“But if not…”

Those might be three of my favorite words in all of scripture.

And, if I’m being honest... I think I have prayed some version of those words a million times.

God, I know You can fix this.

I know You can provide.

I know You can change this situation.

I know You can open the door, heal the relationship, soften the heart, send the answer, make the money stretch, change the diagnosis, rescue the person I love, or take away the thing that hurts.

I know You can.

But if not...

Will I still trust You?

That question has followed me through some of the hardest seasons of my life.

As we are studying Isaiah this week in CFM, I am reminded of a story in Daniel that I found myself reading again this morning in my study.

Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed-nego were told to bow down and worship King Nebuchadnezzar’s golden image. If they refused, they would be thrown into a fiery furnace.

Their answer is remarkable:

“Our God whom we serve is able to deliver us from the burning fiery furnace, and he will deliver us... But if not... we will not serve thy gods” (Daniel 3:17–18).

But if not.

I love that they said both things.

They didn’t minimize God’s power. They believed completely that He could save them.

But their faith wasn’t dependent on Him doing it.

There is something about that kind of faith that catches in my throat because I want that faith.

And some days, I think I have it.

And other days...I am standing in my kitchen asking God why something still hasn’t changed.

Maybe you know that feeling too.

You prayed.

You fasted.

You went to the temple.

You put the name on the prayer roll.

You tried to be obedient. You searched the scriptures for an answer. You listened for prompting after prompting.

And the fire was still hot.

That is where “but if not” becomes more than a beautiful scripture story.

It becomes personal.

There have been so many times in my life when my prayers have sounded something like this:

I know You can do this, God.

But if not... help me trust You here.

I know You can change this.

But if not... help me stay close to You while it hurts.

I know You can provide a way.

But if not ...in the way I am hoping...help me recognize the way You are providing.

I know You can rescue me from this.

But if not...walk through it with me.

That last one matters to me.

Because Isaiah doesn't say we won't have to walk through the fire.

The Lord says:

“When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee... when thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned” (Isaiah 43:2).

Through.

I wish sometimes the promise said around.

I would prefer around.

Around the heartbreak. Around financial uncertainty. Around grief. Around disappointment. Around watching someone I love make choices I cannot control. Around unanswered prayers and circumstances that stretch on much longer than I thought they would.

But so often, God takes us through.

And perhaps the miracle isn't always that He removes the fire.

Sometimes the miracle is who meets us inside of it.

And...

This might be my favorite part of the story.

Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed-nego were bound and thrown into the furnace.

But when Nebuchadnezzar looked inside, he was astonished.

He said, “I see four men loose, walking in the midst of the fire” (Daniel 3:25).

Four.

They went in bound.

They were walking around free.

And they weren't alone.

I can't stop thinking about that.

Sometimes we are begging God to get us out of the fire while He is quietly saying, Look again. I am already in here with you.

Maybe deliverance doesn't always look like escape.

Maybe sometimes deliverance looks like discovering that the thing we thought would destroy us somehow didn't.

We are still standing.

Still praying.

Still getting up.

Still finding manna for today.

Still seeing tiny evidences that God knows our name.

Still walking.

And somehow, Jesus is there.

And...

This is where faith gets harder.

Because Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed-nego walked out of the furnace.

But... Abinadi didn't.

He was faithful too.

He testified of Christ. God had delivered him before. And yet... eventually...Abinadi was killed for what he believed.

That part matters.

Because sometimes we tell stories of faith and accidentally make them sound like formulas.

Trust God and everything will work out.

Pray hard enough and the answer will come.

Have enough faith and the miracle will happen.

Except sometimes it doesn't.

Sometimes the marriage still ends.

Sometimes the person doesn't come back.

Sometimes the business struggles.

Sometimes the healing doesn't happen.

Sometimes the answer is no.

Sometimes the thing we were absolutely certain God would fix remains painfully unfixed.

I don't think that means God wasn't there.

And I don't think it means we didn't have enough faith.

Maybe this is exactly where “but if not” becomes sacred.

Abinadi said something before his death that feels almost like his own version of those three words:

“It matters not whither I go, if it so be that I am saved” (Mosiah 13:9).

His hope had moved beyond the outcome of that moment.

His hope was in Christ.

I have lived long enough now to know that I don't always understand what God is doing while He is doing it.

There have been prayers I was certain needed one answer, only to look back later and realize God was doing something entirely different.

There have also been prayers I still don't understand.

Maybe there always will be.

But I have watched Him provide.

I have watched Him take ashes and somehow, slowly, make something beautiful from them.

Not by pretending the burning didn't hurt.

It did.

Not by calling something good that wasn't good.

But by refusing to waste any of it.

Isaiah calls it “beauty for ashes” (Isaiah 61:3).

I love that promise because ashes mean something burned.

Something was lost.

Something didn't turn out the way we wanted.

And God doesn't ask us to pretend otherwise.

He takes the ashes.

Those exact ashes.

And somehow He begins creating again.

So... Lately I have been thinking that perhaps one of the bravest prayers we can pray sounds like this:

God, I believe You can.

I believe You are still a God of miracles.

I believe You can open doors I cannot open and change things I cannot change.

I will ask You boldly for what I hope for.

I will keep praying.

I will keep believing.

But if not...

If the answer looks different than I hoped...

If this takes longer than I wanted...

If You don't remove this fire...

Help me recognize You standing inside it with me.

Help me get up when I feel bound and fallen.

Help me walk.

Help me trust that being delivered doesn't always mean being removed.

And if all I have strength for today is one more step... then stay beside me for that one step.

Because perhaps peace isn't found in finally knowing how everything will turn out.

Maybe peace begins when we know Who will be with us however it turns out.

I still pray for miracles.

I still ask God to change things.

I still hope for the furnace to cool.

But somewhere along the way... my prayers have become a little different.

I know You can.

I hope You will.

But if not...

I still choose You.