I never thought those words would become the very words I whispered about you.

Prayer doesn’t really work anyway.

Tongue in cheek.
Until it wasn’t.

Then the words of Jesus felt mocking.
Ask…
Seek…
Knock…

We asked.
We sought.
We knocked.
For your healing.
For your recovery.
For one more coffee at Starbucks.

The answer came.
No recovery.
Death

Somehow your life silenced all the usual explanations.
No one dared say…
God has a plan.
He’s in control.
He’s in a better place.

Can anyone sing It Is Well with My Soul beside fresh grief?

Prayer doesn’t really work anyway.

Perhaps prayer was never meant to make God say yes.

Perhaps asking, seeking, knocking was never about changing heaven but discovering it had already drawn near.

Not a transaction.
A presence.
Not an explanation.
A companion.

So I ask anyway.
Ask because Jesus said to.
Ask because the Biblical authors did.
Ask because the Church always has.

Ask for what is almost always given.
Not certainty.
Not escape.
Not even healing.

But no stone when bread is needed.
No scorpion when a child reaches out.
Presence.
Comfort.
Shalom.

A strange, stubborn wellness of soul.

Prayer doesn’t really work anyway.

And still,
the Spirit keeps meeting us there.

Photo by author