“Don’t bargain with God. Be direct. Ask for what you need.” Matthew 7:7 (MSG).

Some prayers are loud. While others are just like quiet footsteps, faithful to the end, I’ve discovered.

Most prayers that have saved me weren’t always dramatic. They were walked. One step at a time. The same path. The same words. Through snow. Through mudpuddles.  Through pain, rain or shine. Fatigue or clarity. Prayer didn’t always change my circumstances, or even my mind—but it changed my soul. And with the help of Jesus, I know now I am strong enough to keep going. 

There is power in praying the same prayer again and again. In spilling your coffee and asking for more strength. Even for more caffeinated faith. Filler up, Jesus, we say, half- joking and half-desperate, both. 

We assume the healing will be instant sometimes, with our inside clock chiming and noisy, waking us up at 3a.m. demanding answers.  I hear it friends, do you? It is the unsettled soul. Sometimes a hurried and weary soul. Often, though, it’s the peaceful invitation of the Holy Spirit reminding us: Ask. Pray. Stay.

The Value of Permanence

There is authority in staying. There is faith in still asking. I’ve seen them—just so many—miracles.

A miracle took place with my daughter’s healing of a deadly brain tumor. Does she still carry it? Yes. Does she still struggle and take sick days? Yes. But the healing came, slowly, repeatedly, and life stayed. Hope held on. Light held back the dark like a set of outstretched fingers. Holy and upside-down, healing comes. Although, we step into healing slowly. rarely instantly. But healing happens in the faith to keep moving forward, even when we can’t see beyond the diagnosis, stress, job loss, cancer, or addiction. My family is a walking testament to this truth! Jesus, we still believe YOU!  

And maybe that’s why Jesus knew we would need permission to keep asking. He knew we would grow tired, exhausted, really. And that we would wonder if our prayers still mattered, that we would be tempted to ask once and then walk away. 

Yet, He told us plainly: 

“Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you.” (Matthew 7:7).

Asking AND Believing

Not ask once. Not ask politely and move on. Ask like someone who believes the door belongs to their Father. That He actually heals all. Like someone who trusts that He is listening. Like someone who knows love lives on the other side. 

The power of prayer has never been in my perfect words. Obviously. Or a polished tone as I huff through the miles and wear the path thin. The power, really, is in who I am asking. Jesus does not roll His eyes at repetition the way our teenagers once did. He welcomes it. He knows some prayers have to be lived into. Because He walked this cold earth Himself, step after step, so far from heaven, and He trusted, He asked.

So we keep walking.

We keep asking. 

Because Jesus never said, “Ask once and hope for the best.” He said, “Keep asking.” And He meant it.

God never intended us to walk alone.

No Solo Trips

For many years now my prayer partner, Monica Schmelter, and I have prayed together faithfully. We don’t quit when it rains. We don’t quit when it storms. No. We simply raise our voices for each other through the noise and trust the Spirit to do what we cannot. That kind of prayer partnership is a gift from God Himself. Another soul willing to pace the chaos with you, and speak faith when you are tired. Someone urging you to keep praying when you are tempted to give up, to keep going through. 

I remind myself how Jesus once said to His disciples, “Let us go across to the other side.” (Mark 4:35). He didn’t promise calm seas. He promised presence. throughness. And somedays I don’t have words of my own to get me through. So I borrow His. Scripture becomes my prayer. I pray, praise, and ask with Scripture and God’s promises. Not because God needs reminding, but because I do. I’m not trying to persuade heaven, I’m simply learning to agree with it. even when the storm rose, the outcome was already spoken. The walk and the crossing were never pointless. Because the other side and shore is already there, waiting. You just may not see it today, that’s all. 

Holy Spirit prayer is like that, too, I think. It keeps moving like water that’s hard to see. It keeps trusting beyond comprehension, igniting what looks like ashes and turning worn ground into soil ready for new life. 

“Let it go and watch it grow,” I talk to myself on the third lap around in prayer. We will make it to the other side, asking. Amen.