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Wrestling with God: A Book of Uncommon Prayer
Wrestling with God: A Book of Uncommon Prayer
Wrestling with God: A Book of Uncommon Prayer
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Wrestling with God: A Book of Uncommon Prayer

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Family man Jason Corliss is a small-town banker who is making every attempt to stay sane despite his rat race through life. Seemingly self-assured, Jason is good at putting up a front. Deep inside, he knows he is unhappy, but he has no idea how to make it better. But when a traumatic personal experience forces him to question his rather unenthusiastic views about God and his church, Jason embarks on an unorthodox prayer journey in an attempt to uncover meaning in his life.

With guidance from his pastor, Jason begins praying every night. While seated in a leather chair in his den, Jason closes his eyes, opens his heart, and pours out his questions, fears, and hopes to a spiritual being he is not even sure is there. As God gently places new thoughts, ideas, and understandings in his mind, Jason asks God to help give him a new start, to fill the emptiness in his soul, and to help him find the purpose of his life.

In this compelling spiritual story, a man desperate to confront the issues in his life turns to faithful prayer for the answers, ultimately remaking not only his life, but the lives of those who love him.

LanguageEnglish
PublisheriUniverse
Release dateNov 29, 2012
ISBN9781475963250
Wrestling with God: A Book of Uncommon Prayer
Author

Stanley A. Fry

Stanley A. Fry has earned two Master’s degrees, one in theology and the other in philosophy, and a PhD in philosophy. He has served for more than forty years as pastor of churches in Brazil and the United States. This is Fry’s fourth book. He lives in Rutland, Vermont with his wife, Edith.

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    Wrestling with God - Stanley A. Fry

    Copyright © 2013 by Stanley A. Fry

    All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

    This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

    iUniverse books may be ordered through booksellers or by contacting:

    iUniverse

    1663 Liberty Drive

    Bloomington, IN 47403

    www.iuniverse.com

    1-800-Authors (1-800-288-4677)

    Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

    Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

    Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

    Quotes from the Bible are taken from the New International Version.

    ISBN: 978-1-4759-6327-4 (sc)

    ISBN: 978-1-4759-6326-7 (hc)

    ISBN: 978-1-4759-6325-0 (e)

    Library of Congress Control Number: 2012921850

    iUniverse rev. date: 1/11/2013

    Contents

    Acknowledgments

    1. The Rat Race in Archer

    2. Searching for a Future

    3. If God Exists at All

    4. The Road Ahead

    5. Nobody Knows

    6. Why?

    7. Teacher, Teacher

    8. Who Wants to Be Poor?

    9. Jesus Wept

    10. The Softening of Rigidities Within

    11. Righteousness Is for Saints

    12. I Can’t Do It, God

    13. No Excuses Accepted

    14. Peace Is Not a Dirty Word

    15. What the Cross Really Means

    16. The Journey Is Forever

    End Notes

    With profound gratitude,

    I dedicate this story

    of one man’s spiritual journey

    to my father, Glenn C. Fry,

    who, by his example, taught me

    what it means to wrestle with God.

    Acknowledgments

    I want to thank the following people for their assistance with this tale of a banker’s search for the meaning of life:

    Marilynn Peterson, for her suggestions and proofing; Shirley Oskamp, for her recommendation of an important resource; Kip Fry and Peter Fry for editorial advice and proofing; and Edith Schisler, for her loving support. Each has made an important contribution to the outcome contained between these covers. Still, I gladly accept full responsibility and exonerate them all.

    Prayer Is the Soul’s Sincere Desire

    Prayer is the soul’s sincere desire,

       unuttered or expressed,

       the motion of a hidden fire,

       that trembles in the breast.

    Prayer is the burden of a sigh,

       the falling of a tear,

       the upward glancing of an eye,

       when none but God is near.

    Prayer is the simplest form of speech

       that infant lips can try,

       the sublimest strains that reach

       the Majesty on high.

    Prayer is the contrite sinners’ voice

       returning from their way,

       while angels in their songs rejoice

       and cry, Behold, they pray!

    Prayer is the Christians’ vital breath,

       the Christians’ native air,

       their watchword at the gates of death;

       they enter heaven with prayer.

    O Thou, by whom we come to God,

       the Life, the Truth, the Way;

       the path of prayer thyself hast trod;

       Lord, teach us how to pray!

    James Montgomery,

    The United Methodist Hymnal, Cokesbury,

    No. 492, 1818

    1. The Rat Race in Archer

    J ason Corliss adjusted his tie as he gazed into the mirror. His eyes were bloodshot. He touched the dark smudges just below them to assure himself that they were real skin and would not wash away with a damp cloth. Then he ran his comb through his hair one last time before hurrying downstairs. He waved at the kids, who were eating their breakfast before heading off to school. He kissed his wife at the door and sprinted for his car. It seemed like he was always running late for work or chasing down someone he had business with. After all, he had a family to support and a job that required attention to details. Their demands on him seemed to grow heavier every year.

    His wife, Claire, was a beautiful woman, but she was always adding social involvements to their already-busy schedule. All three of the kids were going to need a lot of help when they were ready for college. College costs were skyrocketing. Jared was already in eighth grade and wrapped up in his baseball team. Jason was expected to attend all his games. Lindsey was just twelve and already a fine young pianist, but Jason had to attend her recitals too. And the third one—a bit of a surprise, to tell the truth—was only four and never seemed to slow down until he was at the supper table when he invariably fell asleep over his food. He was Teddie, named after Claire’s father.

    Claire and Jason always stayed in touch with their children’s teachers. Sunday mornings, at Claire’s insistence, they attended St. Matthew’s Church, where the Rev. Tom Moody was their pastor.

    Jason was a banker and a well-known citizen in the small town of Archer, where the Corliss family lived. He and his friends at work often spent their lunch hour comparing notes on what they called the rat race. One day, his friend Lenny Davis said, Isn’t there a better way to live than playing games with money?

    Glenn Jones’s rejoinder was, I wish it were a game. I think it’s nothing but a way to survive.

    Once, Pastor Tom had called Jason to ask if he would consider teaching a class of adults in Sunday school. But he courteously declined. He said, Well, Pastor, there are a lot of things around the church I would be glad to do, but I’m afraid teaching anybody about religion is too deep for me. Besides, I’ve got more on my plate than I can handle now.

    I respect your feeling about that, Jason, but you might think about the possibility down the road a bit. There will be opportunities for teacher training before the fall classes begin, he said. But Jason never gave it another thought.

    He believed in God all right. Of course, some of the things he’d heard about Jesus seemed pretty far-fetched. But he’d never let that bother him. He had too many other things to worry about without thinking about religion. He knew he was a good banker. And he was trying to be a good father and husband. But he thought all that was getting to be too much. Occasionally even Claire complained that he was too wrapped up in his work and often let it take precedence over the family.

    That evening after dinner, Jason was sitting in his den reading The Economist when Claire came into the room, took his magazine away from him, and sat on his lap. She kissed him, ran her hand through his hair, and said, Sweetheart, you’re not very happy these days, are you? I think you’re working too hard. Even when you have a few minutes after dinner to relax, you have to be reading a professional magazine.

    I know you’re right, honey. But what else am I to do? Sometimes I—

    What are you thinking? Are you thinking that this rat race, as you call it, just isn’t worth it?

    I really wonder.

    Claire looked deep into his eyes for several moments. There were tears there. She said, I know you do it for me and the kids. Isn’t that enough? But somehow, he thought, it wasn’t.

    He said, I don’t know. What are we doing? Just raising up another generation so our kids can join the rat race in turn. And then they rear a new generation and so on forever? Generation after generation, until the human species finally destroys itself? It makes no sense!

    I think maybe you just need to go to bed early tonight and sleep off this bad mood. Come on. She stood up and almost dragged him to the bedroom.

    Sometime during the night he awoke and found himself wondering again where it was all going. Everything revolved around his work. He thought, It’s like Claire said. I’m doing it for her and the kids. But he knew that was a cop-out. So he asked himself again, Why am I doing it? It’s not for the money, is it? I don’t make all that much. So why? Maybe it’s because every time I relax a little, I overwhelm myself with just these kinds of questions. There are no answers, and I think I’m going nuts. He lay there a long time before he was able to turn off the questioning and go back to sleep. Such wakeful nights had been occurring a lot these last few months.

    It was six o’clock in the morning when his alarm went off and he was instantly on his feet and heading for the bathroom. He forced himself to put out of his mind the nagging questions that had haunted his sleep during the night.

    Noon came, and Lenny Davis, one of the loan officers at the bank, stopped by Jason’s desk. He’d known Lenny for a number of years, and they were friends, but not close. So he was a bit surprised when Lenny said, Jason, how about lunch today at Belle’s Diner? I have something I’d like to ask you about.

    Hi, Lenny. I was going to work through noon, but I guess it can wait for an hour or so. Sure. Jason gathered the papers on his desk, stacked them in a neat pile,

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