A few weeks ago, my wife and I received a letter from everyone’s favorite institution: the credit card company!
It was, of course, filled with the usual pleasantries and how-do-you-dos and concern for my general well-being and—oh no wait, it didn’t do any of those things. It was actually just a terse couple of lines letting me know that they hadn’t received my last monthly payment and could I please hurry up and send that along immediately and oh by the way, my account was technically delinquent so they had taken the liberty of tacking on a few late fees.
Wonderful folks. Great sense of humor. Fantastic at parties, I’m told.
This letter was especially frustrating to receive since we had, in fact, made that monthly payment. We made it the same way we’ve made it for the past few months—through bill pay, because we have no online portal for making payments on this particular credit card. So we tell our bank to send a check every month to our credit card company, and they cash it, and the whole thing takes about a week longer than it would if we could just pay online, but that’s neither here nor there.
The problem, in this instance, was that our check was lost in the mail. The bank sent it out, but it never made it to the credit card company, prompting them to send me a letter looking as if it was written by a robot which had never experienced a single human emotion in its whole dreary existence.
Anyway, while I was playing detective to try and discover how this whole unfortunate situation unfolded, it occurred to me how blessed we are to not have to worry about the same thing when it comes to God.
Think about it. At no point in your life will you have a conversation with God about an unanswered prayer where He says, “Ah, you know what, I totally could have done something about that, but that prayer never made it to Me. I had no idea you were even asking about that.”
David wrote one of my favorite psalms on that same subject. He asked God,
Where can I go from Your Spirit?
Or where can I flee from Your presence?
If I ascend into heaven, You are there;
If I make my bed in hell, behold, You are there.
If I take the wings of the morning,
And dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea,
Even there Your hand shall lead me,
And Your right hand shall hold me.
If I say, “Surely the darkness shall fall on me,”
Even the night shall be light about me;
Indeed, the darkness shall not hide from You,
But the night shines as the day;
The darkness and the light are both alike to You.
The answer to his rhetorical question is, of course, nowhere. There is nowhere you and I can go where God can’t. Our prayers don’t get lost in the mail. We don’t have to worry about network coverage or signal strength—everywhere, at all times, we have access to the ear of the most powerful Being in the universe, and what’s more, He wants to hear from us!
The God of the universe wants to hear from you.
Prayer isn’t an obligation of the Christian life, it’s an opportunity—an opportunity to “come boldly to the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy and find grace to help in time of need” (Hebrews 4:16). An opportunity to be “casting all your care upon Him, for He cares for you” (1 Peter 5:7). An opportunity to “come before His presence with thanksgiving” (Psalm 95:2), not just during this time of the year, but throughout the year.
If you had the ear of a local elected official for ten minutes, what would you ask? If you had the ear of your country’s president or prime minister for five minutes, what would you say? If you could stand before the United Nations and give a one-minute speech about something that matters deeply to you, what subject would you cover?
You don’t have those opportunities, and you probably never will—but you do have the ear of the Maker and Sustainer of the universe, “for whom are all things and by whom are all things” (Hebrews 2:10). What are you talking to Him about? What are you asking for? What conversations are you having with the God who created you and shaped you?
We will never find a location too remote or a time too inconvenient for God to hear what we have to say—but it is possible to waste that opportunity altogether. To squander it—or worse, to never really use it at all.
Are you still reading this? What are you waiting for?
The God of all creation is waiting.
Until next time,