It Doesn't Hurt to Ask God by Wendy L. Macdonald

This month’s prompt unsettled me because the story that first came to mind is embarrassing to share. I strove to find a different one to tell. But nothing else as “extraordinary” appeared. You’ll see why in a moment.

I’m reserved in my style of worship. I rarely raise my hands in the air. But when I’m alone my exuberant worship style comes out of the closet and I dance up a storm while I praise the Lord. I’m also reserved about seeking or desiring signs and wonders. I attend a conservative church for this reason. This is where I’m the same at home as I am in public. I like things calm and predictable.

But God. God’s not predictable.

When I was in the throes and woes of infertility, I wanted to know if I was ever going to have a baby. It had been more than a decade of wondering when I pleaded for some sort of sign. I wanted to know if I should give up hope or not.

I’ve recorded the following incident in my journal; however, for the sake of brevity I’ll condense what happened.

After I begged for a word from God, I sensed His comforting Presence as I lay in the dark. It was a respite of peace in the midst of my turmoil. He knew about all the pregnancy tests I used over the decade of time my cycle was as irregular as the rugged BC coastline. He knew how heavy my heart sagged with grief each time my barren womb wept crimson. He knew. He cared. And now He loved on me because He’s always near to the brokenhearted.

Soon, a nudge prompted me to open my bible to Psalms. So, I did.

When I looked down at the first page I landed on, I spotted the word children. I couldn’t believe my eyes. First of all, I thought it was silly to flip open a bible like this. But the deed was already done. And now I needed to decide if it was a coincidence or not that the verse pertained to the subject of infertility.

He maketh the barren women to keep house, and to be a joyful mother of children. Praise ye the Lord. Psalm 113:9 KJV

Even though I asked humbly, sincerely, and with the understanding that God didn’t owe me so much as a grunt in reply, I was amazed He seemed to have mercy on me. I was amazed that of all the verses in the bible, my eyes landed on what I craved to interpret as a promise.

Weeks later I again lay awake at night and asked, “Oh, Lord, was that verse a promise from You?”

I waited. The room was charged with His peace and His Presence.

“Count your toes?” I heard in my spirit.

That’s weird.

But then I thought of all the weird things God asked people to do in the bible.

Well, I didn’t need to count my toes. And besides, they’re snug as a bug under my covers. I already knew how many I had. I know from … oh … that’s it. I know from past experience. I know from past experience that when God speaks a word to me, He means it. His word is truth.

Three months later I did a shocked and stunned happy dance when a pregnancy test finally—at long last—had something positive to say.

What I’ve learned from that experience is it doesn’t hurt to humbly ask God with faith while remembering He is the Boss—the Good Boss. He doesn’t have to reply. But I do have a tendency to wait until I’m at the end of my fraying string of sanity. He knows a desperate lady when He hears one.

How has this impacted my writing? Well, I have an 80,000-word memoir manuscript about my recovery from eating disorders and about my infertility journey; it's hanging out in my Word Doc files. Even if I never publish it, it gave me a bird’s-eye view of what God can do when we believe: It Doesn’t Hurt to Ask God.

Hey, are you inspired to ask God to let you know what His plans are for you?

I am. And now I need to be brave and add this to my memoir story—now that I’ve gotten over the embarrassment.

Blessings ~ Wendy Mac