He is Enough

Prayer was hard for me after my dad died. I was only in my second year out of seminary, in my first full-time ministry position, and living in New Zealand on the other side of the world from my family. A lot of things were already hard; Dad's sudden accidental death made all of them much harder.

I didn’t think prayer would be so difficult, though. People would ask me to pray for them, and I would, but I wondered how much good it was doing. To myself, I thought, “He didn’t protect Dad, why would he answer these prayers? Worse, what would it mean if he answered these prayers and didn’t answer the ones about my dad?” I remember sitting down in my office and thinking that I ought to spend some time in prayer, that I needed God in that moment. But when I closed my eyes I found that I didn’t have the energy or the will for the conversation.

When I did pray, especially in the days just after Dad’s death, it was with anger and demands. I let God know that I wasn’t happy, but there are only so many ways you can say that. So, mostly I let God know what I wanted him to do for me. “You have allowed this to happen, so you better take care of Mom. God, I went back to my church on the other side of the world and left Mom alone because you have not released me from my call, so you better make it worthwhile. If I am faithful to you, even now, then I better start seeing some results in my ministry.” They all boiled down to the same question, really: “How are you going to make this up to me? You owe me, so what do you have for me now?”

Of course, God doesn’t owe us anything, and it felt as though my prayers fell on deaf ears. My ministry was still hard, with little tangible fruit. My family back in America still suffered, with no sense of soaring on wings like eagles or any other kind of relief or comfort. And so eventually I stopped praying, mostly. The conversation was too difficult and too repetitive. God knew what I needed, or at least what I was going to ask, and I knew that he wasn’t going to suddenly fix this. What else was there to say?

The weeks lengthened into more than two years. Not that long, really, but it has seemed like an eternity. And I began to notice something odd: I missed him. It was a realization that I felt long before I put it into words. It grew slowly, a pressure building inside, until a thought reached the surface: “When was the last time I really connected with God? When last did I reach out with my mind, my soul, and feel him there, regarding me with love?” I had a hard time coming up with the answer. How could I be with him, connect with him, when I hardly even tried anymore?

So, I try; I pray. He is there, but it is still awkward. He never answered my question. And then, I think I hear him say, “What do I have for you now, Logan? Me. I will give you me. It is not what you asked for, but I still love you, and that is enough.”

I have come to him in prayer looking for many things, have not found them, and I have been disappointed. What I do find in prayer now is him, only him. Does that change anything? He is enough.