Recently, I attended an AA meeting where a guy shared about his recent entry into sobriety. He told us how he had been strung out in a local park, suffering through withdrawal. Exhausted and desperate, he prayed.
“God, if You hear me, take me out of this life. Take me from this suffering. Either get me out of here or kill me straight away.”
The next day, he was abruptly awakened by the Anaheim PD. Within seconds, he was being arrested—and he wanted no part of it.
“You can’t do this! Leave me alone! I’m not doing anything wrong. Just leave me here!”
He fought until he was exhausted. Drenched in sweat, he was placed in the back of a squad car.
During the ride to the police station, he began to feel a sense of relief. Then came a moment of clarity: he remembered his prayer. He had asked God to take him from the park, from the pain, from the life he could no longer bear.
And lo and behold, there he was—being taken away from the very place he had begged God to help him leave.
As he told it, God had sent His warriors in the form of the Anaheim PD. And he had fought them every step of the way.
He said a smile spread across his face, from ear to ear. The arresting officer caught a glimpse of it in the rearview mirror.
“He must have thought I was crazy,” he told us.
But that smile was almost like a tip of the cap to God.
“I guess You answered my prayers. Now what, God?”
This time, he thanked God for pulling him out—even if he had to go kicking and screaming.
I loved this story because I could see myself in it. How many times have I asked God for help, then resisted what came next? I pray for change, but when it interrupts my plans or takes me somewhere unfamiliar, I protest. I want relief, but I also want to decide how it arrives.
“For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the LORD.” — Isaiah 55:8, KJV
That man prayed to leave the park, then fought the people who came to take him out. I’ve done my own version of that. I’ve asked God to free me while holding tightly to the very things keeping me trapped.
“Trust in the LORD with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.” — Proverbs 3:5–6, KJV
To acknowledge Him, I have to make room for the possibility that His answer will look different from my expectation. It may come through a helping hand, a difficult conversation, or a consequence I can no longer avoid. That doesn’t mean every painful experience is sent by God. But even there, I can look for His presence and the next step toward healing.
For this man, the moment of recognition came in the back of a squad car. The circumstances hadn’t changed, but something inside him had. His protest became gratitude. His demand became a question: “Now what, God?”
And maybe that’s where my prayer needs to go, too.
“God, get me out of here” is the cry. “Now what, God?” is the beginning of surrender.
I don’t want to spend my life praying for an open door, then fighting it when it opens. I want to recognize His hand, loosen my grip, and have the courage to follow.
Closing Prayer
Father, help me recognize You in the moments I don’t understand. When Your answer looks different from what I expected, quiet my fear and give me discernment. Show me what I need to release and the next step I need to take. Thank You for meeting me in my suffering and for the people who help lead me toward healing. Give me the willingness to stop fighting, the humility to accept help, and the faith to ask, “Now what, God?” Then help me follow. In Jesus’ name, amen.
