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Nov 23, 2025 06:00am

Stubborn Prayer

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Just imagine this scenario: People are talking about you—and not in a good way. They are spreading lies about you, judging you, and spewing hate about you. Out of the blue, those closest to you have now become your opponents. These are people whom you have been good to and even loved. You feel angry, hurt, and most of all, betrayed.

And God is silent.

It’s not fun to imagine this, is it? No one wants to be in this situation in life, and yet, many of us have been. No one is immune to the sting of betrayal—even people in the Bible.

The above scenario came straight from the life of a man who wrote a psalm about it: David.

In Psalm 109, David doesn’t mince words as he pours out his feelings to God. He feels wronged and hurt. He doesn’t want personal revenge—he’s begging God for divine justice. In this vulnerable writing, David doesn’t sugarcoat his pain. He pours all of his ugly and harsh feelings out before God, but right there in the middle of his complaining, he makes a declaration of faith: “But I continue to pray” (Psalm 109:5).

It’s like he’s reminding himself not to give up in petitioning God’s intervention. He knew he didn’t have to have a well-worded prayer or even a pretty-sounding one—his prayer came out in his brokenness and questions.

Friends, I don’t know how this resonates with you, but I take immense comfort in it. I don’t have to be fake when going to God. I can be real in my prayers and share every ugly and fleshly feeling.

Years ago, I had a challenging situation with a student who had a meltdown in front of me. It was raw, loud, and ugly. It left me so angry at the things that the student screamed at me. I didn’t know how I could continue teaching this teenager without feeling bitterness in my heart. It was then that God challenged me to pray for this person.

Pray for her? I was perplexed! That was the last thing I wanted to do. Thoughts like expulsion, OSS, ISS, and detention felt very appropriate for her behavior. And yet, the Holy Spirit kept nudging me. I’ve walked long enough with the Lord to know that He required my obedience on this, and I was desperate enough to say, “Fine, I’ll do it,” I thought begrudgingly. At first, my prayers were for God’s holy spanking to come down on her to make her sorry for what she did to me. My prayers may have even begun with something like, “Get her, God! Make her pay for what she said to me!” They seeped with calls for justice and punishment.

But, like David, I continued to pray. I kept praying . . . and praying . . . and praying. Weeks turned to months of my broken, angry prayers.

It was, without a shadow of a doubt, one of the hardest people I have ever prayed for. In petitioning God for this child, I felt desperate, and as Matthew 5:3 puts it, “poor in spirit.” I had always wondered why Jesus called these people “blessed” for feeling this way, because I sure wasn’t feeling blessed in this situation. I came across another translation for this verse that opened my eyes to the power of being “poor in spirit”—it wasn’t a bad thing at all. The Contemporary English Version (CEV) translation words it this way: “God blesses those people who depend only on him . . . .” It turns out that spiritual poverty is a good thing. It’s when we turn to God with broken prayers and struggling faith—with strong feelings and petitions—that create in us a hunger and thirst for God. It’s when we cleave to him in seemingly hopeless situations. It’s when we don’t know what we will do if He doesn’t intervene. It’s when He becomes our liferaft in a tumultuous and stormy sea.

David knew this well. Whether he was in the valley or on the mountain, he looked to God. He leaned upon God. He thirsted for God. In Psalm 109, he even declared that he was “poor and needy” (verse 22). I think God used David’s spiritual poverty to tender his heart, molding him to become a man after God’s own heart.

Priscilla Shirer said, “Prayer becomes less of what we want and more about who He is.” That, friends, is what spiritual poverty can do to you. Looking back on this time, I feel that is what the Lord was doing with mine as well. He was using this testing time in life to create a heart that yearned for God’s love and mercy. He was softening my prideful heart to make it humble and have compassion on this mean girl. He was using His silence to prompt me to surrender to Him and His will with her.

Throughout the school year, this teen’s attitude toward me remained unchanged, but mine slowly shifted. Bit by bit, rays of kindness broke through the bitterness. My prayers began to reflect what God wanted for this teen rather than what I wanted. I prayed for this girl’s salvation. I prayed for moments we could come together and connect. And, the hardest prayer of all, I prayed for God’s favor for her. Oh yes, I was poor in spirit for months as I appealed to God for this child.

And one day, out of the blue, many months later, this student came to me to get work for missing a class. As we reviewed for a test together, she said: “You know, I was really angry last year. I am sorry for what I said to you.”

That was it . . . and she moved on. It was quick, but I felt it in the depths of my heart. I knew that was a blessing straight from God’s mercy seat. The funny thing was, without realizing it, I had already forgiven her through the process of praying for her, and I received it with love and gratitude.

Some of the dearest lessons we learn in life come through tears, prayers, and spiritual poverty—and this was one of them for me. And it was one of the best lessons I learned because God gave me a new heart for this teen and a renewed perspective for any difficult student (or person) who came my way later.

Stubborn prayer changes our circumstances. It changes other people. And it changes us in the process.

That’s when we become men and women after God’s own heart.