A Crisis of Faith

As I grew up, it was natural to dress nicely on Sunday and go to church. My brother and I would sit in the pew and read the hymn books, searching for stories within the lyrics. Sundays seemed linger, and church always became a nuisance to my brother and I. Despite our distaste for attending mass every Sunday, we grew up with God. We learned how he forgave sins and responded to prayers.

I also grew up visiting my Grandma. She lived in a little house in the middle of Oakland somewhere. She had five children, Jose, Dora, Linda, Felix and Robert (My dad). My mom and dad would always take us over to her house. I remember all the statues of Jesus, and the pasture and all the little animals. I enjoyed visiting my grandma though, and I often looked forward to the twenty minute drive to her house.

I had never prayed for help before, I had never encountered anything that needed help from a person as mighty as God. But ever since I was little I was taught to pray before eating meals. I always just went along with the praying never asking why we prayed or what the point of it was. Nevertheless, I prayed before every meal, and cluelessly asked God to keep me healthy and safe.

Later on I started questioning praying more and more. My family and I stopped going to church and we just continued praying before meals. I was never really fond of praying before meals but I didn’t want any trouble so I did it anyways. One day I thought to myself, what is the point of praying and why do I do it. I thought about it for a long time and I still questioned it for a while after.

A week long break came upon me, and I traveled out of state with my family. We had a good time, and by the end of the week, we were looking forward to seeing our dog and all our friends again. That night we drove back home and it was a long drive. I don’t remember quite what happened but something happened to our car on the way back and we started slipping. We seemed like we were going to fall over a cliff.

As we were sliding on the roads of the hill nearing the cliff I started to pray. Naturally I didn’t expect anything of it but I did it anyways as a natural thing. I picked up from my family sort of a “When in doubt pray it out” kind of thing. I don’t know why I did it but I just did.

After making it safely down the hill without any troubles after that I question it some more. I was thinking, “Why did I pray even though I really don’t believe in it.“ I still could never figure it out why I had prayed when I was in my time of need. It was just a natural instinct I guess.


I have now decided after thinking about this topic for so long, that even if people do not believe in god they still pray when they need to. I have talked to friends, teachers, and even my parents about this topic but I get different answers. Recently in the years I have questioned if there even was a god. I have no proof of him, despite countless attempts of praying. There just seems to be no sign of this mighty figure in the sky.

As a result of questioning God I have gotten nowhere. My search for him has been pretty limited considering I can not get a straight answer out of anyone. People have their own different opinions and its hard to pick and choose which ones I want to believe. I am sure one day I will fine an answer to my questions and hopefully that answer will come before I die. Because who knows, when I die I could go to heaven and see God. I will never know until then. But this is my crisis of faith, trying to find God.