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"Pray without ceasing."
—1 Thessalonians 5:17 (KJV)
I remember reading that verse and feeling like I was already behind. Without ceasing? Lord, I can barely focus for two minutes before my mind goes to the items that need to go on the grocery list or to tomorrow's meeting I must prepare for. Now I'm supposed to pray without stopping?
Prayer is something I've always wanted to be good at. I love the Lord. I believe He hears me. But if I'm being honest— I wish I had it all together here, but I don’t... I sit down to pray, and suddenly my mind is chasing a hundred other thoughts. I feel like I repeat myself, or I only come to God when I need something. And then I feel guilty… which somehow makes me pray even less.
It’s not that I don't want to pray. It's that I don’t always know how to pray in a way that feels personal, not performative. I want it to be a conversation with my Father, but too often, it turns into a checklist. Did I pray for this person? Did I thank Him for that? Did I cover all the bases?
Real Prayer Isn’t Polished—It’s Present
Somewhere along the way, I started thinking that prayer had to sound a certain way to count. Oh, and please don't ask me to pray out loud in front of people. That alone is enough to break me into a sweat. I've heard women pray with such grace—so eloquent, so steady, remembering every name, every Scripture, every detail. Meanwhile, I’m over here trying to remember what I was even going to say, wondering if I'll mess it up or sound silly. But scripture reminds me repeatedly, God isn’t comparing my prayers to anyone else’s. He's not waiting on polished words—He's listening for my heart. (1 Samuel 16:7, James 5:16, Psalm 145:18)
When I think about what real prayer looks like, I often think of Daniel. The Bible tells us that he prayed three times a day, every day, even when it became illegal. He wasn't trying to impress anyone. He was just faithfully showing up before God. That quiet commitment inspires me—not because it was perfect, but because it was consistent. Steady. Honest.
And then there's David, who poured out every emotion—joy, anger, grief, worship—in the Psalms. He didn't hide his mess. He brought it to God, raw and unfiltered. That, too, was prayer. And it reminds me that I can come as I am. Tired. Distracted. Unsure of what to say. The Lord is not asking me to pray better. He's inviting me to pray more authentically.
What "Pray Without Ceasing" Actually Means
I've started noticing the little moments where prayer naturally fits—not just the morning quiet time, but in the laundry room, while driving to work, during those few silent seconds before a tough conversation. Prayer can be whispered, silent, or it can even be one sentence, and it can still move Heaven.
"Pray without ceasing" doesn't mean we have to be speaking nonstop. It means we stay in communication with the One who loves us most. Our hearts turned toward Him as we move through our day. Like a friend (for me a cousin sister) we keep on the line, even when we’re not talking out loud.
If prayer has felt hard or distant or awkward lately, you're not the only one. But I want you to know—there’s no shame here. No spiritual report card. Just an open invitation to come close again.
A Few Ways to Begin Again
Here are a few things we can try that help build the rhythm of prayer back into our lives:
And if all you can say is "Jesus, help me…" That’s enough.
This week, let’s stop worrying about whether our prayers are long enough, deep enough, or spiritual enough—and just start talking to God again. Like daughters who know their Father is listening.
Reflection Questions
Next Week: Fellowship
We’ll explore what it really means to show up for one another—even when it’s inconvenient—and how that kind of faithfulness is a spiritual discipline that strengthens us all.