Call to me and I will answer you and tell you great and unsearchable things you do not know.
I used to remind my sons about this verse when they had tests in school. Half teasing, but always one to encourage prayer, I was planting seeds I hoped would grow into close relationship with our all-knowing God.
The language of this verse is generous. “Great and unsearchable” is unlimited and grand. Yet, God has made a simple proposition. “Ask,” He says, “and I will answer.”
Too often, though, I find my prayers are small and short-sighted. That is not to say God isn’t interested in the details of our lives, or that He doesn’t care about the concerns of my day. It speaks more to the way I offer prayers in hurried lists, delegating those things I cannot do to the God Who Can. Then I rush off to more pressing tasks I can handle on my own, like sorting my watchlist on Netflix.
But really, what great and unsearchable things are we asking of God?
George Washington Carver asked God to unlock the secrets of the peanut. In 1921 Carver testified before Congress, saying, “I asked Him to show me what to do with the peanut, and He did.” (1)
What would happen if I asked God to show me the secrets of me? Or of my friends and family? Things like what He sees in them, and how to bring out His best in them? What if I asked God to show me why that little thing somebody does gets on my nerves so much? What in me needs to change? What if I asked Him to teach me how to solve a problem at work? Or how to reach my Muslim neighbor with the gospel? Or how to overcome my fear of what others may think?
These are all great and unsearchable things we do not know—unless we ask. Ask and listen …for He has promised to answer.
(1) William Federer, George Washington Carver: His Life and Faith in his Own Words (St. Louis, MO: Amerisearch, 2002). Pg. 36. quoted in Knowing & Doing Summer 2013 – George Washington Carver (1860-1943) | C.S. Lewis Institute. (n.d.). Retrieved January 31, 2018, from http://www.cslewisinstitute.org/George_Washington_Carver_FullArticle
~ Kay Helm