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Rethinking Prayer

Why Prayer Often Feels Unanswered

by: Leon Harris

 

There are few things more discouraging to a believer than prayer that seems to go nowhere.

 

Many of us have prayed earnestly for things that matter deeply: relief from illness, freedom from addiction, reconciliation in a broken relationship, or simply a sense that God is near. We pray because we are told prayer is powerful. We pray because Scripture encourages it. And yet, more often than we care to admit, prayer can feel unanswered.

 

This can leave us wondering whether prayer works at all.

 

The discomfort often comes from an assumption we rarely examine—that prayer is meant to produce outcomes. That if we ask sincerely enough, often enough, or with enough faith, the thing we are asking for should come to pass. When it does not, disappointment sets in. Doubt follows close behind.

 

But prayer was never meant to function as a mechanism for getting what we want.

 

Scripture consistently affirms that God is sovereign—that His purposes are not shaped by our preferences, and His timing is not accelerated by our urgency. We often acknowledge this in theory. “God will give us what we need, not what we want,” we say. Yet when we pray, we sometimes act as though our desires should take precedence over His will.

 

Ecclesiastes speaks directly into this tension. “To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven” (Ecclesiastes 3:1). A few verses later we are reminded that God “has made everything beautiful in its time,” yet we are unable to fully grasp what He is doing from beginning to end (Ecclesiastes 3:11).

 

These verses do not suggest indifference on God’s part. They point instead to perspective. We see what is immediately before us; God sees the whole. There are forces at work beyond our awareness, purposes unfolding beyond our understanding. What feels like delay or denial may be part of a larger story we are not equipped to see.

 

This is where the phrase “turn it over to God” often enters our vocabulary. At its core, it refers to surrender—to releasing control over outcomes we cannot manage and trusting God where our understanding fails. If prayer becomes an effort to force a particular result, it is worth asking whether we are truly trusting God, or simply trying to influence Him.

 

Jesus Himself gives us the clearest picture of what prayer looks like when desire and surrender coexist.

 

In the garden of Gethsemane, facing suffering and death, Jesus prays: “My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from Me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as You will” (Matthew 26:39). He expresses His desire honestly. He does not deny His humanity. But He submits that desire to the Father’s will.

 

Scripture encourages us to ask, but it never promises that asking is a way to control outcomes.

 

This moment reveals something essential about prayer. It is not the suppression of desire, nor is it an attempt to override God’s plan. It is the act of placing our desires before Him while remaining willing to trust His wisdom when the answer is not what we hoped for.

 

This helps us understand what prayer is actually for.

 

Prayer exists primarily to nurture relationship. Like any relationship, it requires communication—not because God lacks information, but because intimacy is built through presence and honesty. God already knows what we are facing, just as a parent often knows when their child is struggling. Still, there is something meaningful about being invited to speak, to share, to be known.

 

In prayer, we are not only speaking to God; we are also learning about ourselves. What we bring before Him—our fears, frustrations, longings, and hopes—reveals where our trust is placed and where it is still forming.

 

Prayer also rightly turns us outward. When we pray for others, we give time and attention to someone else’s burden, often in moments when no one else is watching. Scripture tells us that “God is love” (1 John 4:8). To intercede for another person is to participate in that love and allows it to shape us. In doing so, we become more aware of God’s presence within us—not because He was absent before, but because our attention has shifted.

 

Seen this way, prayer becomes less about results and more about relationship.

 

It becomes a space where we speak honestly to God about where we are, what we fear, and what we do not understand. We ask for wisdom rather than control. We ask for strength rather than escape. We acknowledge the weight of temptation, suffering, and uncertainty without pretending we can manage them on our own.

 

Prayer is also a discipline of listening. God’s response does not always come in the form of a voice. More often, it comes through Scripture, through circumstances, or through the slow reshaping of our understanding. Discernment matters here. Any thought, impression, or direction we believe comes from God must be tested against what He has already revealed in His Word.

 

This is why Scripture repeatedly urges believers to be grounded in truth. Paul describes this as putting on the armor of God—truth, righteousness, faith, salvation, and the Word of God itself (Ephesians 6:10–18). Without that foundation, we have no reliable way to discern what aligns with God’s will and what does not.

 

When prayer is treated as a list of requests to be fulfilled, disappointment is almost inevitable. Expectations go unmet, and doubt begins to take root. But the failure is not prayer itself, nor is it God. The problem lies in misunderstanding what prayer is meant to be.

 

Prayer is not a transaction. It is a relationship.

 

It is a posture of trust, an act of surrender, and a way of remaining present with God even when answers are unclear and outcomes remain unresolved.

 

It’s just something to think about.