I have to confess—I struggle with waiting, especially when my prayers for clarity or breakthrough seem to hang in the air like morning mist that never lifts. I used to think effective prayer worked like a business transaction: clear request, prompt response, measurable results. This reminds me of an ancient story about a young scholar who desperately sought wisdom from a renowned master. The scholar had traveled for months to reach the master's mountain dwelling, his mind heavy with questions that kept him awake at night. When he finally arrived at the master's simple cottage, he found a beautiful garden surrounded by a tall wooden gate. The gate had no handle on the outside, only a small opening at eye level. "Master!" the scholar called through the opening. "I have come seeking your wisdom! Please, open the gate and teach me!" From somewhere within the garden came a gentle voice: "Ask, and you shall receive." The scholar immediately began rattling off his questions—dozens of them, about purpose, about success, about the meaning of suffering. His words tumbled over each other in his urgency. Silence. Hours passed. The scholar called out again, this time more desperately: "Master, I'm seeking answers! You said to ask!" Again, the voice replied: "Seek, and you shall find." Frustrated, the scholar began searching around the gate, examining every board, every hinge, looking for some hidden mechanism to open it. He pushed and pulled, convinced there must be some trick, some secret technique he was missing. Days passed. The scholar's food ran low, his clothes grew dirty, but still he remained. On the third morning, exhausted and humbled, he simply sat by the gate and whispered: "Master, I don't know what else to do." "Knock," came the gentle reply, "and it shall be opened unto you." The scholar looked at the gate with new eyes. He had been asking with demand, seeking with desperation, but he had never simply... knocked. With trembling hands, he raised his knuckles to the wooden gate and gave three soft knocks. The gate swung open immediately—it had never been locked. The master stood there, smiling, holding two cups of tea. "Welcome," he said. "I have been waiting for you to arrive." "But Master," the scholar stammered, "I've been here for three days!" "No," the master replied gently, "your questions arrived three days ago. Your searching arrived two days ago. But you... you just arrived now. The gate was always open, but you could only enter when you came not as a demander or desperately seeking customer, but as a humble guest, knocking gently at the door of relationship." This story captures a felt need that runs deep in our souls—the exhausting experience of feeling spiritually stuck, of wondering if our prayers are bouncing off the ceiling, of questioning whether we're doing something fundamentally wrong when our deepest requests seem to meet only silence. It's the frustration of people who work hard, pray earnestly, and live responsibly, yet still feel like they're standing outside a locked gate while everyone else seems to have found the secret password for spiritual breakthrough. But here's the beautiful truth: the gate was never locked, and the Master has been waiting all along. In today's scripture lesson, Jesus doesn't just acknowledge our struggle with prayer—he transforms it entirely, revealing that what we thought was divine silence was actually an invitation to discover a completely different way of approaching the heart of Providence. He shows us that our seemingly unanswered prayers aren't signs of spiritual failure, but doorways to deeper relationship than we ever imagined possible. Let’s begin!