My Prayer upon Hearing about Father's Conviction

Rebecca Holman
September 13, 1983

Dear Heavenly Father.

Here before You I sit, lowly at your feet. We have come a long way together, and many times You were alone, for I left this path, often only to find You taking my hand to lead me back again.

Through all the centuries You have passed, searching for loving hearts, searching for a people who would be glad to know You. But to understand You they had to suffer and then they would turn away, and there You were, alone again with Your aching heart. Alone to search the world. You sent Your son to us and we rose up and killed him. He hung there on the cross and in his final breath he asked You to forgive -- and You did, though it must have been so hard. You turned Your face toward the future to see Your son come again. You sigh and go on.

When I complain Heavenly Father, I don't think of You or the future we will have together. I only think of me. Right now I am at a loss, for my heart is not really speaking. It is not truly deep enough to know Your love and concern for this age. But to praise You, Father, is my hope and dream. You have set my feet on high places. My lips want to sing and my feet want to dance but my ego brings me down. So far down. Yet I climb up again. Now Father I am rising out of a valley to see the world around me. You have placed people around me whom I can serve and respect. You have not forgotten my face.

True Parents, True Parents, or -- a name, a feeling, a cosmic event, and You placed me in their path. They stand accused, and how can I, who am nothing, heal their sorrow?

Your son has come again and he breathes constant forgiveness. He breathes True Love. How can I serve True Parents who have abandoned their lives for people like me? May I know the answer? Maybe I have known all along but to admit it is to take responsibility. I remember Jesus and I feel who he was. And one greater than lie has come; how can I express that which there are no words for?

Can one grow plums in a desert? No! For such a succulent thing would only dry and wither. Alas, the love my True Parents bring seems to dry in the desert of this world's heart. It dries in the depth of the bowels of the earth and seems to become stone.

Heavenly Father, here we stand, followers accused. But worse, we are guilty, guilty of not having faith to fulfill Your desire and become the people You need and can trust, and hence Your son must again hang on the cross of cosmic accusation, bloodied by curses and unprotected by his followers' meager prayers. He bears our sins in his bosom and forgiveness on his lips. How long Father? How long will it be till we seek your truth and stand hand in hand together? Black, White, Red, Brown, Yellow; Jew, Catholic, Baptist, Buddhist, and we breathe forgiveness at our ancestors' wrongs and we bind to Your True Son... A world reborn.

September 13, 1983 by Rebecca Holman
Rebecca is presently with the IOWC # 17, David Payer