When the Promptings Don't Come

Finding it an utter bore after staring at the television for five straight hours, watching the tissues collect in the nearest trash bin, my nose needing to be "snifflled" every few seconds, unwrapping cough drop after cough drop, scrolling through memes on Facebook that seemed to have given back my laughs, I began to think. That's usually what happens when you're sick. You get cabin fever, and your mind begins to race. But if that's not what happens to you, perhaps you aren't human!
A good friend of mine shared some of her thoughts and experiences on following promptings today, which--ironically--prompted the thought: Well, what if the promptings don't come?
I feel like in the Church, we only talk about what to do when we feel prompted, but seldom--if ever--talk about what to do when the promptings don't come.
I haven't yet voiced my frustration about none of my family members receiving promptings to help my brother when he was in his darkest moment before he ultimately took his life. Well, here it is.
We're leading into the sixth month since his death, and the one thing that continues to bother me most about Christian's passing is that God seemed to be absent. Where was He? I find myself beginning to relate more and more to the popular song by The Fray.

Why'd you have to wait?

Where were you? Where were you?

Just a little late.

Sometimes I feel like I'm being suffocated by these very ideas when they pass through my train of thought. Everything was falling apart. Why didn't God tell me to text my brother that morning? Why didn't God tell my mom not to leave the house? Why didn't God tell my dad he needed to come home early from work? Why didn't God tell one of my siblings to stop by the house? Where were the promptings?

I've always assumed since I've been baptized and was given the constant companionship of the holy ghost that in every instance and if I was worthy, something would whisper in my ear, and I could be a hero.

Such isn't the case. In fact, when my older brother called, Corey and I were talking about going to the temple that evening. 

I guess this is what confused me even more. I was so excited for the temple, to be closer to God, only to have my brother ripped away from this life without so much as a little godly intuition that something was wrong. How is that fair? Wasn't I promised to receive promptings?

I received them all the time on my mission like what to say--or what not to say--during a lesson, whose door to knock on, that I needed to come home early, that I even needed to serve in the first place. 

Why would God give me a prompting to knock on a door of someone's home who wouldn't even accept the gospel during the time I was there but refrain from sending my brother any assistance during his time of need?

This is the level of rawness that's been affecting my relationship with what I would refer to as the "almighty God"--quotations inviting sarcasm. The phrase "mighty to save" must have carried a much different denotation.

Of course, I'm working to overcome this spiritual setback with the Man upstairs, and for the most part, I'm beginning to understand just where He was when we were all going about our days as normal while Christian was losing his fight with depression.

As hard as it is to say, my little brother had his mentally ill-stricken mind made up about dying--the pain going away for good--and God can't strip us of our agency. Isn't that why we're here? 

I look back to that day and realize that God was with Christian, and with all of us, but there wasn't necessarily a need for someone to physically rescue him. But I know he was aided by some on the other side of the veil. Perhaps the need for Christian to be helped came from somewhere we can't see. 

The promptings won't always come. 

While God is no respecter of persons, He respects our right to choose. 

When the promptings don't come, don't blame God. Don't blame yourself. When the promptings don't come, know that God was never absent.

When the promptings don't come, know that God is still God and He sees the bigger picture.

The only thing we can do when the promptings don't come is ask ourselves, "What can be learned from this?"

Death doesn't seem at all like a learning experience--especially when it's tragic. But it is.

I have learned in the past year since losing three relatives, close and more distant, how crucial it is for me to accept Jesus Christ as my Savior and Redeemer and follow Him. Because of Him, the Plan of Salvation isn't just a blueprint sitting on a table waiting for its Architect to take action. 

It is in full force, and I couldn't be more grateful for the knowledge it brings that despite what I have previously felt are discrepancies in the Lord's actions regarding my family, He knows what He's doing, and He will reunite us with my brother again.