Maybe He Didn’t Hear My Prayer

There was one thing I wanted from God. It was virtuous. It was honorable. It was good.

So I prayed. And I asked. And I exhorted.

And nothing happened.

Maybe He didn’t hear my prayer.

Maybe He didn’t care.

The prayer was for a miracle, for a change of heart and direction. We’re told that with “the faith of a mustard seed,” we can move mountains. I believed. But it didn’t happen. The Prodigal’s path continued and I there I stood at the door, hat in hand, the hollow knock still ringing in the air.

And then I began to examine myself. Was it because I was flawed? Was it because I didn’t have enough faith, or understanding? Was it because I had been disobedient? Was I selfish in my request? Maybe it was me?

At first, I was angry. I was angry at others, because they didn’t help. I was angry at the counsel of fools. I was angry at God, feeling ripped off. After all, I had been taught that “prayers offered in faith” will result in miracles. Finally, I was angry at myself. What a fool I had been to even bother to ask.

Then, as the soothing waters cooled the situation, I began to breathe, think, and remember. He has answered my prayers in the past. He’s been faithful. Through the unanswered prayer for a miracle, I learned about what made me tick, my weakness and strength. I grew. Eventually I learned that in this case, my prayer was all wrong. Instead of praying for others to change, I was the one who needed a miraculous change.

Maybe He heard me after all.

Care to comment?

Linking up with Faith Barista in conversations in faith. See the other posts here.