I don’t think God minds foxhole prayers. When I was in my deepest, darkest foxhole, God didn’t hang up on me when I dialed the most holy 911 in the sky. God took my call. Gave me what I needed. Not what I wanted. What I needed.
I have been thinking about this because I went to church yesterday – Christmas morning. I hadn’t been to church in a couple of months but it didn’t seem to matter. Everyone seemed happy to see me and I was glad to see them.
I used to belong to a church where you had to go to church every Sunday. It was a sin to skip church – even on vacation or in a blizzard. On Christmas and Easter you could always count on the priest to make a few sarcastic wisecracks about the parishioners who only went to church on Christmas and Easter.
I don’t belong to that church anymore. I joined a different church – and I really like it. Which brings me back to foxhole prayers…