Prayer: the Cry of Weakness

First off, I do not consider prayer a cry of weakness or anything negative. I'm sure it's possible that prayer may be negative for some people, but overall I assume prayer is a net positive.

Zora Neale Hurston has a chapter on religion in her autobiography Dust Tracks on a Road. She explains herself in greater detail in the 15th chapter titled "Religion." I recommend reading the whole chapter here if you're interested. 

Hurston, the daughter of a baptist preacher, grew up in church. But she was skeptical. When she learned of the world religions, she saw similar patterns. I didn't grow up with any religion nor church. And still, somehow, I didn't know belief in God was optional. God was so matter a factually spoken about, even by my biology teacher in high school, that I never considered questioning the existence of a God. But like Hurston, I was always skeptical of religions. When I learned of the world religions, the veil was pulled away.

Hurston and I may differ on God and metaphysics, but I really like her perspective and framing:

"I do not pretend to read God's mind. If He has a plan of the universe worked out to the smallest detail, it would be folly for me to presume to get down on my knees and attempt to revise it. That, to me, seems the highest form of sacrilege. So I do not pray. I accept the means at my disposal for working out my destiny. It seems to me that I have been given a mind and will-power for that very purpose. I do not expect God to single me out and grant me advantages over my fellow men. Prayer is for those who need it. Prayer seems to me a cry of weakness, and an attempt to avoid, by trickery, the rules of the game as laid down. I do not choose to admit weakness. I accept the challenge of responsibility. Life, as it is, does not frighten me, since I have made my peace with the universe as I find it, and bow to its laws. The ever-sleepless sea in its bed, crying out "How long?" to Time; million-formed and never motionless flame; the contemplation of these two aspects alone, affords me sufficient food for ten spans of my expected lifetime. It seems to me that organized creeds are collections of words around a wish. I feel no need for such. However, I would not, by word or deed, attempt to deprive another of the consolation it affords. It is simply not for me. Somebody else may have my rapturous glance at the archangels. The springing of the yellow line of morning out of the misty deep of dawn, is glory enough for me. I know that nothing is destructible; things merely change forms. When the consciousness we know as life ceases, I know that I shall still be part and parcel of the world. I was a part before the sun rolled into shape and burst forth in the glory of change. I was, when the earth was hurled out from its fiery rim. I shall return with the earth to Father Sun, and still exist in substance when the sun has lost its fire, and disintegrated in infinity to perhaps become a part of the whirling rubble in space. Why fear? The stuff of my being is matter, ever changing, ever moving, but never lost; so what need of denominations and creeds to deny myself the comfort of all my fellow men? The wide belt of the universe has no need for finger-rings. I am one with the infinite and need no other assurance."