Think about the last big prayer God answered for you.
Depending on the recency of the answer, you might still be in somewhat of a honeymoon phase; deliriously happy and effortlessly basking in His grace.
But after the dust settles and the novelty wears off, most of us will find ourselves realizing that whatever it is we wanted, and whatever it is God gave us costs something.
I know this example will sound silly to most people, but bear with me.
I’ve been frustrated for a long time with social media. For years, my account was stagnant. And it wasn’t that I was desperate to be an influencer or for any of the perks that come with it, but that I wanted to share my ideas with the world.
There are few things I can confidently say I was put here to do, but writing has always been one of them.
I published the first post on this blog over 10 years ago, and I felt like I had nothing to show for it. Of course, there were things I did wrong. I struggled with consistency for a long time. I never really learned how to market or pitch myself. And I was awful at implementing tools like newsletters and Substack.
But I guess a(n admittedly naive) part of me thought that imperfect but earnest effort would eventually succeed.
I wasn’t chasing shock value for its own sake, I wasn’t trying to become important, I wasn’t writing to leverage a career at some massive media organization. I felt like I was pouring my heart into articulating things that needed to be said, but no one was saying for me. And I just wanted people to read them.
I’m taking the time to explain this in detail, because I want to make it as clear as possible that this wasn’t a vague or shallow goal but something existential for me.
Of course, I won’t misrepresent myself as some paragon of virtue, immune to the allure of Mar-a-Lago invites and events that everyone shows up to in black SUVs. I enjoy recognition and proximity to power as much as the next person, but they were never what drove me.
I just didn’t want to feel like I was writing into the void.
I didn’t want to feel like over a decade of labor never mattered, and never would.
I actually remember crying to God about it with tears running down my face. And I kid you not; without warning, the very next day, my Instagram account began compounding in a way it never had.
That was months ago, and it hasn’t really stopped since.
I know that in the grand scheme of things, the number of followers I’ve accumulated isn’t particularly impressive. I know I haven’t “made it” by any stretch of the imagination. But after years of feeling invisible I would be lying if I said it didn’t mean something to me.
It’s exciting to see my blog getting fresh eyes on it, to see people I respect and admire interested in what I have to say, and to feel validation as a creative that I haven’t felt in years.
But like every other blessing, it came with its own set of challenges.
It came with a constant pressure about the next viral post and a fear of momentum vanishing as quickly as it had come. It came with thousands of belligerent, antagonistic comments and DMs tempting me to abandon the restraint I’m commanded to as a Christian. And it required constant attention that I frankly would have rather spent elsewhere.
I think as human beings, we have a tendency to fixate on our desires, and convince ourselves that if God would just give us what we want, our problems will be magically resolved.
To an extent, we want to believe an answered prayer means the end of any kind of struggle or hardship.
“If God would just give me the job…”
“If God would just give me the spouse…”
“If God would just give me the opportunity…” then we’d be happy.
I don’t even think we do it on purpose.
But the problem with conditional contentment is that nothing on this side of life will ever be perfect in a world that will never be home.
Even if God were to give you everything you’ve asked for, you wouldn’t be immune to trials.
I begged God for a creative breakthrough and He gave it to me, but not without pushing my limits and a neverending fight against my flesh. I begged God for my house, and He gave it to me. Then property taxes increased my mortgage nearly 30%. I begged God for a job, and He gave it to me. Then my company hit a financial rough patch and we lost bonuses I was counting on.
The only satisfaction that lasts is in our Savior and our Savior alone.
When our joy and purpose are vested in Him, life’s aggravating, unpredictable and unfair nature becomes much easier to withstand.
One of the most impactful quotes on my faith came from watching Father Stu, when Mark Wahlberg says we shouldn’t ask God for easy lives, but the strength to endure difficult lives.
Initially, I think I interpreted it as though we were supposed to want difficulty; like we were supposed to look at people with seemingly easy, comfortable lives and run in the other direction. But the more I’ve considered it, I understand it as a statement of fact; I don’t think there’s such a thing as an easy life despite our illusion.
I think about one of the early Real Housewives, who was struggling as an assistant at an insurance firm and had a whirlwind fairytale romance with an absurdly rich husband, and is still married nearly 20 years later. The same woman had to bury her own son when he was 35 years old after he overdosed on fentanyl.
That’s not to say that his premature death was at all related to her marriage, but that none of us are immune to heartbreak or tragedy.
Our lives aren’t difficult by design but by default; God gave us free will, so we all eventually pay dearly.
Until heaven, every favor from our Father will come with fine print. Every rose will come with thorns and every light will cast a shadow.
But we should try to embrace the burdens that accompany our blessings because they’re evidence of a God that’s listening, that loves us, and that’s constantly throwing lifelines we don’t deserve, even if they’re easily tangled.
what do you think?