Ask, and it will be given you; search, and you will find; knock, and the door will be opened for you. For everyone who asks receives, and everyone who searches finds, and for everyone who knocks, the door will be opened.
This ought to feel comforting. This ought to give us confidence in God’s power and mercy. But this always makes me very conflicted, if not downright testy. Maybe it’s just me, but there have been numerous times in my life where I’ve asked, knocked, and sought, and it definitely did not feel like the door opened, I received, or I found.
I tend to be very stingy in my asks of God; I don’t want to impose, or ask for too much. That sounds ridiculous as I write it, but there it is. So when I do ask or seek, it’s generally for something big, or hard, or scary. Because of the magnitude of the ask, I absolutely remember when it feels like the door didn’t open, or I didn’t receive.
My loved one’s illness, for example. I have asked that they be healed. I’ve sought ways to comfort them while they’re in crisis. They haven’t been healed, and in the height of their crises, I am impotent, despite my prayers. So what to do with this pithy comment from Jesus? Seek and you will find, knock and the door will be answered. Hmph.
I could approach this as if my examples are proof of the statements’ errors or inaccuracies; by my selected experiments, I’ve disproved Jesus’ hypothesis. But if I’m a person of faith, that makes no sense. I have to believe that Jesus is likely more right than I am, that God didn’t likely get this wrong, so perhaps I did. If I hold Jesus’ statements as true, the problem is in my testing or my conclusions. (I know this isn’t a scientific proof, but sometimes that’s how my brain works). Now the hard work begins. I need to reevaluate the things I could have gotten wrong, that would disprove Jesus, and see where I’m in error.
The first option, which is certainly true is that I don’t ask and therefore don’t see all the hundreds of times when God does open the door for me. Even on the worst days, I lay my head on my pillow knowing I did my best, and that I have a lot to be thankful for. Even in my crazy, lead and asbestos filled house, I am very content and happy to be here. Even with an unexpected loss of employment and ministry, I am landing right where I need to be. When I don’t pray for these things, when I don’t ask God for a sense of peace, or for inspiration to write every morning, I don’t see all of the times I received, or the door opened. If I’m only intentional about God’s role in 1% of my seeking, I miss the 99% that’s proving Jesus words. Note to self, try to invoke God’s presence in more than just the 1%.
But even the 1% failure rate could disprove Jesus’ words, so what to do about them? I think these instances are problems in my understanding of God’s movement in my life. I’ve asked for peace and calm when my loved one is in crisis. While it might not come in their physiological crisis, upon reflection, the peace and calm absolutely come to me. I find that when I pray for them to be more calm and grounded, I am the one who becomes more calm and grounded. When I pray that job circumstances occur in a certain way so I’m useful in this world, I find that I discover I am useful in this world, even if my prescription of details were wrong. I seek one thing, and God delivers it, just not in the way I was anticipating. In a former life in local government management, I worked with City Councils who set policy, while I worked on the executive branch – the side that executed what the policy makers wanted. I frequently asked them, ‘you tell me what, I’ll tell you how’. I needed them to tell me what they wanted, and as the professional hired to execute their direction, I could best succeed if I figured out the best ‘how’. Perhaps this is the same with God. You tell me what, I’ll tell you how. “God, grant this situation peace and calm.” And I should stop there. God doesn’t really need me dictating how. Perhaps I should leave that to God.
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