Do You Even Pray? - The Troll Returns

    The troll rolled up at my house a few seconds after I got home from work myself. I knew it was him by the roar and rumble of the damaged muffler on his pickup truck. He pulled up to the sidewalk just past my house and I saw that bumper-sticker of his, “Luke 23:46 Still Applies!”

    “Hold up there, Carter,” he bellowed as he stepped out of his truck. “I’ve got a question for you.”

    ‘This should be fun,’ I thought to myself as I got out of my car and turned back to him. “What’s up, Gunner?”

    He stepped quickly up my driveway. “I just want to know, do you pray, Carter? Do you?”

    I sighed and closed my car door. “Listen,” I said. “You can come in and insult me all you want, but I need you to help me with something.”

    “What?” he asked taken aback. He actually took a step backwards as he said it.

    “Simple. Just what I said. You can come in and sneer and snarl at me all you want, but I promised my wife that I’d put up some shelves for her and I need some help holding things level. If you want to continue your… discussion, you’ll have to help me with that project.”

    I pushed the lock button on my key fob and the car alarm honked twice, then I walked to the front door. “Are you coming?” I asked him.

    “I’ve been watching you,” he said as soon as we were inside the house. “You’ve been holding out. I’ve been listening and you’ve been keeping secrets.”

    “Yeah. Yeah. Yeah,” I said. “Let me change my clothes and get my tools and we can continue the fun.”

    “Here you are, struggling in deep water,” he shouted up the stairs to me as I changed out of my work uniform. “Fire burning, smoke grenades exploding all around you. War. Disaster. Unrest. All of your modern scientific life. And all I can say is, why not just accept the providence of God? Why not just let God open your mind?"

    I came back down in jeans and a t-shirt. “Keep going,” I said. “I’m just going to grab my tools.”

    “Strong delusions,” he said. “You’ve believed the lies. The lies of the government, the lies in your church – which we should talk about. You need a better church. A Bible believing church…”

    “Right. Hold that,” I said, handing him the shelf.

    “God’s laws are resolute. Not open to debate,” he continued.

    “Uh-huh,” I nodded as I measured and marked the studs with a pencil.

    “Admit it,” he said.

    “Hold that,” I repeated.

    “Admit it. You don’t even know what the truth is.”

    “You’re probably right,” I said, handing him a handful of screws.

    “So again: Do you even pray, Carter? Answer me this. Do you actually believe that God hears and answers prayers? Tell me you’re not one of those…”

    I drew the line. “Is the bubble in the middle?” I asked him and handed him the level.

    “Are you even listening to me?” he asked but I was already running the drill to secure the brackets to the wall and I couldn’t hear him.

    It’s the smugness that gets me. The unwarranted confidence that God hears his prayers as an unquestioned absolute. And not only hears but responds. Answers. And answers positively. Does he pray for and miraculously find a parking spot in the grocery store parking lot? Do I pray? Sure I pray. Of course, I pray. But does God hear? Does God answer? I don’t know; it’s a blur and a wonder. I pray like a man giving up the ghost.

    I finished with the drill and wiped a bit of plaster from the wall. Together we secured the shelf to the brackets. “That looks pretty good,” I said.

    “Oh, yeah. That’s going to be pretty secure there,” he said.

    “Yeah,” I nodded. “She’s going to be happy. Thanks,” I said and showed him the door.

An Imaginary Conversation with a Real Troll 
Another Conversation with a Real Troll: I Will Not Fight the Argument
A Third Conversation with a Real Troll: Supermarket Wrestling