Bunmi Laditan - Dear God

Praise for Dear God I am not religious. This book should not be for me. But it was. Beautiful prose... brutal honesty... comfort and grace and relevance.

Every moment I was reading it, I was not alone. What kind of magic is this? JENNY LAWSON,NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR OF FURIOUSLY HAPPY Already known for her hilarious storytelling, Bunmi Laditan returns with more of her humanity on display. Here she speaks with God honestly, giving us permission to do the same. AUSTIN CHANNING BROWN,NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR OF IM STILL HERE Bunmi Laditan vulnerably and courageously shows us how to bring our doubts and accusations, our fears and uncertainties, to God directly. Bunmi opens her heart on every page, from the mundane to the deeply personal, as she blurs the lines between poetry and prayer, love and fear, trust and mistrust. JARED BYAS, AUTHOR OF LOVE MATTERS MORE AND COHOST OF THE BIBLE FOR NORMAL PEOPLE PODCAST ZONDERVAN BOOKS Dear God Copyright 2021 by Bunmi Laditan Requests for information should be addressed to: Zondervan, 3900 Sparks Dr. JARED BYAS, AUTHOR OF LOVE MATTERS MORE AND COHOST OF THE BIBLE FOR NORMAL PEOPLE PODCAST ZONDERVAN BOOKS Dear God Copyright 2021 by Bunmi Laditan Requests for information should be addressed to: Zondervan, 3900 Sparks Dr.

SE, Grand Rapids, Michigan 49546 Zondervan titles may be purchased in bulk for educational, business, fundraising, or sales promotional use. For information, please email SpecialMarkets@Zondervan.com. ISBN 978-0-310-35918-0 (audio) Epub Edition December 2020 9780310359173

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Laditan, Bunmi, author. Title: Dear God : honest prayers to a God who listens / Bunmi Laditan. Description: Grand Rapids : Zondervan, 2020. | Summary: This broken world so often breaks our hearts and sends us searching for a word of divine love.

In Dear God, award-winning and beloved author Bunmi Laditan bravely says what were all thinking in this wittingly fresh and stunningly relatable collection of letters drawn from her journey of prayerful wrestling with God Provided by publisher. Identifiers: LCCN 2020023723 (print) | LCCN 2020023724 (ebook) | ISBN 9780310359166 (hardcover) | ISBN 9780310359173 (ebook) Subjects: LCSH: PrayerChristianity. | Presence of God. Classification: LCC BV210.3 .L33 2020 (print) | LCC BV210.3 (ebook) | DDC 242dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020023723 LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020023724

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All Scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated, are taken from The Holy Bible, New International Version, NIV. Copyright 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc. Used by permission of Zondervan.

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No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any meanselectronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or any otherexcept for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior permission of the publisher. Cover design: Thinkpen DesignCover illustrations: Potapov Alexander / TairA / ShutterstockInterior illustrations: Estee ZandeeInterior design: Denise FroehlichPrinted in the United States of America

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20 21 22 23 24 25/LSC/10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 To the God who sees me I was raised in a religious household and around religious people, but can say in all truth that while religious ideas permeated my mind, they never touched my heart. I know there were some good people of faith around me, but I found myself fixating on the hypocrites, growing angry as I saw them flourish and their harmful actions go unchecked. I felt very little love in religious settings, only the weight of the cultural rules and disdain for those deemed as outsiders and sinners. So I became onean outsider. I wandered.

I knew of God but had no relationship with God, and I felt a deep-down hatred for religious peopleespecially Christians, who I felt had repeatedly rejected and scorned me. When I met and married a Jewish man, I was not required to convert to his faith, but I did. My upbringing had instilled in me the value of raising children in one faith tradition, and something about this peoplewho had been chased, hunted, all over the earth and yet still believed in Godspoke to me. I respected them. I wanted my children to learn their heritage of resilience in the face of extreme persecution. I wanted them to know the importance of mitzvot (good deeds), tikkun olam (repairing the world in any small way), and to be able to toast lchaim (to life) even in difficult seasons.

So I studied. I forsook all past beliefs, shed the weight of my religious bitterness, and embraced the role of a Jewish mother. I was good at it. In fact, I loved it. Fridays were for kneading soft challah dough in my kitchen, my baby strapped to my back, sleeping against the rhythmic folding. Saturdays were for rest and shul (synagogue), where I recited the Shema (a daily declaration of faith) and felt the power of the ancient prayer that calls all of Israel to set her sights on her Maker: Hear, O Israel: The LORD our God, the LORD is one.

I dutifully and joyfully signed up my oldest for Hebrew camp, decorated Chanukah cookies, dressed with tzniut (modesty), fasted on Yom Kippur, and studied Hebrew. I was content, happy in fact, in my new tribe. When the marriage ended, however, I found myself floating. Suddenly the faith that had bound our family felt like a cruel joke. I spent the next few years spiraling in and out of mental and emotional crises. I still occasionally baked challah, but never felt the same lightness of spirit when I did.

I observed whatever holidays the culture around me deemed important, but I never prayed. Not even liturgical prayers. Did I mention I was living in a new city, a new country, and barely knew a soul? And yet something kept me afloat. I was always aware of a feeling of being seen and loved but didnt know where it came from. Luck? Karma? Nature? I didnt know. A few years later, after having another child in a relationship that ended, I was once again on my own.

Putting my hope in relationships hadnt worked. Putting my faith in every and any religion I could findfrom paganism to multiple religionshad worked for a while but ultimately left me feeling lost. So I decided to go to the Source. I prayed. Wearing jeans and a hoodie, I approached the throne of a God I wasnt even sure existed and asked, Who are you? And he answered. Today, my Friday afternoons are filled with rushing to prepare for Shabbat, my three children giggling and playing as they anticipate their favorite day of the weekthe one with no chores! My mind swirls with all the things I need to do: sweep the floors, make sure the cholent (stew) is going in the slow cooker so we have a warm meal on the one day I dont cook, and have the kids learn the parsha (weekly Bible portion).

My mind is at peace. Not because I feel enveloped in the safety of a community or religion, but because I know him. In my house, we call him Yeshua