Recently, I was watching the movie "Evan Almighty," starring Steve Carell as a Washington politician who is called by God to build an ark. At the end of the movie, Evan is standing in a field near a tree talking to God, played by Morgan Freeman. The exact context of the conversation eludes me now, but I was particularly struck by something "God" said. He said (and I’m paraphrasing), "If someone prays for courage, do you think I suddenly endow him with incredible bravery? No, I give him an opportunity to be courageous. If you pray for a closer relationship with your wife, do you think I wave a magic wand that instantly fills you with passion? No, I give you an opportunity to love."
It makes you think, doesn’t it? Oftentimes when we pray, we have a specific problem or issue we’re worried about and we’re seeking a quick and finite answer. We wait impatiently for the miraculous to happen, for God’s extended arm to descend from heaven, literally nudging us in the direction He wants us to go. Even if the answer was not what we hoped for or expected, it would be nice if prayers were answered in such a clear and obvious way. But while we’re waiting for God’s answer to our prayers, we often ignore the pulse of life around us – which is where God lives, breathes, and speaks to us.
For several years, I worked as a crisis counselor for rape and abuse victims, traveling to hospital ERs to support many women, a few men, and lots of teenagers through the painful process of being examined for evidence, treated for injury, and interviewed for the criminal justice process. After about four years of this, I was feeling a little burned out and I prayed to God for guidance. He had called me to this work in the first place, so I felt I needed His permission to even consider leaving. Weeks went by with no obvious answer and I was growing restless.
Then, I was called to the hospital to speak with a young woman who had been victimized. She was convinced that the crime she had suffered was punishment from God for being rebellious, and that she was going to go to hell. From talking further with her, I discovered she believed in Christ and always had. I told her, "I’ve got good news for you – you can’t go to hell. Jesus won’t let you. He loves you too much." She sobbed in my arms for the next hour, broken and bruised, but reassured in the truth of her faith. In eight years, through 600 cases, this was the one and only time a victim chose to discuss his/her faith with me. God was talking. I worked four more years.
Late last year, I gave up my career as a crisis counselor and accepted a completely different job as a grant-writer, a decision fraught with much angst and prayer. Although I felt relieved to leave behind such an emotionally demanding job and to utilize my writing skills more, I still craved God’s input on my decision. Did He understand why I needed to leave? Was He disappointed that I had abandoned the work He had called me to do? Recently, a man who had been indirectly associated with my former workplace emailed me to ask if I’d be willing to help him grow a ministry he had established. The ministry provides support to those who’ve been abused. Among the services I will eventually provide is helping victims to verbalize their emotions, and to tell their stories of hope and recovery - in writing.
Indeed, the answer to prayer often lies in the opportunities God places in our paths, if we are willing to be still and pay attention.
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