"Please."

The truth: Sometimes my prayers can be distilled into one word.

“Please.”

Over the past few weeks I’ve talked about following the acronym ACTS when praying. Adoration. Confession. Thanksgiving.

Now it’s time for the last letter. Supplication.

Using the word “supplication” makes the acronym work, plus it sounds so grand, so noble, even pure. Much better than “wanting.” And worlds apart from “whining.” I occasionally hear an edge in my inner voice as I pray, like the drawn-out wail of a spoiled child.

I don’t want to begin on the wrong foot here. I am not saying that it’s bad to ask God for help. Far from it. Spend a few minutes with the Psalms and you’ll come across David’s pleas for deliverance:

I come to you for protection, O LORD my God. Save me from my persecutors—rescue me! Psalm 7:1

Keep me safe, O God, for I have come to you for refuge. Psalm 16:1

Have mercy on me, O God, have mercy! I look to you for protection. I will hide beneath the shadow of your wings until the danger passes by. Psalm 57:1

Of greater significance is the fact that Jesus, “the champion who initiates and perfects our faith” (Hebrews 12:2), said the following:

“Keep on asking, and you will receive what you ask for. Keep on seeking, and you will find. Keep on knocking, and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks, receives. Everyone who seeks, finds. And to everyone who knocks, the door will be opened.

You parents—if your children ask for a loaf of bread, do you give them a stone instead? Or if they ask for a fish, do you give them a snake? Of course not! So if you sinful people know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your heavenly Father give good gifts to those who ask him. Matthew 7:7-11

I run into trouble with supplication on two fronts. First, I have a tendency to rush from “Dear God” to “Please fix-provide-do.” I become a taker, interested in reward, not relationship. At such times I approach the Almighty with a “What have You done for me lately?” attitude. If a friend or family member treated me that way I’d feel used. And yet I seem to think God is okay with it.

Heaven help me. Truly.

The other issue that has confounded me is this: God doesn’t always answer prayers the way I think He should. Is my arrogance surprising? Or is it familiar to you?

My mother-in-law cared for my father-in-law through eight years of decline. After he passed away, we hoped she would eventually find joy again. She loved to travel and we assumed she’d hit the road (or skies) once more.

Then, months after the funeral, she was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. The disease tore her apart as surely as any lion, and she died 16 months after her husband.

Her family, her friends, her church congregation—all of us prayed that she would get well.

But God said “No.”

Yes, she received ultimate healing. I’m confident that she traveled directly from her pain-wracked body into the arms of her Savior. The best of all journeys.

But we were still left here without her. Her absence, as well as the absences of our other parents, has been be felt at the celebration of every milestone.

Jesus tells us to seek and find, ask and receive. And God keeps His promises, right? So what’s going on when the asking doesn’t lead to receiving?

It is a mystery.

Because I am not God.

I believe that God always says “Yes,” to pleas for a closer walk with Him—for more wisdom, more lovingkindness, more Christ-like behavior. I believe that often He says “No,” to a heartfelt request because He has something even better in mind for us. And I believe that He may respond with a “Not yet.”

I also believe that we may never know why bad things happen to good people. Why thousands of people have died from the novel coronavirus. Or even one.

Because I am not God.

I do not know what He knows. I cannot see what He sees. And I cannot love as He loves.

I can rage against this lack of knowledge. I can shake my fist at the Father and demand a revelation. But where will that leave me?

Still unknowing. And desperately alone, for I will have closed my heart to the only One who can mend my broken places and fill my empty spaces.

So I accept that I am not He. I rest in the truth of His goodness, and trust that one day there will be no more questions. No more pleas for deliverance or comfort.

Because I will be home at last.

Scripture quotations are taken from the Holy Bible, New Living Translation, copyright 1996, 2004. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Wheaton, Illinois 60189. All rights reserved.