If, in prayer, I ask God to bring a swift end to my struggles, that is only natural.

We all would do so, I imagine. And I imagine many of us have done that at some point in our lives.

But why do I make such a plea? Because I feel desperate for change. Because I am in pain and life is difficult.

But what am I really asking of God? That his great tapestry should be adjusted and rewoven to make my part in it more comfortable?

Am I asking God to rule the universe according to what suits me? Because, although, in my prayers, I am concerned with my own experience of life, in God's view, my life is an interwoven strand in his tapestry.

There is a fundamental difference between my view of things and his view of things.

Yes, I may feel desperate, I may be in pain, but can I ask God to chart a new course to account for it?

Well, yes, of course I can and frequently do. Lord, in your mercy, hear my prayer! It rolls off the tongue, doesn’t it?

And sometimes he does, perhaps, across the entire tapestry, he is doing so all the time.

But in sober reflection, I must recognise that my relief may not be the way the strands must be threaded.

And so we must say: “yet, not my will, but yours be done.” Even if we say it with tears, we must say it before the final Amen.

And in that hard, sad sober acceptance there is joy in knowing that the Weaver is weaving and one day we may see that tapestry in its full glory and beauty.

This is where true faith and trust are forged and themselves give rise to a mature joy that can say “yet not my will, but yours be done” and mean it.