But Even if He Doesn't

I can't sleep.  So I'm writing.  Is there a rule against blogging twice in less than 12 hours?  If so, I'm breaking it.  

Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego.  If you don’t know the story, don’t worry.  I’ll paraphrase:  It’s a Bible story.  Daniel 3.  These three guys were supposed to bow down to a golden statue that King Nebuchadnezzar (whew! and I thought learning to write “Mackenzie” was hard…) had built and worship his gods.  They wouldn’t, so King Neb ordered for them to be thrown into a fiery furnace.  They said, “Ok, our God can save us, go ahead.  But even if he doesn’t we still won’t bow down to your statue or worship your gods.”  Don’t worry, It’s a warm and fuzzy ending: they come out of the furnace alive, unharmed, and God is glorified.  How cool is that?  It’s a story I grew up learning about in Sunday school.  I was even in a church play about it when I was younger…and by “in the play” I mean I was one of the flames in the furnace- and I totally rocked it, by the way. (yeah, I’m better at writing than I am at acting)

But this phrase… “even if he doesn’t”…I don't remember them focusing on that.  They taught about the ending, how God pulled through and the guys survived.  But to me, that phrase is the core of what it means to have faith.  It’s something I never focused on when I would read that story, but now it’s the only thing I can see when I read it.  It’s the most important part to me.  Not that they survived, but that they were still all in no matter what, even if they didn’t.  Isn’t that what having faith means?  That no matter what, you’re still going to choose Jesus?  That isn’t warm and fuzzy.  It isn’t easy.  That’s scary.  That’s ballsy.  Let’s be honest, I don’t want to walk through a fiery furnace.  Sometimes the ballsiest I get is talking about God for 2 minutes in front of my co-workers or friends…at room temperature.   

This Sunday my pastor spoke about prayer.  I haven’t stopped thinking about it.  It was great.  I took notes.  I wrote down a lot of things about how prayer is expecting God to do the things we ask for, that we are given authority and power and we should ask Him, expecting Him to do it.  We should pray big prayers, come boldly before Him.  But there was this phrase resonating in the back of my mind.  But what if He doesn’t?   

Growing up, I prayed a lot, but I wasn’t good at specific prayers.  I felt selfish, asking something so specifically.  I was scared of how I would react if I prayed specifically and it didn’t happen, like I didn’t want to feel disappointed by God so I didn’t even ask.  Plus, the only time I would pray specifically was if it were for something I really wanted-selfishly wanted-like healing my aunt and grandma of cancer or giving me an A on that test (which I realize those two things probably shouldn’t even be in the same sentence because they aren’t anywhere close to being of the same importance, it’s just an example).  A part of me also felt weird, like how am I supposed to ask/tell God what to do?  My prayers usually went something like, “God, if it’s your will, can you let ________ happen, or not happen.  Whichever you want, I’m good with it.”  Which mostly was a lie.  I knew exactly how I wanted those situations to play out.  I was only fooling myself with those little, shallow prayers. 

There was one time though that I did pray so specifically, so fervently for something, and it didn’t happen.  I prayed for Spencer to come home, that he would be safe.  Every day.  Every time he crossed my mind.  And I believed it would happen.  There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that God could protect him.   I wasn’t worried about it, regardless of the crashes or close calls Spencer would tell me about.  I mean, I was a little nervous yeah, but I just knew he’d be fine.  He would come home.  SO many people were praying for him.  He’d be fine.  He had to be fine.  

And then he was killed in Afghanistan, on my birthday, August 6.  And I lost it. 

I stopped praying regularly.  I hardly prayed at all.  I buried prayer when we buried Spencer on that Thursday in August.  I felt hopeless and angry.  The only times I would every rarely pray were when I was desperate and exhausted:  When I didn’t know what else to do.  When I just wanted to sleep, damn it.  When I was about to walk out the door for that date and had to take off his dog tags and leave them at home.  When I would log onto Facebook and wanted him to have sent me a message saying it was a misunderstanding, and that he was alive.  When I would think of his family and other friends.  

Don’t get me wrong, I still whole-heartedly believed in God, I just didn’t want to talk to him. 

But I started praying again.  Recently, actually.  And this time it’s different.  I pray big, specific prayers with the confidence in my heart and mind that

even

 if

 He doesn’t

that I will still believe He is good.  He is faithful.  That somehow Jesus still wins. That there is a reason. 

Because He didn’t, but here I am.  It took me awhile, and a few bad coping mechanisms later.  But I’m praying.  And I still love Jesus.  It’s a choice I make every day, but I choose it.  I choose Jesus. 

If your prayer(s) don’t get answered, if He didn’t or doesn’t, I wish I could tell you that it’s super easy, and warm and fuzzy, and fits in a pretty little box full of easy answers.  It’s not.  It doesn’t.  But when you choose Jesus you choose Him no matter what, and it’s worth it. 

For her to learn to love herself.  For his family to reconcile and be whole again.  For her husband to come home from deployment.  For my relationship with him to be better.  For the bitterness to go away.  For the forgiveness I need to find.  For the man that I will marry someday.  For me to somehow make a difference in this world, big or small.  For their marriage to be fulfilling and whole.  For her cancer to go away.  For him to allow himself to grieve.  For her to not feel lonely.  For his big dreams to come true.  For her addictions to be defeated.

These are some of the big prayers that I pray.  And I believe He can make them happen. 

But even if He doesn’t…