the blessing of unsanswered prayer

I hate unanswered prayer. This is not just because I want what I pray for—although that would be nice!—but because my unbelieving heart takes unanswered prayer as an opportunity to doubt God. Here are some examples:

I pray for my son's only close friend, whom we've lost contact with, to call. He doesn't.

I pray that I'll be able to find my car keys so I can get the kids to school on time. They're late.

I pray that my husband will get over his illness; after all, he needs to teach the Bible and care for our family. He stays sick.

I pray that my excited, expectant three-year-old will see a kangaroo on the way home. There's no wildlife to be seen.

I pray that my mood will lift. I stay discouraged.

These are all trivial prayers, and I could give you much bigger examples. But, oddly, I find it easier to trust God with the bigger things. It's the small prayers that trip me up.

When they remain unanswered, my internal monologue begins ...

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