Show Me the Way, God

When we ask God to show us the way out of our dilemmas or despair, do we expect his answers to look a certain way?

This past Christmas season, I watched the old film It’s a Wonderful Life for the first time in years. Other than a few iconic clips, I had forgotten most of it. But I was moved anew by one particular scene.

George Bailey, played by Jimmy Stewart, is a desperate man. He has put others first his entire life, sacrificing his dreams for theirs. But now, through no fault of his own, the well-being of nearly the whole town is in jeopardy. A large bank deposit for his family-owned savings and loan business is mysteriously missing, and the responsibility is on George’s shoulders.

After failing to remedy the situation and possibly facing jail, George stumbles into a bar and cries out to the heavenly Father he’s not sure will even hear him. “Show me the way, God,” he pleads with tears in his eyes, shaking with heart-wrenching emotion. (Watch this short scene, starting at the 3:20 mark in this clip.)

I believe this is an honest portrayal of the kind of human desperation that causes us to ultimately run to the One we hope will help us when we finally realize we’ve come to the end of our own efforts. I don’t know what fictional George Bailey expected, but I was prompted to wonder what we expect in God’s answers to our own pleas.

Immediacy? George doesn’t get a bolt-of-lightning answer. In fact, his situation looks bleaker by the minute. Succumbing to his desperation, he sinks deeper, believing everyone he knows would be better off if he had never been born. Even for those of us with a faith stronger than the one George apparently had, rather than trust that God will one way or another answer every prayer (even if his answer allows hardship), don’t we sometimes draw our own conclusions and make our own plans when we don’t see a divine answer without delay?

Surety? As portrayed in the movie, God answers George’s prayer when heaven sends an angel to show him his life has indeed been meaningful. But George isn’t having it. An angel named Clarence? Talk about doubt! Not recognizing this provision because of its unusual presentation is understandable. But even when George accepts Clarence for who he is, he resists the answer because it comes with pain: he sees how life would have been heartbreaking for his friends and family if he had indeed never been born. Do we too often doubt God’s provision when it doesn’t at first seem to adequately meet our needs? When our pain is not instantly relieved?

Directness? God never sends George a direct answer. Instead George receives a wake-up call. His kindness toward others—often at significant cost—and their love for him in return has made for a wonderful life, not by any ability of his own to avoid all hardship and loss. In the end, the town comes through with the money George needs, but the real lesson learned is what’s most precious and important to him. How often do we fail to see the answer God gives in response to our need because it doesn’t come as we imagined it would? How often do we ask for a superficial need, not recognizing he has provided an answer to a more important underlying need?

Do-it-yourself components? God never sends a solution George can employ on his own, which was probably what he was really asking for. He’d been used to solving problems himself, and that’s why everyone counted on him so much. All he needed was to know what to do. Sometimes God reveals specific actions for us to take, but trusting God is trusting him, not in what he’ll tell us to do to remedy dilemmas ourselves.

When we ask God to show us the way, whether in moments of the deepest desperation or everyday challenges, perhaps we need to remind ourselves that the way will always be his, not ours. His way may take time, requiring patience and faith. His way may not at first seem sure, tempting us to doubt. His way may be revealed in an indirect manner, prompting us to dig deeper for truth. But above all, his way is a higher way we do not possess, based on higher thoughts we do not have.

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“Just as the heavens are higher than the earth,

so my ways are higher than your ways

and my thoughts higher than your thoughts.” (Isaiah 55:9 NLT)

Jean Kavich Bloom is a champion coffee drinker and a freelance editor and writer for Christian publishers and ministries. She doesn’t garden, bake, or knit, but insists playing Scrabble is exactly the same thing. Jean and her husband, Cal, live in central Indiana. They have three children (plus two who married in) and five grandchildren. She blogs at bloominwordstoo.blogspot.com.