I Pray

Between the Roots has me thinking a lot about prayer. Not just the kind of prayer where I ask God for something. Not just praying for a better life, healing, provision, answers, or the things I hope will change. Those prayers matter, but prayer is bigger than that. Prayer is also giving thanks for everything God has already done for me. It is remembering the ways He carried me through things I did not think I would survive. It is noticing the doors He opened, the doors He closed, the strength He gave me, and the people He placed in my life when I needed them most. Sometimes prayer is not asking for something new. Sometimes prayer is sitting with God and saying, “Thank You for not leaving me.” I pray for others because I know people are carrying things I may never fully understand. Sometimes I do not know what to say. Sometimes I do not have the right words. Sometimes I do not even know what a person is really asking prayer for. But I pray anyway. Because God is not waiting for me to explain it perfectly. He already knows. Before the words leave my lips, God knows who I am praying for. He knows what they are carrying. He knows the wound behind the request, the fear they did not say out loud, and the hope they are barely holding onto. So I do not have to pray perfectly. I just have to bring them to Him. That has changed the way I see prayer. I used to think I needed the right words. I thought prayer had to sound strong, clear, and confident. But sometimes prayer is quieter than that. Sometimes it is simply standing beside someone in their pain and trusting that God understands the words neither of us can find. Sometimes I am the answer to someone else’s prayer. Not because I am special. Not because I know what I am doing. But because God can place me where someone needs love, encouragement, help, or a reminder that they are not alone. And sometimes they are the answer to mine. A word at the right time. A hand when I am tired. A prayer when I do not have the strength to pray for myself. A reminder that God still sees me. That is the beautiful mystery of prayer. We think we are only asking God to move, but sometimes He is already moving us. Toward each other. Toward healing. Toward hope. Toward Him. I pray through confusion too. When life does not make sense. When the answer does not come. When the door stays closed. When I am trying to understand why God seems to move one way for someone else, but feels silent in the place where I am asking Him to move for me. I still pray. Not because I always feel strong. Not because I always feel holy. Not because I always know what to say. I pray because somewhere deep in me, even when doubt gets loud, I still believe God is listening. I pray just to be near Him. Not only for a better life. Not only for healing. Not only for provision. Not only for the answer I hope will come. I pray because He is God. There are prayers I say with confidence, and there are prayers I whisper because I am not even sure I have the strength to believe them yet. Sometimes prayer feels powerful, like I am standing close to God and speaking from a place of faith. Other times, prayer feels like I am throwing words into the dark and hoping they land somewhere near heaven. But I still pray. Because maybe prayer is not always polished words and perfect faith. Maybe sometimes prayer is just the soul reaching for God when the body is too tired to stand. Between the Roots, I pray in the hidden places. In the quiet places. In the places where nobody sees the wrestling, the waiting, the tears, the questions, or the gratitude that slowly rises again. Because roots do not grow where everyone can see them. They grow in the dark. They grow under pressure. They grow where water has to be searched for. And maybe that is what prayer does in us. It reaches down. It holds on. It keeps searching for living water, even when the surface looks dry. Jesus prayed in the garden with sorrow heavy on Him. He did not pretend the pain was easy. He asked if the cup could pass from Him, but still trusted the Father. That gives me comfort. Because if Jesus prayed through anguish, then I do not have to hide mine. If Jesus brought His sorrow to the Father, then I can bring mine too. So I pray. For others. Through confusion. With thanksgiving. And sometimes, just to be near Him. Not always with answers. Not always with peace right away. Not always with the faith I wish I had. But I pray because God is still God when I am weak. He is still near when I feel far away. He is still listening when my words come out broken. And even when all I can do is sit in the dirt and whisper His name… the roots are still growing.