Praying to a God I Can't Believe In

And the Practice of Showing Up Anyway

Yesterday, I wrote about silence—the kind that asks us to sit still and face what’s inside. But silence isn’t the whole story. It’s the pause before the next step, the breath before we move.

This morning, I woke up with the sense that something was unfinished. I stumbled to the coffee maker, poured a steaming mug, and carried it to my quiet place—my altar.

Praying like this—on my knees, talking to God—is still new for me. It’s not

something I’ve done much of in my life, at least not consistently. But now, it’s becoming a daily practice. Some mornings, it feels awkward. Other mornings, it feels like something in me has been waiting for this act of surrender.

So, I knelt, rested my hands on my thighs, and closed my eyes.

I prayed—not perfectly, but honestly. I asked for clarity, for good direction. I prayed to let go of selfishness and the creeping pull of self-pity. Most of all, I prayed to wake up to the truth—whatever that might be—and to be useful, to show up for something bigger than myself.

Here’s the thing: I don’t always know who or what I’m praying to.

Some days, it’s Love itself—the force that holds the world together. Other times, it’s someone like Jesus or Neem Karoli Baba. Sometimes, it’s the divine feminine, Mary or Mary Magdalene, or just the vast, unknowable mystery.

But it doesn’t matter. What matters is the act of showing up, especially when doubt is loud.

As I sat with my coffee afterward, the stillness gave way to a familiar nudge: It’s time to be of more service.

Not just sitting in silence, not just reflecting on my own questions, but turning outward—taking what I’ve learned, what I’m still learning, and offering it to others.

For most of my life, faith has felt like a private quest, something I had to figure out on my own. But this morning, it felt clearer than ever: faith isn’t just about what I gain; it’s about what I give.

What about you?

Have you felt that pull to step beyond yourself and into something larger? Maybe it comes during a walk, in a conversation, or in those rare moments when life feels both vast and deeply personal. Wherever it comes from, it’s worth listening to.

Faith, I’m learning, isn’t about certainty. It’s about trust.

Some mornings, I doubt there’s anyone on the other side of my prayers. But I pray anyway. Because the act of praying softens me. It takes my questions and turns them into something alive.

And this morning, that aliveness pointed me outward: It’s not just about you. Show up for others.

So, here’s my invitation:

Take the next step. What can you give? How can you serve? What might your struggles mean for someone else?

Because maybe faith isn’t about believing in God the way we think we should. Maybe it’s about letting the mystery—whatever we call it—believe in us.

Reflection:
What’s the next step for you? How might your questions or struggles lead to something greater? I’d love to hear your thoughts—reply to this email, and let’s keep the conversation alive.

With love and purpose,
Brad