Per My Last Prayer

So I prayed about this job. Not just a casual, “Hey God, do Your thing,” but one of those serious, full-body surrender type of prayers. You know—the kind where you’re kneeling like you’re auditioning for the final scene in a biblical epic. I said, “God, if this is meant for me, open the door wide. If not… gently close it with clarity, kindness, and a polite rejection email. Maybe even a link to other opportunities. You know, professional courtesy.”

Silence.

No email. No call. No burning bush. Not even a typo-riddled recruiter message on LinkedIn. I waited, fasted (accidentally, because I ran out of coffee and forgot to eat), and nothing.

So I started getting dramatic. Like, spiritual-romcom levels of dramatic.

I’m pacing around my apartment, saying things like:

“God, I know You heard me. You parted the Red Sea, surely You can part the ATS system at TechCore Digital Solutions.”

Days passed. My faith was being tested and my Wi-Fi signal even more so.

Still… no word.

Then one night, I have a dream.

I’m sitting in a weird celestial cubicle farm—clouds for floors, harps as ambient noise, and one very organized angel at a standing desk. And there’s God, in a white robe and AirPods, scrolling through a massive inbox labeled “Prayer Requests: Urgent + Needy.”

He looks at me and says,

“Hey Alex… check your spam.”

I woke up like I had just seen a burning bush and a LinkedIn notification at the same time.

So the next morning—no joke—I open my laptop, click that little gray “Spam” folder I usually ignore unless I’m feeling nosy… and there it is.

An email.

Sent 11 days ago.

Subject: “Per our last communication…”

From: “noreply@youwerenevermeanttogetthis.com”

I almost baptized myself in my kitchen sink.

Apparently, they wanted to schedule an interview. “Wanted.” Past tense.

I missed it. The door didn’t just close gently—it ghosted me with a smile.

Moral of the story?

God answers prayers.

Sometimes the answer is “yes,” sometimes it’s “no,”

and sometimes it’s,

“You didn’t check your spam folder, my child.”

Lesson learned. God works in mysterious ways… and occasionally in Gmail filters.