We tell all these beautiful stories of prayer. Elijah even prayed for the rain to stop: ¹⁷Elijah, for instance, human just like us, prayed hard that it wouldn’t rain, and it didn’t—not a drop for three and a half years. ¹⁸Then he prayed that it would rain, and it did. The showers came and everything started growing again.

Looking back on my life, it seems my prayers don’t extend much further than the ceiling. Sometimes, the courage simply runs out. Sometimes, the petrol to try and pray one more time just runs out.

Like Martin’s (not his real name):

Right now, I’m lying in bed with a cup of coffee, thinking: “But it’s not my job to balance the books; I just have to hold the pen. God does the rest.”

But I must confess, these last few weeks my faith has wavered, well, more than wavered. I stopped praying, and, yes, I am tired. Tired of living, tired of praying, tired of everything.

The year has taken its toll. I still read the Bible every morning and every night, but pray? I don’t know what to pray anymore.

The rumours at work have marked IT as: ‘NEEDS IMPROVEMENT’, and the repercussions of that are that there is no increase, no bonus, and on Friday came the blow: our medical aid allowance falls away. Everyone 55 and older gets letters with pathetic packages and is asked to leave.

It eats at me. Badly. And right there this morning, it hit me on the forehead, just before I could read the Bible: It’s not my job to balance the books. God will provide. He always has.

What bothers me is that I don’t know what to pray anymore; I’m literally prayed out. Everyone probably has at least something to pray for. My praying is done. I can say thank you, and I do. But my “ask” prayer has broken.

We have enough food and clothes and grace, but I lack a lot on the love side, God’s love. I miss the hugs and the holding and the “everything will be OK” …

Yes, it’s worldly goods, but the struggle to get to the Lord eats at me. It feels like I’ve taken a turn-off and just can’t get back because I don’t know how. I don’t know what to pray.

My prayer is done.

My heart breaks for Martin, but I see pictures from my past where my prayer was also done. At times like these, you must keep praying and believing like Elijah. Then you must sit right there at God’s feet and say: “My praying is done. Yes, my praying is completely done now.”

Scripture
Jakobus 5:13-20

Reflection
How far does your prayer go?
Is your prayer done, too?
Do you continue praying?

Prayer
Father, sometimes my prayer is done too. Sometimes I don’t know what to say. Hear my used words. In a way, I keep believing. Amen.