Breaking Open My Teenage Prayer Journals
And my super-secret code for sin
In the beginning, was the Word.
God’s word, yes.
But have you ever read the words of a 16-year-old confessing sins using top-secret codes?
How about the words of a teen asking Jesus to get her a date with the boy with curly blonde hair?
Well, grab some popcorn because I found my stash of prayer journals.
A caveat: I will be the first person to admit that the written documentation of my teenage spiritual walk is entertaining. Reading my dramatic laments about boys and gossip and school exams, you would think I was enduring the suffering of Job himself.
But for those familiar with the dogmatic teachings of conservative Evangelical Christianity, you can see that my journal entries show the guilt I felt because I could never measure up to God’s standards.
So let’s dive into this amusing and revealing archive together and see what we can learn.
Before my family’s relocation to Michigan, I dragged bins of mementos out of the closet to trash anything not “move-worthy.” That’s when I found several dusty notebooks from my teenage years chronicling my “quiet times.” (You can read more of my thoughts on quiet times in this article.)
The Diaries (aka “Prayer Journals”)
To the religiously uninitiated, my notebooks resembled any 16-year-old’s diaries, with a key difference: I didn’t write TO the diary. My entries addressed God as if I was talking directly to him.
For example:
August 19, 1996
Lord, I trust you to work out the plans for the Last Blast. I put it in your hands.
“Last Blast” was our end-of-the-summer youth group camping trip. Not sure exactly what the plans were that I was worried about, but I trusted the Lord and put it in his hands.
I was probably hoping to sit by the cute worship team bass player on the bus.
As an A student in my school work and my spiritual work, I aspired to faithfully complete quiet times and write in my prayer journal every day.
You can see the results in the ebb and flow of dates. In some written entries, I praised myself for staying on a hot streak.
May 22, 1996
Well, I’ve been writing and reading for about 1 1/2 mos. I’d have to say that’s a record. It has helped me. Very much so, Lord. I pray I can continue to spend time with you regularly even during the summer. Thanks for being there.
Five days later, however, I noted a dip in consistency. I am proud of myself, however, because I allowed myself grace.
May 27, 1996
I can’t find my favorite pen. This one clots too much. Anyway, I skipped a couple of days. No biggie. Just get right back on track.
One of my favorite entries includes a description of my latest boyfriend. My feelings overwhelmed me with joy, but not without chastizing myself to stay focused on God and not get too carried away:
Monday 4/14/97
[…] And Joseff… oh, I like him so much. Turns out he’s liked me ever since we met at a party last year!! We scammed on Sunday after hanging out all day, but I knew it would turn out alright. And it did. We are officially “seeing each other.” Oh, I LOVE his curly blonde hair. And he is so tall and good-looking. Dreamy, I would even venture. Lord, help me stay focused on you. And thanks for giving me a little fun while I’m here on earth.
I admitted that we “scammed” (in the 1990s, that meant to “make out”).
And it was thrilling.
But instead of reveling in my romantic escapade, I immediately redirected my thoughts to the Lord. Though my “earthly” desires felt good and normal, I feared they would take me down the wrong path. Church leaders taught us that sex always led us away from God. Cue the guilt and shame.
The note about thanking God for a little earthly fun strikes me as prescient: even years before my deconstruction, I knew that the time we have on earth is to be enjoyed.
The Prayer Action Sheets
I recorded yet another style of quiet times in my Xeroxed and stapled preprinted journal which held forms for “Bible Response Sheets” and “Prayer Action Sheets.”
I can’t remember where this small, blue journal came from. Either my school or church gave this to me. The cover featured a group of cartoon teens attempting to scale a huge Bible. Could that be a metaphor for my relationship with God?
With cheesy clip art in the corners, the pages of this journal held blanks for me to fill in each day. I only got through ten days of that particular journal, and the rest is empty. Apparently, I much preferred the unconstrained pages of a plain notebook to record my thoughts.
The journal directions began innocently enough. Spaces for “PRAISE” and “THANKSGIVING” followed the Bible verse summary.
But the dicey territory started at the CONFESSION blank (yes, it was in all caps.)
The sheet directed the quiet-timer to “Write down any sin(s) you need to confess.” Hilariously including parentheses around the “s” to make sure you didn’t feel limited to just one singular sin, the directive to choose either singular or plural sin(s) still only included two printed lines. So you had better write these sins down on the regular or you would run out of space.
On November 11th, 1997, I confessed to the sin of gossip:
“I am sorry of [sic] my mouth that is quick to spread gossip.”
Sins like gossip were innocuous enough, but what about the real stuff?
I actually developed a code for sins I didn’t want to commit to paper. “W.S” stands for “Worst Sin” since I could NEVER write down the word “masturbation” on a page that had a cartoon guy kneeling right above my confessions.
Our Christian school teachers and church youth pastors taught us to run from all sexual sin, and that included solo sexual sin. I spent so much emotional energy feeling shame about masturbating. I prayed to stay strong and resist but always gave in to temptation. And then I felt so guilty. So I prayed that God would forgive me. It was a vicious cycle.
That’s purity culture for you, folks!
Did I find God’s will or not?
Overall, my diary entries reveal my longing for answers. The entries include a standing prayer to God pleading for him to “make his will clear to me.” I was always crying out to God to “show me your plan” and “show me what to do.”
I always knew what the end result of a good Christian life should be: don’t gossip or slander, don’t act in anger, don’t think about sex, don’t be prideful. But how was I supposed to actually get there? It was a journey that I was constantly undertaking and failing.
God’s will was simultaneously obvious and obscure.
Looking back through these writings, I see my complicated relationship with the Christian God, a God who I dearly loved. A God who I wanted so desperately to please.
Sept. 7, 1996
Dear God, you know my heart. You know my desire to be like you. I love you: you gave your son for me. I will live accordingly.
Page after page revealed that, as a teenager, writing helped me make sense of my life. Though my questions may have remained unanswered, my journal allowed me to process my feelings. To this day I use writing to work through my thoughts.
And I now see that I actually did learn from divinely-inspired words. But they were just my own words all along.
