In a world full of belief systems, traditions, and doctrines, it’s easy to feel boxed in. Especially when you’re someone who believes in something higher, but not necessarily in the traditional, packaged version of God. So what happens when you’re asked to pray in a way you don’t believe, by someone who does? Is it rebellious to say no? Or is it a form of spiritual clarity?
Recently, I had a moment that made me sit with this question. A loved one texted me: “Please pray for me like when you first met me. I know you don’t believe in God, but He loves you.” It was clearly important to them. But here’s the truth, I don’t believe in the Bible the way they do. I don’t believe in the cross, or all the stories. I do believe in a higher power, but I also believe we got a lot of things wrong. And most of all, I believe it’s enough to admit that we don’t have all the answers.
So instead of praying the way they wanted, I sent out thoughts to the universe. And that wasn’t me being petty. That was me being real. Because when someone asks you to step into their belief system, but won’t meet you halfway in yours, that’s not a conversation. That’s a performance.
Spirituality Isn’t Rebellion—It’s Integrity
Here’s the thing: choosing not to pray in a certain way, especially on a holiday like Easter, doesn’t mean you’re turning your back on something sacred. It means you’re standing in your truth. It means you’re showing love and care in the language you believe in.
Sending out thoughts to the universe is a form of prayer. Just because it doesn’t involve a church pew or a Bible verse doesn’t make it any less valid. You’re not rejecting connection, you’re rejecting the idea that there’s only one right way to do it. That kind of spiritual gatekeeping doesn’t make you closer to God, it just makes you close-minded.
What they call rebellion is often just you refusing to play a part in someone else’s spiritual theater. You’re not flipping tables. You’re just not sitting at them anymore.
People Use Prayer to Feel in Control—And That’s Okay
Let’s be real: prayer, for many people, is a way to feel like we’re in control of something, even indirectly. When life feels chaotic, when tragedy hits, when we’re helpless, prayer becomes a ritual of hope. It gives people the illusion of a steering wheel when the car is skidding on ice.
And that’s not a bad thing. It’s human. It’s survival. But sometimes, the outcomes don’t change. The people we love still pass away. The pain still happens. The miracle doesn’t come. And when that happens, people double down instead of asking questions.
So no, I don’t believe prayer changes everything. But I do believe that intention has power. And whether you call it prayer, energy, thoughts, vibrations, or universal love, what matters is that it’s real to you. That you’re not just going through motions hoping for a reward. That you’re not bargaining with the sky, you’re connecting to something bigger than your ego.
Certainty Without Room for Pain Isn’t Faith—It’s Denial
People often throw around phrases like, “God has a plan,” or “Just believe and it will happen.” But when someone’s been through loss, when they’ve buried people they loved, when they’ve watched good people suffer, that kind of certainty can feel hollow.
It can feel like a slap in the face wrapped in scripture.
You’re not rejecting faith when you push back on that. You’re rejecting a version of belief that doesn’t leave room for contradictions, for grief, for complexity. And that’s not rebellion. That’s wisdom. That’s experience talking. That’s battle-tested belief, not the kind you inherit, but the kind you earn by crawling through hell and still choosing to believe in something.
And sometimes, when you try to talk about that complexity, people pull out the tired phrase: “That’s apples to oranges.” Like it’s a shield. I used to get really peeved when people would say something was apples to oranges when it really wasn’t, they just didn’t want to make the connection. Not everything is apples to oranges. Sometimes it’s the same fruit, just cut different.
I once had a conversation about belief systems and grief. Someone was talking about how a person might believe their loved one’s spirit can’t rest until their missing body part is found, and they called that crazy. But I said, “You believe in the Bible, right?” And suddenly, they hit me with “That’s apples to oranges.” But it’s not. It’s just a matter of perspective, if you’re willing to look at it.
Too often, people toss that phrase out as a way to avoid facing uncomfortable logic. Not because they’ve thought deeply, but because they won’t. And that refusal to explore connections is exactly what keeps us boxed into belief systems that don’t hold up when grief comes knocking.
Not Knowing Can Be Holy Too
My personal belief is in a higher power, but I’m also wise enough to admit we can’t say for certain what that higher power is. I even hesitate to say I know there is one, because knowing is backed by evidence and facts. That’s where belief gets confused. People act like belief and knowledge are the same thing, and they’re not.
But I do believe, almost enough to say I know. The world itself is evidence of something greater, and maybe that’s as far as the argument can really go. When people start fighting about whose god is the true god, that’s where I check out. I can’t stand the specifics, because the specifics have been weaponized to divide, control, and dehumanize for thousands of years.
Believe it or not, Christianity isn’t even the oldest religion, yet we act like it is. Like it’s always been the default. I grew up in a traditional Christian household, strict, rule-bound, contradiction-packed. The usual. Most people were going to hell. Can’t do this. Don’t do that. Meanwhile, sin crept through every corner of the house. And honestly, I’ve noticed that in many overly religious homes, the louder the judgment, the deeper the secrets.
Maybe it’s rebellious to say that. Or maybe it’s just the truth I’ve observed. But at the end of the day, my belief is in a higher power full of love and wisdom, not walking contradictions, jealousy, or hate. Because how can a truly loving being hate a human for loving someone else, just because they share the same sex? That’s just one example of how man’s interpretation has twisted something divine into something divisive.
You Can Care Without Conforming
When my loved one asked me to pray, I didn’t ignore her. I didn’t shame her beliefs. I just responded in the way that felt true to me. I sent thoughts, I sent care, I sent energy. And when she didn’t call like she said she would, I didn’t hold it against her. But I also didn’t pretend to be someone I’m not.
That’s not cold. That’s authenticity with boundaries.
Because love without boundaries turns into resentment. And spiritual compliance without conviction turns into self-abandonment. If someone can’t see your care because it’s not wrapped in their spiritual language, that’s about their limits, not yours.
Final Thoughts: Faith Isn’t One-Size-Fits-All
Whether you’re spiritual, religious, agnostic, or just figuring it out, your path is your own. Don’t let anyone guilt you into thinking that honoring your truth is rebellion. It’s not. It’s spiritual clarity. And clarity, especially in a noisy world, is a gift.
So send your thoughts. Light your candles. Sit in silence. Speak to the sky. Write to the stars. Whatever your ritual is, if it’s honest, it’s holy.
The Broke College Student 
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