Lord, not just for those with tin foil hats, those grandfathers and mothers of the cause, but for our common brothers and sisters with common internet fears, we pray. For they too have hearts floating in right intention. For those who guard their children against vaccinations, we pray. For those who shout conspiracy at climate science, dear Lord. For, though they are not the ascetics who bemoan government controlled weather, though they do not have bomb cellars stocked with canned beans from Y2K, aren’t their facebook posts a kind of prayer? Aren’t their shared graphics with partially true statistics a kind of blind faith? Lord, You did not command us to be skeptics, but to serve with a faith we cannot prove. It has been centuries since You’ve visited, but You always leave signs. And when we find our phones tapped, our peanut butter recalled, our rivers cancered, and our very Cheetos engineered for addictiveness, can we not look to our mildly paranoid brothers and sisters and proclaim, “Blessed be”? For if they are not your messengers, then they are your sign of something bigger, something unseen. If we do not find the answer, oh Lord, we find ourselves again in the ineffable. And for Your glorious mysteries, let us pray.

Christy Crutchfield
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