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I'm reminded of a joke, so I'll paraphrase it:
There's this guy on some inhospitable, tiny-ass piece of land. Picture the Farside "desert island", where you could maybe fit a lawn chair on it. So, he's praying to God to help him and all that. After a while, a canoe floats by, but he just stays there praying. So the canoe floats off again, because of the currents and tides and whatnot.
An hour or so later, a big motorboat goes by the island. Now, this guy's still in fairly good shape. He could probably jump around, get their attention, wait for them to drop anchor and then swim over, whatever. But he just sits there praying.
After a while one of those search and rescue helicopters comes by. It hovers over the island, tries to get the guy to come up the ladder or whatever, but he's too busy praying. He just sort of glares at them, one of those "fuck off, man. Can't you see I'm praying?" looks.
Now, this is a hot island, and the guy was sorely dehydrated to begin with. It took a few hours each between the canoe, the boat, and then the helicopter. He died. Once he got to heaven (he was a fairly decent guy, never beat the wife or kids) and went through the admissions process, he gave God a thorough talking to:
"What the hell, man? I was down there praying for, like, five hours! Why didn't you save me?"
And so God's all, "dude, I did my half."
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