I attended my very first prayer meeting yesterday with my wife and son. When we arrived at the venue, people were singing and motioning with their hands to the beat of lively, contagious music. My son looked perplexed, and I called my wife's attention to it. But if truth be told, I was more perplexed than my son, although I've always been good at hiding puzzlement and surprise under a facade of calm and cool disposition, one of my survival skills.
I've been quite un-spiritual for quite some time now, relying on my abilities and luck to get by. Prayer has lost its attractiveness, usefulness, and meaning. My prayers were, for the most part, unanswered. Only the prayers of my so-called religious fanatics, some of whom are people my wife and I know, deserved a response from Heaven. I felt betrayed, like an outcast, unworthy of divine favors. My assiduous pleas to Heaven, which were never self-serving as they were dedicated to the welfare of my loved ones, went largely unrequited.
I've misjudged many of my goals, and the time I need to reach them. I thought that they could wait, and that I could live forever. And now that I feel pressured to do so many things in just a short time, I feel miserable. I never will be able to do them all. Infirmity and death will overtake me.
I've never been given to religious fervor or fanaticism, but in the prayer meeting, in the FEAST as it is called, I felt the inspiration to pursue my dreams anew. It gave me hope, an additional lifeline. For the desperate, these are priceless things. I don't expect miracles to happen overnight, but I've come to believe again that they can and do happen.
FEAST preachings go straight to the core of everyday life. They embrace the mind, body, and spirit with warm commonality. I felt immediately at ease and at home, rejoicing with kindred spirits.
