(This ended up becoming a series. Here’s Part 2 and Part 3.)
I have no guarantee that God will grant my prayers.
Disruptive statement, no?
This is not me fishing for reassurance in your comments, by the way. I’m trying to speak honestly about a stark reality. Except for a handful of explicit promises in Scripture (salvation, peace, heaven, etc.), there’s no guarantee that God will grant any prayer of mine. Like the missions opportunity I’m currently examining, or the kidney healing for a friend.
First, to be perfectly frank, my very audience before him is an undeserved gift.
Second, it’s hard to know whether certain prayers – for myself or others – are optimal for the person being prayed for. That can be a huge hangup to prayer confidence. Why invest months or years of heartfelt prayer in something when you don’t yet know God wants it?
Third, I know my theology of suffering too well. Christianity is a call to come and die. If you think it’s about getting your dreams actualized, you’ve got another thing coming. Even Jesus didn’t get all his prayers answered – and there was glory in that (Matt. 26:39). Dare we think that a servant is greater than that Master?
Finally, Scripture gives us every reason to think that God might deny our prayers for our spiritual benefit (2 Cor. 12:9). I wholeheartedly believe that he leaves to each of us at least one lingering heartache, a thorn, a cross to carry all of our days without resolution (do you not have yours?) so we’ll remember that this isn’t our home. Denied prayers transform us; they provide opportunities to allow God to become our all; they lift our gaze to heaven. There is no greater treasure. So why would God grant a lesser one by answering my prayer?
You might begin to suspect that I have an overthinking problem.

More snow?
The Neurotic Self-examination Department sent me a memo today: I haven’t been very personal on my blog lately.
There is a rhythm to our repentance and God’s grace.
It’s funny – in reading your comments, I’ve seen many of you looking forward to this part of Luke 15 as much as I. We know it by heart. Reaching verse 20 is like arriving at your favorite line in The Empire Strikes Back or hitting that favorite song in your old Newsboys album. But better. Chills of delight. (And I’m talking the Newsboys good ol’ days – Entertaining Angels at the
I have a confession to make: there have been times I’ve doubted the Prodigal’s motives when reading this piece.
Thanks for the prayers, everyone. I’m back from my mini-vacation. Let me tell you – I love my home, but central Colorado is some spectacular driving. Also, I may or may not have filled my car up with gas one time and then gotten back in the car to find it still running.