Christian knew who he prayed to. The Truth. The Source. The One. God. He knew God had the ability, the power, the authority to answer prayer. He knew God could do anything. But there was one question he struggled with.
Did God want to?
He knew God could, but that didn't mean God would. Why would He? Why would God want to bother diverting His divine attention to Christian's simple, even insignificant, prayer? Surely the Creator had better things to do.
Christian felt almost guilty asking such a simple thing of God. His prayer, while vitally important to him, was really nothing in the grand scheme of the World. Even as he poured out his soul on the altar of prayer, he felt unworthy. Who was he to ask something so small of God? There were wars, famines, disasters out there. God-sized problems. Did God really have time to hear his simple request?
He could only hope.
And hope he did. With hope and faith, he lifted his heart. With clumsy words, more emotion than coherent thought, he asked God for help. It wasn't easy, admitting he needed help. Christian was proud, independent. God had made him that way. But
this . . . this was beyond him. This was something only God could do.
So he prayed.
And God listened.
He couldn't say how he knew, but he did. Something within
him . . . changed. He supposed some would call it peace, though he wasn't quite sure. But whatever it was, it told him that God had heard him. That He cared. It mattered. He mattered.
Christian didn't know how God would answer, but that was OK. God would take care of him. What gave him assurance was not that he would get what he asked for, but that God had listened.
And that meant everything to a man of simple faith.
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