I often think back to the day when for the first time I saw with my own eyes what I prayed for. It was during my first and last summer camp in the mountains. If I remember correctly, I just finished the sixth grade of primary school. I did not think that I could take this trip so badly. It was the first time that I went somewhere without my parents or brothers, and something happened with my emotions that I couldn’t control. I wasn’t homesick. It was despair, readiness to move heaven and earth to return to my loved ones.
I remember myself standing in a long line to a telephone booth in a small mountain village to talk to my parents for minutes. I remember spending all my money on making very short calls on a cellphone that the oldest girl in our group had as the only one (calls were very expensive at the time). I remember going to my neighbors who had a landline so that I could talk to my parents. And I remember they called just once a day. And that day they already called, so it was not possible that they would call again.
On that day, for a reason I no longer remember, my despair abounded. It’s hard to describe how it worked for me, but it was like a heart torn alive and tears that didn’t stop flowing. I knew it was irrational, but I still couldn’t control it. I remember going out to the balcony and walking back and forth looking for a solution. And suddenly my heart found Him. I knew God before, it wasn’t our first meeting. However, I did not know Him as the One with whom I can be in a living and intense relationship. I started asking God to make my parents call me again that day. I knew it was simply impossible. We took advantage of our neighbors’ politeness, and this one call a day was an exception a lot. But I knew that there was no way God could fail. I was walking on that balcony and telling Him that I knew He could do it. That He would answer. It was something burning inside of me. The conviction of a little girl who grasped Jesus’ sleeve and was not going to let it go. Not out of audacity, but out of the deep trust that it is impossible that the One she knows would leave her without rescue.
I remember noticing that there was a commotion inside the room. Someone pointed at me, and then another person came to tell me that my parents were calling me. I ran to the neighbors, to the phone. Still in some frenzy and noise, some said yes, there was a phone, and others that no, there wasn’t. But I knew it was. And that only He could do it. That day I had my talk with my parents which I prayed for.
I often come back to that memory and that determination. For this pure cry for Jesus who does not disappoint. For whom it is impossible to fail.
I think about what happened a lot, and that simplifies me. In the midst of all these patterns of reaching God, I remember that it is simple. Call out. Make a room for Him. Recognize your helplessness. And His greatness. Come to the King with the uncertainty of your circumstances and the certainty of Himself. Believe Him. And act according to this faith. And keep believing in Him who can do anything.
I remember how little I knew about God then, how little I knew Him. But it was not a wall between us. And after years of walking together, He delights me even more.
Call Him. Just now, like you are.
It is impossible for Him to fail.