This thought has been mulling over in my mind for months. I can actually pinpoint the moment I began to contemplate it.
Have you seen Interstellar? I’ve seen it; twice, actually. The first time, I saw it alone. I know; one of those people. But it’s true; I went to a movie by myself. . . on Thanksgiving Day. . . I promise I have friends and family that love me. I was visiting some of my siblings and their families in Washington DC over the holiday. They had let me know before I flew out there that they wanted to see MockingJay while I was there. I was fine with that, but ended up seeing it with my dad just two days before I went to DC. As good as MockingJay was, I was not feeling the need to see it 48 hours after I had already seen it. So they all went to see MockingJay, and I had heard good things about Interstellar, so I decided to go see that instead.
Some of you haven’t seen it. Some of you probably saw it, but are even less aware of what happened than before you saw it (which seems to be Christopher Nolan’s trademark). Some of you don’t need a refresher, but you’ll just have to bear with me while I give some Interstellar background. I will try not to spoil anything significant:
In the future, a crop blight has caused civilization to regress into a failing agrarian society. Former NASA pilot Cooper (Matthew McConaughey) runs a farm with his family. Through a series of events I won’t go into now, NASA's "Lazarus missions" have identified three potentially habitable worlds orbiting a black hole and sent scout astronauts who surveyed them. NASA recruits Cooper to pilot the spacecraft Endurance to recover the astronauts' data; if one of the planets is habitable, humanity will follow on space stations. Cooper's departure devastates his children-- particularly Murphy (his daughter) -- and they part on bad terms.
However, the space shuttle was equipped with a transmitter and receiver that allowed the astronauts to communicate via video clips with their families on earth. You see the joy and relief in Cooper’s face as he sees his family in the videos they have sent from earth. You see his excitement and joy as his son tell him of his hobbies, activities, schooling, and dating. You also see him ache as his daughter-- still upset with him leaving them-- refuses to ever send him a video message.
As they get closer to the black hole, they experience severe gravitational time dilation. In other words, time is distorted and moves much more quickly than it does on earth. On one particular planet, each hour on the surface is seven years on earth. In an unfortunate mishap, they get grounded on the surface of the planet longer than they had anticipated. By the time they return to the shuttle, 23 years have passed on earth. Upon realizing this, Cooper goes directly to the video receiver to watch the messages his family had left during that time. Unfortunately, the shuttle’s transmitter was disabled; so while they are able to receive video, they are now unable to send any messages back to earth.
Cooper watches each video. At this point, all of them sent by his son Tom (Cooper’s father-in-law, who had also sent videos occasionally, had passed away). Cooper listens as Tom talks about his experiences as he starts to date, marries, and begins his own family. Cooper is overjoyed to see Tom’s progress but is sadden that He was not able to be there with his son as he made these steps in his life. As the videos continue,more time lapses between each recorded message. Cooper learns that Tom’s first child died in infancy. With time, Tom’s countenance changes. He seems to be anxious and unsure about the future. Not having received a return message from his father in years, he begins to wonder if he is still there; if he is still listening. Even though Tom has not heard from his father in years, he hold on to the hope that he might soon. But as time goes one, he begins to doubt. He begins to believe what others have said: that his father is dead; that no one is hearing his messages.
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| Cooper watches video messages from his son. |
As Tom is explaining this on the video; talking through his doubts and struggles, believing that nobody is really listening anymore, you see how distraught Cooper is. It pains him to see the suffering his son has undergone. He aches as his son loses faith and hope before his own eyes. He weeps as he is unable to be with his son or let him know he is still there. And then the video receiver goes blank. It would prove to be the last time Cooper would hear from his son Tom.
This is it. This for me was an incredibly emotional, eye-opening experience. I was grateful that I had the opportunity to see this and experiences it on my own, because of what it allowed me to feel: this was my relationship with God; this was my experience with prayer.
I may, in the next post (which I will hopefully get up in a few days), talk about my history with prayer. But today, I’m going to address this aspect of it. I apologize in advance if I don’t give all the details, but I will give enough to hopefully make it relatable.
After returning from my mission, I hit a rough phase. After knowing exactly what I was supposed to do for two years-- I like many other returned missionaries-- felt discouraged, unfulfilled, and unsure of what direction to go. I was not clear as various aspects of schooling, work, dating, and relationships in general. I was unsure even as to what I needed to focus on or what my purpose was to be at this stage in my life. Many had told me it was “my time”. My time to progress, grow, study, learn, and earn. But that seemed hollow to me.
During this time too, I felt as though the trials of my life seemed to redouble their efforts and I struggled to find refuge from the constant onslaught of my adversaries. It seemed I couldn’t get away from them and at times found myself weakening under their weight.
As a missionary, I had taught many of the power of prayer. I myself had felt it’s power, but almost always in the context of someone else’s life. During my mission, my focus was not myself. So my prayer were always for others or for me to better help others. I was not very good at praying for my own needs at this point. But I began to try. I would pray that God give me some time to figure life out before I was weighed down with trials. I wanted time to get back on my feet and brace myself for the storms that were to come.
But it didn’t happen. The storms didn’t cease; the waves didn’t calm. I was still waiting for Christ to calm the seas around me, but as well as I could see, the waves and winds were as turbulent as ever. I began to feel discouraged. I started to wonder if I had done something to offend God. Maybe He was upset with me and punishing me. Maybe He had grown tired of listening to me. Unsure of what had happened or why I couldn’t feel Him or get answers to my prayers.
Without answers to prayers showing up, I began to questions prayer. What was the point of asking, if God either was too apathetic, angry, or “wise” to answer. If He knows what He is going to do, there wasn’t much reason for my input. My petitions became less fervent and faith-filled. My prayers became less frequent and faithful. I felt God either didn’t care or wasn’t listening to me anymore. Feeling abandoned, I began to abandon Him.
Like Cooper’s son Tom, I waited. I wanted, so badly to hear from my Father. I left “messages”, but didn’t feel as though I was getting any response to them. Like Tom, I began to doubt the purpose of those messages. Many of us, if not all, have asked at one time or another why we may not get answers to our prayers.
Elder Bednar said that these times of apparent darkness or distance in our lives can really be a demonstration of God's great trust in us. Elder Bednar suggests that maybe God knows we don't need those impressions as frequently or as powerfully as once we did; maybe He just trusts us to do what is right.
There are so many things with prayer that I could address and want to. This is my first attempt at a two-part post. Hopefully it bodes well. But for now, just hold with me on this one truth; that even though we are unable to see our Father, or at times unable to feel with fervor that He is near; watchful and listening, I testify He is.
Like Cooper, our Heavenly Father listens intently to each and every message we send him. He joys in our successes and triumphs, He praises our growth and progress. In the same way, He aches for our pains; He weeps at our suffering. Nothing is as extruciatingly painful to our Heavenly Father than to see and feel our faith and hope in Him dwindle and our connection with Him wane.
He is there; ever watchful and full of love. It is only as we come to understand His true purpose and nature can we really begin to trust Him and His intentions. Only then can we feel that He is with us, even when we cannot see His face before us.
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