My employer’s words struck terror in my heart: “I’m sorry, Jock, but we have to let you go. We’ve got to downsize to stay afloat.” Just like that, my 14-year career with a marketing agency was over. The chances of my finding another good job at age 51 were minuscule. How would I support my wife and four-year-old son?

Panicked, I prayed, “Lord, please lead me to a job.” Then I signed up for unemployment and scoured the want ads. I called everyone I knew. One woman I interviewed with asked, “Could you do a freelance assignment for us?” I agreed, thinking it might get my foot in the door.

When a former colleague begged, “Look, you have to help us with these projects! We’ll bring you in as a consultant,” I jumped at the chance for work.

After three months, I still hadn’t landed a full-time job. Freelance work kept coming in, though, so I couldn’t complain, especially since I was able to take “time off” to chaperone my son’s preschool field trips.

One day my wife said, “I don’t think you need to collect unemployment anymore.” I stared at her. “What do you mean?” I started to protest. She pointed to the long list of consulting assignments I had scheduled. Then I realized, Hey, I’m doing all right!

Two years later, I’m still working from home—and loving it. Never in my wildest dreams had I imagined myself making a living freelancing. But God had, and he’s led me to not just a job, but to one good job after another.

One of the best prayers that we could ever pray is “God, not my will, but your will be done.” If you will stay open to his direction, and follow your heart, God will protect you.

“It seems like God never answers my prayers,” someone may say. “He never does what I want.”

Maybe God is answering your prayers; he’s simply saying no. Or maybe he’s saying it’s not the right time. Or maybe he’s saying, “I’m not going to remove that obstacle until you change your attitude and quit complaining about it.” Make some simple adjustments, and you will see things begin to improve.

I thank God that he didn’t answer some of my prayers, because sometimes what I thought was the best for me wasn’t the best at all. Nevertheless, if you push and manipulate, trying to make things happen, God will sometimes let you have your way—and you will have to learn his lessons the hard way.

I’ve seen people jump into a relationship or a business deal that they didn’t feel good about, but they wanted it so badly. God is a gentleman. If you insist, he will back off and let you do things your way. Most of the time when we do that, though, we end up settling for second best.

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If events are not happening as quickly as you would like, or if you are not seeing circumstances change in your favor, open your grip on the situation; relax and learn to trust God.

Know this: God is on your side. He is not trying to hold you back. Nobody wants you to fulfill your destiny more than Almighty God. Nobody wants you to see your dreams come to pass any more than he does. He put the dream in your heart in the first place. Let him lead you and guide you.

I believe one of the best prayers that we could ever pray is “God, not my will, but your will be done.” I pray it in some form every day: “God, open up the right doors and close the wrong doors.” If you will stay open to His direction, and follow your heart, God will protect you.

It says in Proverbs, “If you acknowledge God in all your ways, He will direct your paths.” One translation says, “He’ll crown your efforts with success.”

Not long ago, some of our staff members and I were flying to another city aboard a small airplane. The aircraft had only one seat on each side of the aisle. After we took off, I wanted to get my tray table out so I could make some notes. The tray table on this particular plane came right out of the side, beneath my window.

There was a little sign that said “pull,” so I pulled, but I couldn’t get it open. It was stuck. My friend Johnny was sitting across the aisle, so I looked over at his tray table, which he had pulled out with ease, and his window looked exactly like mine. I went back to work, trying to extricate my table, yanking on it even harder. I thought, I’m going to get this tray table out if it’s the last thing I ever do!

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I tugged and pulled, and it still wouldn’t come out. About that time, Johnny came over and started pulling on the table release, and he couldn’t get it out either. One of our other staff members tried as well. Nothing happened.

Finally, I sat down across the aisle in a different seat. That’s when I looked up and noticed right above that window where we had been pulling was a little sign in big bold letters. It read, “No tray table this seat. Emergency exit only.”

I said, “Dear God, thank you for not letting me have my way. Thank you for not opening up that door.” Thank goodness the people who designed that plane knew there’d be people like me on board. They put a latch up top, where you had to use both hands to open the emergency door. Otherwise, pulling that latch may indeed have been one of the last things that I ever did!

Thank God, he knows what’s best for us. Thank God that he’s merciful and he doesn’t always give us our way.

I’ve learned that when my prayers aren’t being answered, or when things aren’t happening as fast as I would like, that either means that God is protecting me from danger up ahead, it’s not the right time, or God has something better in store.

The first year I went away to college, I applied for a job at the university television studio. The school owned a large, well-known production facility, and I’d always wanted to be a part of it. Television production was my passion.

The first week of school, I met with the production manager in charge of all the cameramen and hiring all the assistants. At that point, I had several years of camera experience under my belt.

The production manager went out of his way to be kind to me. He took a couple of hours to show me around, and we seemed to really hit if off. When it came time for me to leave, he said, “Joel, I’ll call you later this week and I’ll let you know about the job.”

That week went by, and I didn’t hear from him. The next week, nothing. The following week, still no word. Finally, I called him, and he was always either busy or out of town. It was the strangest thing: I didn’t think I would have any problem getting that job, but the door simply wasn’t opening.

Worse yet, I wanted it so badly, but I could see it just wasn’t meant to be. Finally, I accepted it and embraced the thought, No big deal. I’m just going to let it go.

In retrospect, I now realize that if I had taken that position, I probably would not have returned to Lakewood Church to start a television outreach. I know my personality. I would have been so caught up in the excitement and I would have loved it so much, I’m sure I just would have stayed right there at the university TV station.

But God knows what’s best for us. Although that job looked great to me at the time, I didn’t know where God was taking me. I didn’t know what he had in store. Had I remained there, I would have missed what God wanted me to do at Lakewood, and you would probably not be reading this.

Too often, we’re shortsighted. We can see only a little ways down the road, and even then we see through a glass dimly. God, though, can see the big picture. He knows when something is going to be a dead end. He knows when someone is going to be a distraction that will hinder us from our destiny.

Some of the things you may be frustrated about right now, 10 years from now you will look back at and thank God for not answering that prayer the way you wanted or for not opening up that door. You may not be able to see it right now, but that’s what faith is all about.

Why don’t you trust God? Believe that he has you in the palm of his hand and know that when it comes time for God to open a door, no man can keep it shut. No obstacle is too high. Your enemies may be powerful, but our God is all-powerful.

When God says it’s time to promote you, you are going to be promoted. The good news is that your promotion will not be one second late. Suddenly, God can turn any situation around. Suddenly, God can cause a door to open. All it takes is one touch of God’s favor.

That Saturday morning I slept in. Not like I had anything to get up for anyway. But I was staying at my sister’s and she had other ideas.

“Come on,” Kristina said, rousting me out of bed. “We’re going for a run.”

We’d both been runners growing up. I was on the cross-country and track teams in high school, though I wasn’t fast enough to race at the college level at Notre Dame. Still, I ran regularly and completed my first marathon senior year.

But I hadn’t laced up my running shoes in two years. First it was because I didn’t have time. I was a newlywed and new at my job as an insurance claims adjuster.

Lately it was because I didn’t have the interest or the energy. All the air went out of me when my mother died two months earlier, in October 2006, after a long battle with cancer. A week later, my wife told me she was going to file for divorce. It felt like my life had come to a complete standstill.

I went to work every day, but I was just going through the motions. People worried about me. My dad, my sister, my brother, friends. “You’ve got to pick yourself back up,” they urged.

I tried to reboot my life. I got a transfer from Chicago to our Washington, D.C., office. Kristina lived in the area and I could stay with her while I worked things out.

“Let’s go,” Kristina repeated. “I’ve got this six-mile route.”

I groaned. “I don’t feel like it.”

“You know running is the best way to clear your head,” she said.

Those six miles were brutal. Kristina led us across the George Mason Memorial Bridge into Washington, then down through the city and around the National Mall. Around the halfway mark, gasping for breath, I lifted my eyes to the heavens. Lord, please help me get through this.

I staggered on and finished the run. Maybe I had some fight in me after all.

I started running five days a week. Not far, just a few miles each time. But enough that my body began to respond. Sometimes Kristina and I ran together. She could tell I was feeling better, but like any big sister, she still worried.

She was thrilled when I entered the National Marathon in D.C. the following spring. Among the race sponsors was an organization that raised money for cancer research.

“I’m doing this for Mom,” I told Kristina. “I want to help raise money for cancer research.”

“Let me be the first to write you a check,” she said.

I finished in three hours, 26 minutes, a decent time. But that didn’t explain why I was glowing on the inside. I’d raised nearly two thousand dollars for cancer research. Kristina was waiting for me at the finish line. “You okay?” she asked.

“I can’t tell you how great I feel,” I said, a smile unfolding across my face. I just wanted to keep running.

I left the insurance business and found a part-time job at a running store. The rest of the time, I trained. I ran the Country Music Marathon, the Marine Corps Marathon, the Walt Disney World Marathon. The Boston Marathon.

I signed up for a new challenge: a 100-mile ultramarathon in Texas. No matter how well-conditioned you are, you’ll get to a point in these extreme endurance races where you think, I can’t go another step. You see other people passing you, and you wonder, How on earth are they pushing on?

I hit that point at mile 35. There I was, on a lonely country trail, nothing but scrub brush and mesquite around me. Every part of my body screamed. It hurt just to take in a single breath. Out of reflex more than anything, I started praying.

I can’t explain what happened next. It was like my entire being shifted. My aching legs, my raw feet, my constricted breathing…I let that all go and focused my thoughts, my energy, on praying.

I said prayers in my mother’s memory. I asked for strength to move on with my life, for blessings for family and friends, for a dozen different things. Next thing I knew, I was crossing the finish line.

I’d been praying so intently, I forgot about time! I forgot about the pain my body was in. I even forgot about the sadness that had shadowed me for months. It was just me and God and the road ahead.

By the time I completed my second ultramarathon, in February 2010, I’d made up my mind what to do next: run across the country, the whole country, from the Pacific Ocean to the Atlantic. Sounds crazy, I know. But I prayed about it and it felt right. Really.

I quit my job, took my savings and moved in with an aunt and uncle in Arizona, and began intensive training. I researched the equipment I’d need and plotted out a route.

I decided to use a jogging stroller to hold my sleeping bag and tent, first-aid supplies, water and food. I picked towns where I wanted to stop, then figured out how to get from one place to the next. I chose Oceanside, California, as my starting point.

I had family in Phoenix and Oklahoma City. South Bend, Indiana, was home to Notre Dame. Kristina and my brother, Dave, lived in Alexandria, Virginia. Two teammates from Holmdel High School in New Jersey would join me for a short stretch there. I’d drop by Sayville, New York, where a friend owned a runners’ shop.

I planned to finish at Smith Point, New York, a journey of 3,700 miles.

I needed something to run for. I thought about collecting donations for a cause, but I wouldn’t be able to raise enough to make a significant difference.

Praying for myself and for family and friends carried me through an ultramarathon, but that was only 100 miles. I’d run out of things and people to pray for before I crossed California.

That’s when it hit me. What if I collect prayer requests along the way? From people all over the world, through Facebook? I can pray while I run. Prayers for others will be my fuel.

That was my intention as I hit the road in Oceanside on January 20 last year. But 160 miles later, in the Imperial Sand Dunes, all I could think was, I’ll never make it out of this desert. The sun blazed. My feet felt like they were being barbecued on the superheated highway.

The jogging stroller I was pushing felt like a Mack truck. The landscape was desolate—cactus, scrub brush, sand. I could barely bend my left leg, but I knew if I stopped to rest, it would lock up.

The desert stretched ahead for another 75 miles. I pushed on. An 18-wheeler roared by, practically blowing me off the road. I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts.

I fired up my cell phone and checked my Facebook page. It had been a full day since I’d spoken to anyone. Right now I could use a little inspiration from a friend. Instead, I found dozens and dozens of messages from strangers. Each one was a prayer request.

They came from across the U.S. and all over the world: Poland, Italy, El Salvador, Spain, France, Australia, Indonesia, Chile, Panama. People asked that I pray for them to find jobs, for ailing loved ones, for the birth of a healthy baby.

One struck close to home. A man in Canada wrote, “Please pray that I might have strength to survive my failing marriage.”

I put my right hand on my heart and began to pray. I prayed for the Canadian man, for an Italian woman whose mother had cancer, for everyone who had sent their requests my way. Lord, let them know your peace, I prayed.

My own pain and worries, everything that had been weighing me down the past few years, fell away. It was like mile 35 in that first ultramarathon, only deeper, more intense. Just me and God and the peace and joy that only he can bring.

I never again doubted that I would complete my cross-country run. It took from January 20 to May 20. Afterward, I returned to Arizona, where I now split my time working at a running store and working with third graders as a teacher’s assistant.

Of course I’m still running. And praying. And looking forward to the road ahead.

Don't miss Jeff's narrated slideshow featuring images from his cross-country adventure.

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