I read this poem last Sunday, and I had several requests for copies, so I thought I’d post it on my blog.  However, let me share with you a few disclaimers:  (1) I have been unable to find the author so I can’t give proper credit.  (2) Don’t take the theology in the poem too seriously.  It’s meant to be humorous.  (3) It’s from a genre (Cowboy Poetry) that fascinates me but that sometimes causes others to groan.  I apologize ahead of time if it makes you groan!  Here it is:

Jake, the rancher, went one day to repair a distant fence.  The wind was cold and gusty and the clouds rolled gray and dense.  As he pounded the last staples in and gathered tools to go, The temperature fell and the wind and the snow began to blow.

When he finally reached his pickup truck, he felt a heavy heart. From the sound of that ignition, he knew it wouldn’t start.  So Jake did what most of us would do if we had been there.  He humbly bowed his balding head and sent aloft a prayer.

As he turned the key for the last time, he softly cursed his luck.  They found him three days later, frozen stiff in that old truck. 

“I’ve heard” Jake said to Peter at the pearly gates, “that God He answers prayer.”  But that one time I asked for help, well, He just plain wasn’t there.”  “Does God answer prayers of some, and ignore the prayers of others?  That don’t seem exactly square… I always thought all men were brothers.”

“Now I ain’t trying to act smart, it’s just the way I feel.  And I was wonderin’, could you tell me . . . about prayer, what is the deal?!”

St. Peter listened very patiently and when Jake was done, There were smiles of recognition, and he said, “So, you’re the one!”

“When your truck, it wouldn’t start, and you sent your prayer a-flying, You gave us all a real bad time, with hundreds of us trying.”  “A thousand angels rushed to check the status of your file, But you know, Jake, we hadn’t heard from you in quite a long while.” 

“And though all prayers are answered, and God ain’t got no quota, He didn’t recognize your voice, and started a truck in North Dakota.”

I want God to hear my voice often enough that He recognizes me!