Several weeks ago I woke up in the middle of the night with this question, “Had there ever been a time when I was absolutely sure that God had answered my prayer?” It was a strange experience because, while I am a vivid dreamer and often wake up with strong emotions about a dream I have just had, I couldn’t remember having had a dream. It was just this clearly articulated question in my mind, “Had there ever been a time when I was absolutely sure that God had answered my prayer?”
An answer also came to me almost immediately. No, I couldn’t come up with a single time that I was completely certain that God had specifically answered a particular prayer. I have thought about it in the days and weeks since that night and I still haven’t been able to come up with an example of God answering my prayer so clearly that I was absolutely sure that there was no other explanation for what had happened.
While waking up with such a specific question on my mind and discovering that it had such an unexpected answer—I have long been a person who believes that God hears and answers prayers— was so unusual, the subject of the question was a familiar one. Since the beginning of my recent deep dive into my religious beliefs, I have given serious time and contemplation to similar questions. Why do people stand up in testimony meeting and bear witness with so much certainty that God had led them to their lost keys, while others—even some who had received powerful priesthood blessings—die young and tragically despite their faith and prayers? Why does God seem so active in some situations, or in some people’s lives, and then seem so distant in others? Why do the men that I believe are prophets seem incredibly clear about God’s will on some points and so unclear on others? Does God actually get involved in the minuscule and inconsequential details of some of our lives and then fail to intervene to stop horrific tragedies?
Several months ago, during a somewhat cynical period in my life, I had more or less concluded that this life is just a test and God mostly leaves us on our own to struggle with our problems and deal with our challenges. After all, if God answered every little prayer would we even need faith? I became skeptical of those “lost keys” stories and wondered if it was more likely that when someone pauses their frantic search long enough to pray, it just relaxes their minds and helps them think or remember more clearly so they can solve their own problems. I mean really, does it seem logical that the God of the Universe can’t find something better to do than finding the lost keys of careless humans?
It was during this time that I had an unusually rough day. I was tending three little grandson’s, all age four and under, and I had invited another daughter-in-law and her children, also three little boys four and under, to come over and play. This had been a regular occurrence and something I enjoyed, but on this particular day things had been wild and I was exhausted and near the end of my rope by the time we wrapped up the playdate. The house was messy and the boys were grumpy and tired. The oldest was complaining that he had a headache and was almost begging for “quiet time”. The middle boy just wanted to settle down on the couch with his “sippy and blanket”, but the most pressing need was making a bottle for the screaming baby. Unfortunately, I couldn’t find the only bottle he had come with anywhere. We scoured the house for it without any success and I finally resigned myself to putting everyone’s shoes and jackets on and heading to the store to buy a new one.
At that moment I had the impression to pray. I stopped, bowed my head and offered a brief but passionate plea. The instant I lifted my head, I remembered that the baby had been in the pantry earlier that day. I went to the pantry and immediately found the bottle behind some boxes. I said a quick prayer of thanks and I swear I heard a voice in my head that said, “I will decide when and how to answer prayers”.
That little experience had a profound effect on my attitude. I believe that God answered my simple, but rather desperate, appeal for a missing bottle. I also believe that it may have been God’s way of reprimanding me for my arrogance and lack of faith. But these are only beliefs, and I can generate a fairly long list of similar experiences, in which I feel confident that the Lord answered my prayers, but they could also be explained away as coincidences or personal insight. These occurrences are great, but these familiar moments are not the stuff my testimony is made of.
What became clear that night when I woke up with the burning question is that the experiences that have made me certain weren’t answers to my prayers; they were times when I was led to help someone else. There have been a small handful of times when an impression has come to me with such force that I felt compelled to do something so illogical and out of character that I know it wasn’t just me. These were promptings that I initially fought because I was afraid of being awkward, offending someone, seriously messing something up or being embarrassed. But these are the very promptings that when followed actually changed or even saved lives. I wish I could say that these are frequent events. Maybe if I was better at listening to the spirit they would be. Maybe I would be more able to bless lives if I wasn’t so hesitant or worried about what others think.
No, these experiences have been rare, but they are the reason I know deep in my soul that there is a God who loves us, is involved in our lives, and answers prayers—though not always in a way that makes sense to mere humans like me. For many years I have expressed my frustration with what we in the Mormon Church refer to as “the still, small voice” and wished instead that God would send me the clearly printed word. I find that personal revelation is often just vague impressions, thoughts that are hard to separate from my own opinions and desires. Still, I can’t deny those few times when God led me to do something I didn’t want to do, and in the process showed me how much love He has for one of His children.
I can tell you the bottle story, and if you don’t believe me or say snarky things about me or my experience, I’ll get over it. But I can’t share those rare stories, the ones that have given me so much certainty, not with anyone who hasn’t earned my trust or who doesn’t know me well enough or value my judgment. They are too personal and sacred to expose to ridicule, but they are at the very core of my faith. They are the experiences I can’t deny because I know they were real and I know God knows that I know.
You don’t have to believe me, but I hope you will because there is a deep peace that comes from the knowledge that there is a God, who loves each of us and wants to work in our lives.
