Why You Should Just Ask.

“Ask and it will be given to you…” Matthew 7:7

Miracles aren’t miracles anymore, they’re moments; moments that are forgotten faster than the time it took for the miracle to take place. But the same was true when God walked with us two thousand years ago. Each miracle Jesus performed lasted only a moment, didn’t it? When He calmed the storm; when He fed the five thousand; when He cured the leper, gave sight to the blind man, healed a man’s shriveled hand, those were all just moments too weren’t they?

So, what’s changed?

We don’t ask. Why not? Because we’re afraid to ask.

Okay, we think. If I ask for this—what’s the catch? And no wonder. There’s way too much preaching and teaching nowadays that sounds like: “If you ask God for strength, well then you better get ready because—"

Stop. That’s trash theology. Pastors who spew that ungodly garbage are the reason why so many of God’s children grow up. Meaning, they’re afraid to ask God for anything because of some impending and ominous Gotcha! moment purported by too many of those at the pulpit.

Speaking of children, I subscribe to what Jesus says in Matthew 18:3, “I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.”

Children ask. What’s more, children are not afraid to ask. They just ask.

I had a track meet yesterday. While I was warming up for the sixty-meter dash, ten minutes till race time, I tweaked my low back.

You’ve got to be kidding, I thought. My wife, Tiffany, would be finding her seat any minute. She paid ten bucks to be there because I needed her to film the race so I could use it for content creation. Instead of bowing out of the race, I sent her a text: Say a quick prayer. I just tweaked my back.

The men’s sixty-meter dash began. I was in the eighth heat, the last one. Thank God for that, I needed all the extra time I could get. After the fourth heat, I prayed: “Lord, please protect me. Help me run this race so all who see and know the story of how it came to pass may glorify you. In Jesus’ mighty name I pray, Amen.”

I was set to race in lane seven. After the fifth heat, another competitor came up to me. “Hey,” he said, pointing to the heat sheets taped about the water fountain. “They just switched up the lane assignments—might wanna check it out.”

“Really?” I said, then thought, that’s a first. This is my seventh-year sprinting competitively, and that’s never happened before.

Still heat eight, I thought, squinting hard at the new heat sheets—but my lane changed from seven to three.

Two heats later, it was time for me to race.

“On your marks…” the starter said.

Get out fast, I thought, eyeing the scabby white starting line as my hands crowded it. Stay off the ground and you’ll be fine.

“Set…”

I raised my hips, inhaled deeply through my nose.

POW!

The moment I realized I was upright and running, I was already approaching the finish line. I ran a season best time, on a tweaked low back. To me, that’s a miracle, and all it took was me asking—just like a child would have.

I hurried upstairs to meet Tiffany so I could share the moment with her. Little did I know she had a moment to share with me as well.

“Just had an answered prayer,” she said. I thought she was talking about my back. “Where I was sitting, there was no way I would have been able to film you unless you were in lanes one, two, or three. So, I went to say a prayer,” she furrowed her eyebrows, then continued: “And then I got all worried about being selfish or whether it was in His will and then I thought: stop. Just ask. And I did. I prayed for you to be in any of the first three lanes so I could film you—and then you were! How crazy is that?”

I laughed. “Wanna know what’s really crazy?” I said, then told her about how my lane was changed at the last minute. Joy isn’t the word.

There wasn’t a catch. There wasn’t a Gotcha! There was just one unforgettable moment where two miracles happened because we, like little children, weren’t afraid to ask—and it was given to us.