So I asked to be a Prophet

Really. I prayed that. It came up one Sunday in my Mystics, Cynics and Pilgrims class. I fit into this class very well. You might say it was made for me...literally. Back when I was in a regular adult Sunday School class, I would ask a question. Then it would get very quiet. We got to practice the discipline of silence until the teacher would say... Well...ok...um, good question, now back to the Sermon on the Mount. My questions were not the ones that others were asking. They didn't understand what I was determined to discover. It seems I needed special education. So, we created a new class that came to be MCP. We started out as just Mystics and Cynics (misfits, too, to tell the truth). Just a few of us who wanted to ask those questions and not be afraid of the answers.

"How do I know there is a God?"

"How can I find God?"

We asked those and any other question. We looked for answers...sometimes in unorthodox places. We shared, we bonded, we became for each other a safe place. Then, we struck out on a journey of discovery. Contemplation. Silence. Disbelief. Pain. Reorientation. Rest. Struggle. We became mystical, cynical pilgrims who were determined to be on that journey together.

So, one day, we were discussing something about how we relate to the world outside of Christian community.

I asked, "What would happen if I prayed to be a prophet?"

John said, "How would we tell the difference?"

John's job is to be a quiet sage for most of the time and then say the one thing we all wish we had said. He is also a very witty smart alec. John thinks I am outrageous enough that no one would notice if I came out of the wilderness of South Texas one day sucking locust juice from my fingers and started prophesying.

So I prayed to be a prophet. Really. I realize that takes some hutzpah. With not a small amount of trepidation, I prayed it anyway.

"Dear GOD, I want to be a prophet. I realize that I have no qualifications except an unusually loud mouth...oh, and I don't care much for what people think of me, if I am doing what I think is right...and John thinks I am weird already. So, I want to be a prophet, if you please. AMEN"

So far, I am not a prophet. At least I think I am not. Going by John's theory, I would just segue on into Prophet status with no one the wiser. And I certainly don't feel any wiser myself. But I do hear GOD (appropriate pause...) and I bet you do, too. Divine intuition, conscience, the little white angel on your right shoulder. We have lots of ways of explaining it away, but it's GOD. You know it is. Stop being so busy and listen. Can you imagine a creator that would not say a word to the people he loves? We are not supposed to hear things. We lock those people up and give them pharmaceuticals. Imaginary friends are for children, we say. I say it's GOD.

I am Cynthia Huddleston, 47 years old, wife and mother. I am not a prophet, but I am a poet, have been since I was about 8 years old. I blog a little, write a lot. Currently, I am going back to college to get the degree I missed along the line. I am trained to work as a Victim's Advocate and hope to use that more when I graduate.

My intentions for this blog are simple. I will tell you what I think and wonder about GOD and listen to what you think. Mostly prose...sometimes a psalm.