Writing about answered prayer for a magazine called Pray! is more than a little intimidating to me. I flinch when people refer to me as a prayer warrior, for my ministry of intercession is fraught with seasons of struggle, and often more questions than answers. I relate to the anonymous author who wrote: "I wish that people would stop writing about people who pray on rafts and get rescued. Because they don't all get rescued."

Not all of my prayers get answered. I don't recall ever speaking a word of faith and seeing the fire of God fall in front of me. Yet I have seen His hand in wonderful ways throughout my life. He has been faithful. And the older I get, the more I realize God just doesn't have to be in a huge hurry very often. To Him, the process seems to matter as much as the product when it comes to answering prayer.

Some of the greatest miracles I have known came after years of hard work in prayer. Through seasons of belief characterized by bursts of doubt, my faith has grown until I think I understand something about the "substance of things hoped for and the evidence of things not seen" (Hebrews 11:1, KJV).

The Journey

My first such journey began when I was 11 years old, the day my father called our whole family to the living room to tell us that Carol -- my charming teenage role model -- would no longer live at home because of her immoral lifestyle. I was devastated.

For the next several years, I rarely saw Carol. Once in a while she would drop in for a quick chat. Occasionally I got to go visit her. I missed her terribly, and, in a childlike manner, pleaded with God to bring her back home.

By the time I went away to college, Carol appeared to have everything: money, success, and an adoring boyfriend. Neverthless, I caught glimpses of loneliness in her eyes when we got together.

My heart grew heavy for Carol. Because my own spiritual life had grown, I knew my sister was far from a relationship with God. I tried to share with her how wonderful Jesus was to me. "Honey," she responded, "I am so glad for you. But not everyone wants the same things you want. I'm happy -- just be happy for me."

In my small Christian college, I enlisted the prayer support of everyone I knew. I believed with all my heart that Carol would come back to the Lord any moment. I clutched Mark 11:24 like a lifeline: "Whatever you ask for in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours."

One night as I sang with a college group at a church near where Carol lived, I was surprised to see her in the audience. I hugged her tight after the concert. As we talked into the night she opened up: "I'm thinking of leaving Michael. It's not fun anymore and he's not happy. I want something more, but I can't seem to put my finger on it."

"Carol, you know what I think. God is calling you to come home to Him. He loves you. Why don't you just try?"

She quickly changed the subject, but I knew God was answering my prayers.

The next year Carol did leave Michael, hitting the road like thousands of others those days to "find herself." All we knew were the wisps of thought as she jotted notes home in her journeys across the country. Her letters were lofty and wild, and I couldn't find her in them at all. But I prayed for her every day.

Then her letters and calls stopped completely. We could only plead with God to protect and bring her back.

I was getting married that year and longed for Carol to be a part of my wedding. I called Michael to see if he knew where she was. He gave me the last address he had for her -- somewhere in another state.

I wrote, begging Carol to come home for my wedding. No reply. I insisted my mom make her bridesmaid dress, certain she would be there. As I prayed for word from her through the coming weeks, the dress hung in my closet like a neon sign, reminding me that my prayers were still unanswered.

The weeks went by in a flurry of plans and parties, and I continued to pray. Finally, the wedding week came. Family came from far and wide to celebrate, but though I was excited, inside I heard a nagging voice: "So much for all that prayer--it didn't work did it?" I tried to push the thoughts aside.

One evening as we finished dinner at my parents house, the door opened. My eyes filled with tears. There stood Carol; pale and gaunt, her eyes revealing untold misery.

"Carol!" I ran across the room and we embraced as the rest of the family gathered around. "I knew you would com," I cried, forgetting my earlier doubts. Overjoyed, I whispered a prayer of thanksgiving.

My excitement was short-lived. When I tried to talk to her, she touted platitudes about the wonders of Eastern religion. The next morning, she placed a statue of Buddha on our front lawn. The tension in the house rose as my father, hurt and angry, tossed the statue in the trash.

As I ate breakfast, I shared my struggle with an older friend in the Lord. I told her how I had prayed for 10 years and was so sure God would answer, but now things looked more hopeless than ever.

She took my hand. "Tricia, what would it look like if God did answer? Have you ever considered what it is you are praying for? She opened her Bible to Hebrews 11:1, reading: "Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen." "What do you hope for?" she asked. "What do you not see now, but are sure you will see when God answers?"

I hadn't really thought about it. As she spoke, I began to formulate a picture of my sister as a child of God. I envisioned her strong in her faith, full of passion for Jesus, with joy on her face and peace in her heart. My friend and I prayed together then, thanking God for what He was already doing, though we could not see it. The promise from Mark 11:24 came back to me: "believe that you have received it."

The Answer

When we got home from our honeymoon, Carol was still there. For the next two weeks we talked often. I could tell she was struggling with spiritual things, trying to integrate her newfound Eastern religion with the faith of her childhood.

Then one day she asked me to come over. She looked completely different. The lines on her face were gone and her eyes glowed. I was overwhelmed as she began to open up. She told me how she had been sitting day after day in the afternoon sun with various religious books, including the Bible spread in front of her, trying to find the truth. No matter how hard she tried to avoid it, her heart was always drawn back to Scripture.

Finally she tired of the struggle and uncertainty. She went to a back bedroom to settle the issue with God once and for all. Her words amazed me: "I knelt down by the bed and told God I wasn't sure if He was real, and didn't really know what to believe, but that if He would have me, I wanted to be His."

She cried softly. "So, I waited for a minute, and then I sensed this overwhelming light filling the room. I couldn't move. I don't know how long I knelt there, but God was so real, I just poured out my life to Him. I felt such sorrow at my past and yet for the first time in years a sense of hope. Nothing like this has ever happened to me before."

The day Carol gave her life to the Lord, everything changed. She quit drugs, drinking, smoking and Eastern meditation, and she began to devour the Bible and other books about Christian growth. God truly did above and beyond all I had dared hope for.

That was 24 years ago. Today Carol and I share a deep walk with God and her faithfulness encourages me. She is a joyful reminder of how God has answered prayer through the years, and an encouragement as I continue learning to trust His time and plan.

The precious journey of prayer that began in the heart of an 11 year old girl, continues still stretches me. Many times I find myself out on a limb of faith, where I falter and fear and sometimes wonder if God knows I'm there. I've discovered that trusting God over the long haul can be risky business, but what an adventure when I stay on the ride.

(Reprinted from Pray! Magazine, Issue 3, November/December, 1997)

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