek, regardless of their religion, I pray to the Lord.

Lord, hear my prayer.

As a child, I forgot that devils can quote scripture. I got more acclimated to the fading pews and the stiff backrest against my body with every mass I attended, but even during college I could never find myself sitting still during prayer. I laughed at the story of the golden calf, not realizing I was throwing gold into the fire every Sunday just because my priest instructed me to do so. I did everything my childhood self would admonish me for without realizing it. I won’t ever be able to understand how I was foolish enough to believe You wanted us to hate, but maybe the best I can do is learn how to love like You.

That those who truly bring our world closer to heaven inherit the earth instead of those who take Your name in vain, I pray to the Lord.

Lord, hear my prayer.

I know You said to come as you are, but my knees still quiver at the thought of doing so. Every time I’ve considered coming back to talk, my nerves take over my body and push me away from the door. I know You understand, and I’ll continue to live by Your word until I can look You in the eye.

That the next time we meet, You will be able to smile down on me regardless of how long it will take, I pray to the Lord.

Lord, hear my prayer.