Have Your Prayers Become Too Safe?
I’ve been thinking lately about the way we pray. Not whether we pray, how long we pray, or whether we use the right words. I’ve been wondering if somewhere along the way, our prayers have simply become too safe.
One of my favorite books on prayer is Dangerous Prayers by Craig Groeschel. I’ve always been drawn to the idea of praying prayers that stretch our faith and move beyond rehearsed words, forcing us to confront what we actually believe about the God we are talking to.
Every time I think about bold prayer, my mind goes back to a cold, rainy day in Israel.
Standing in the Region of a Bold Prayer
It was my second trip to Israel, and, simply put, we weren’t packed well. It was cold enough that at one point during the trip we abandoned the original plan long enough to find a mall and buy warmer clothes. We simply weren’t prepared for the temperatures we encountered.
Then came one particular day when we found ourselves standing in the region associated with one of the boldest prayers recorded in Scripture.
Joshua was in the middle of battle when he prayed something that, even thousands of years later, sounds almost unbelievable:
“Sun, stand still at Gibeon, and moon, in the Valley of Aijalon.” Joshua 10:12, ESV
Joshua needed more daylight to finish the battle, so he asked God to stop the sun. There was no small request and no hedging. Joshua looked at an impossible situation and made an impossible request of a God for whom nothing is impossible.
Scripture goes on to say:
“There has been no day like it before or since, when the LORD heeded the voice of a man, for the LORD fought for Israel.” Joshua 10:14, ESV
Standing in that general area was surreal. We knew the battle described in Joshua had unfolded there, and there was something incredible about realizing we were walking through a place connected to such extraordinary faith.
There was just one problem. We were freezing, and then the rain started.
Not a light drizzle either. We were getting hammered.
Our group pulled in tighter and tighter around our guide, partly because we were trying to hear him, but probably just as much because we were hoping the person beside us might block some of the wind. Eventually, we could barely focus on what was being said, and the conversation started turning toward throwing in the towel. Maybe this stop just wasn’t going to work. Maybe we needed to get back on the bus, warm up, and move on.
Then our in-country guide said something I'll never forget.
He was Jewish and did not share our Christian faith, but he essentially challenged us: You are standing in the place where your Bible says someone once demonstrated extreme faith and prayed a bold prayer. Why don’t you pray to your God and ask Him to stop the wind and rain so we can finish?
Ouch.
There we were, a group of Christians standing in the region associated with one of the boldest prayers in Scripture, and it took someone who didn’t share our Christian faith to challenge us to pray like we believed our own Bible.
So we did.
Nothing elaborate or theatrical. We simply gathered together and passionately made our request known to God. Lord, we want to learn. We want to experience this place. Would You stop the wind and rain long enough for us to finish?
We prayed, and when we opened our eyes, the rain had stopped over us.
I know how that sounds. I was standing there, and I still remember trying to process it. The rain continued in the surrounding area, but where we were standing, it was as though a dome had formed over our group. We finished our discussion, gathered our things, and eventually made our way back to the bus before the weather continued.
I remember thinking, Wow. Look at our God.
But the older I get, the more I realize the greatest lesson from that moment wasn’t that God stopped the rain.
It was that we almost never asked.
Maybe We’ve Learned to Pray Safely
I wonder how many of us do the same thing, especially as men.
We see the problem and immediately begin analyzing it. We strategize, work harder, call somebody, run the numbers, replay every possible scenario in our minds, and try everything we know to do. Then, after we’ve exhausted our options, we finally say something like, “Well, I guess all we can do now is pray.”
All we can do?
Think about what we’re saying. Prayer has somehow become the option we turn to when we've run out of better ones.
Maybe part of the problem is that we have confused maturity with independence. When you're a child, you ask your father for everything. As you grow, you naturally become more independent. That's healthy human development, but I'm not convinced spiritual maturity works the same way.
The longer I walk with God, the less convinced I am that I can do anything of eternal significance without Him.
As men, many of us naturally want to provide, protect, solve, build, lead, and fix. Those aren't bad instincts, but competence becomes dangerous when it produces independence from God. Maybe spiritual maturity isn't needing God less. Maybe it's becoming increasingly aware of how desperately we need Him.
There may be another reason our prayers become safe too.
Some of us have been disappointed.
You've prayed before. You've asked God to heal someone, restore something, save the marriage, reach the child, open the door, or provide the breakthrough, and what happened wasn't what you asked for. Somewhere along the way, without ever consciously deciding to, you started protecting yourself.
You still pray. You just don't ask for much anymore.
Because if I never really ask, I never have to wrestle with what happens if God says no.
Sometimes safe prayers aren't evidence of small faith. They're evidence of a guarded heart.
Yet Scripture gives us a radically different invitation:
“Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.” Hebrews 4:16, ESV
Think about the picture Scripture gives us. There is a throne. There is a King. Yet somehow, because of Jesus, you and I have been invited into the room.
We don't kick the door down because we deserve to be there. Jesus opened it.
And now God tells us to come with confidence.
Bold Prayer does Not Guarantee Outcomes
This is where we have to be careful, because bold prayer isn't a formula for getting God to do whatever we want. God isn't a genie in a bottle, and faith isn't the currency we use to purchase miracles.
Joshua prayed, and the sun stood still. We prayed, and the rain stopped.
But Paul prayed, and the thorn remained.
Three times Paul pleaded with God to remove it, and God's response wasn't the answer Paul requested:
“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” 2 Corinthians 12:9, ESV
Then there is Jesus in Gethsemane:
“My Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as you will.” Matthew 26:39, ESV
Jesus didn't pretend He didn't have a desire. He didn't disguise what He wanted under spiritual language. He asked clearly and honestly, and then He surrendered the answer to His Father.
Maybe that's what bold prayer really looks like:
Ask without reservation. Surrender without qualification.
Boldness isn't confidence that God will do exactly what I ask. Boldness is confidence that I am welcome to ask.
That means the boldest prayer in your life may not be asking God to stop the sun or hold back the rain. It might be asking God to save your son, restore your marriage, free you from something you've hidden, give you the courage to confess, change something inside of you, or send you wherever He wants.
Bold doesn't necessarily mean spectacular.
Sometimes bold simply means unguarded.
What Have You Stopped Asking For?
Jesus said:
“If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father who is in heaven give good things to those who ask him!” Matthew 7:11, ESV
So before you move on with your day, I want you to sit with one question:
What have you stopped asking God for?
Not what do you need. You probably already know that.
What did you once bring before God passionately that you have slowly stopped mentioning? Maybe it's your marriage, your children, a family member who doesn't know Jesus, healing, freedom, direction, or a calling you've buried. Maybe you've carried something for so long that you've quietly decided this is simply how things are going to be.
Bring it back into the throne room.
Not because God owes you the outcome you want. Not because saying the right words will manipulate His hand. Not because enough faith guarantees the miracle.
Bring it back because your Father has invited you to come.
Ask specifically. Ask passionately. Ask expectantly. Then trust Him completely with the answer.
Thousands of years ago, Joshua looked toward the sun and asked. Years later, a cold group of Christians standing in Israel looked toward a storm and almost didn't.
Sometimes I wonder how much we never bring before God simply because we've convinced ourselves not to ask.
Men, may we never become so independent, so guarded, so disappointed, or so comfortable that we lose the confidence to approach our Father.
The throne is a throne of grace. Jesus has opened the door. You've been invited into the room.
Don't pray like you're intruding. Pray like you're welcome.
