WHY DOESN’T GOD GIVE ME WHAT I WANT?

Thursday after the Fourth Sunday in Lent

I was an atheist for about 45 minutes. I was eleven years old at the time (most people, I know, usually free themselves from the shackles of religion when they're sophomores in college, but I was a precocious Unbeliever); I had a friend named Kevin. His parents were atheists and had raised him in their faith.

One bright spring afternoon several of us were riding our bicycles and stopped in a field. The Texas sky, puffed with high clouds, stretched above us to the horizons; the field was green and yellow with flowers and tall grass; it was a day not too far removed from the First Day. One of my companions said to Kevin, “I don’t know how anybody can not believe in God when it’s like this.” It wasn’t a profound theological argument, but for eleven year-olds it wasn't bad.

“There isn’t a God,” Kevin said dogmatically. “No such thing.”

Even though we all knew Kevin was an atheist, to my knowledge, none of us had ever heard him actually assert his creed. His words shocked us into silence. Sensing our discombobulation, Kevin continued. “You want me to prove it?”

“Can you?” I remember asking hesitantly.

Standing astride his bike, Kevin looked up at the sky. “If there’s a God, strike me dead right now. I dare you!”

Our eyes went wide. We waited for Jehovah to reduce this young blasphemer to a pile of ashes. I think I really expected something like that to happen.

It didn’t. After waiting dramatically for a minute, Kevin smiled self-assuredly at us credulous yokels. “See? God didn’t kill me ‘cause He doesn’t exist.”

I was pretty disappointed in God. We all were. He had let us down. We felt like fools.

Our little band broke up and I rode home in profound and disturbed silence. Was he right? What if God didn’t exist? What about my grandfather and the other members of my family who were supposed to be with Him? If God didn’t exist, we’d been wasting our time going to Mass. If God didn’t exist, were there any Rules (the Big Ten) anymore? If He wasn’t real, could I do whatever I wanted?

By the time I got home, I’d pretty much decided I’d be sleeping in the next Sunday morning.

My grandmother was in the kitchen when I came in the back door. “Grammother,” I announced, “God isn’t real and I’m an atheist.”

She put down whatever it was she had in her hands, came over to me and slapped my face. “You are not an atheist,” she said, “you’re an Episcopalian. How did you come up with such a stupid idea?”

Tears welled in my eyes and I told her what happened—or what DIDN’T happen—to Kevin in the field.

My cheek still stung, but she hugged me into her bosom and laughed. “Don’t you think the Lord has better things to do than listen to a bunch of silly kids? Can you imagine what sort of strange world we’d live in if He answered prayers like wishes? I wouldn’t want to live in a world where the Lord did what you and your friends wanted. Sit down and have some pie.”

I don’t know whether it was the slap, the pie or her words (maybe it was everything combined), but my Atheist Phase passed before I got up from the table.

In the Mass appointed for today, Jesus talks to His disciples about prayer. “I say unto you: Ask and it will be given you; seek and you shall find; knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives; he who seeks finds; and to him who knocks, the door will be opened.”

The problem is, Jesus’ words don’t match our experience. Kevin was left alive—I hope he still is. He asked God—dared Him—is that the same?—to kill him. I’ve asked God time and again to hear and grant my prayers—“Let JoAnne live. Help Arthur find a job this week. Please allow Tim to walk again.” How many times have you and I placed ourselves or others at the foot of God’s throne and had no answer? “Ask and it will be given you. Seek and you shall find.” He didn’t say “sometimes” or “if you’re good enough” you’ll find if you seek: Jesus’ words are without condition. Was Kevin right after all?

My grandmother, it turns out, wasn’t a bad theologian. God isn’t our Stepin Fetchit, Who we can order around by using the magic words of prayer. I’ve remembered her words ever since. Imagine a world governed by the prayers of pre-teens! It’s too terrifying to contemplate for long.

Jesus isn't saying that God wants to play the Genie to our Aladdin, but that prayer is an on-going process—prayer is at the heart of our relationship with God. Ask, seek, knock—pursue God, pester Him by all means. Let Him know what you want, what matters to you, how important your concerns are. When you do that, you're spending time with Him. When that happens, even if our requests are selfish, Things Happen. Not miraculous things (usually), but things. We discover that prayer is more than just asking. It’s conversing. In truthful, frank prayer, we tell God what’s important to us. Eventually we get beyond the lottery tickets. We go beyond our backaches and even the backaches of those we love. Every now and then, we find that our prayer has transcended us and all our fears—and even our hopes. Sometimes, we lift our hearts and minds to God—and He Is There.

When that happens, for those rare moments, we find the answer to all our askings and seekings and knockings. When God shares Himself with us, everything else falls into place. The problems don’t go away and we won’t be left with Winning Numbers like the inside of a fortune cookie, but before we were blind and now we see. JoAnne and Arthur and Tim and even Kevin are in God’s Heart—where they’ve always been. You are there; so am I.

Ask—but be prepared to stick around for the answer. It’ll knock your socks off.