Is God Even Listening?
By: Missionary Team
Do disappointments, setbacks, trials, and failures shake your faith?
You’ve tried praying.
You bring your concerns to God. You’ve prayed for your brother or friend, but his situation doesn’t improve. Your uncle lost his job, and despite your prayers, can’t find another. Your grandma can’t receive visitors and grows lonelier every day. You can’t do the things you used to or go where you used to go. The world is a mess. It’s turned upside down; things once considered wrong are considered right, and right is seen as wrong. Your family and your parish—and you—you’ve prayed for these things and more, but over and over, evil seems to triumph and good fails.
Doesn’t God care?
If He cares, why doesn’t He grant our prayers? Why doesn’t he heal your brother and help your uncle? Why does He let evil seem to win the day? Does God just look down from heaven and watch, instead of getting involved? Does He even look down at all?
You pray again anyway.
When your family sits down to pray the Rosary, they invite you to join them. Even though you don’t feel like it, and you’ve seen no results from your prayers, you pick up your rosary and sit on the couch. You can think of a dozen other things you’d rather be doing, but they expect you to pray with them and you’re a pretty good kid, so you do it. But your heart isn’t in it, and you can’t help wondering why they bother. Why do they keep saying the same things over and over? The same prayers, the same intentions, the same results.
Then something different happens.
You’re praying the third Joyful Mystery, not feeling very joyful when suddenly the scene unfolds in your mind. The Virgin Mary stands next to a donkey, a blue cloak was drawn around her, her breath visible in the cool air, and her hand resting on her round belly. At nine months pregnant, she’s got to be uncomfortable. How many miles did they walk? Why did Herod’s census have to be now? Why did she have to go? Better question: why did God choose this time to have the Virgin Mary give birth? He knows all things, right? He must’ve known when the baby would be due. Wouldn’t it have been better for her to deliver the baby in her own hometown, where family could support her?
Mary’s eyes shift toward Joseph.
Standing a stone’s throw away, Joseph pounds on yet another door in this crowded town. Due to the census, a lot of other people have traveled to Bethlehem too. The innkeeper shakes his head. He frowns after hearing Joseph’s story, but they’ve got no room. More rejection for poor Saint Joseph. He’s got to be feeling pretty low. His wife is about to give birth. Where is God? Why doesn’t He do something?
After knocking on too many doors, someone finally says yes.
No, they can’t stay in the inn, but they can find shelter where the animals sleep. It’s cold and damp and the smell—ugh. Well, it’s better than nothing, but you can’t imagine a woman delivering a baby in such a place. A sanitized hospital room with a team of medical personnel, yes. A comfortable home with a midwife, sure. But a stable where animals sleep?
Why does God allow this?
Doesn’t He care? The baby is born in a stable and placed in a manger, that is, the animals’ feeding trough. The straw is fresh, the manger as clean as Joseph could get it, and the animals provide warmth. Joseph has prepared things the best he could.
Joseph’s gaze shifts from the baby to you.
You jerk back, shocked that he’s made eye contact with you. But then he motions you closer. You draw near, your heart burning as you realize this is no ordinary baby. This is the Son of the living God. Jesus the Christ. He has come into the world in the same way we all do, nine months ago hidden in his mother’s womb. And now the baby—God Himself—cries softly, uncomfortable in the cold, damp stable. God so loves the world, and each one of us, that He has taken on our human form. And even though Adam and Eve fell from grace, making it so we all inherit fallen human nature, God has not given up on us.
You know the rest of the story.
Jesus experienced the challenges, joys, sufferings, and trials of life just as we all do. And then He did something that none of us will ever do or could ever do. He bore every one of our sins and offered Himself to the Father on the cross for our salvation. But the story doesn’t end there. It doesn’t even end with the Resurrection.
Jesus wants to be close to us.
“Close” isn’t even the right word. He wants to be united with us. That’s why He gave us the Holy Eucharist—His Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity—as our food. He lives in us. He walks with us every day, through every joy and every trial, coming as close to us as we allow. We can only see Him with the eyes of faith, but He is there, every step of the way. He hears all our prayers; rather, He is praying right along with us.
The Blessed Mother smiles at you.
You stand there, gaping, along with the shepherds. Later, the three Wise Men will arrive, but for now, God has revealed this secret to the lowliest people on earth. And now, He’s revealed it to you.
Open your heart to Him.
As I prepare for Christmas this year, Lord Jesus, help me to see that You are with me every moment of every day. You care more deeply and intimately about me than anyone else could ever do. My every choice matters to You. You share in my joys and you carry my crosses with me. You not only hear my prayers, You inspire them, and You answer them in ways I can’t begin to comprehend. Help me to trust You with my life and with all my prayers and hopes and dreams. Help me to trust when I don’t see the results I hope for. Help me to place all my hope in You. Come, Lord Jesus, come more deeply into my heart.
“Those who pray, have hope. Those who pray little, are in great danger.
Those who do not pray, are lost.” St. Padre Pio
