You have that friend that miscarried her baby. And she doesn’t know, your heart aches for her all the time.
She doesn’t see your eyes well with tears, when you think of her.
She doesn’t hear you, when you whisper a prayer for her.
“God, heal her womb.
Your whispers are so quiet, she can’t hear them.
But God hears.
And they matter.
You have that friend that can’t conceive. The one that is trying.
And doctor’s don’t know why–she can’t. Or how long it will be.
And you think of her in her waiting. You think of her months that feel like years, and her years that feel like centuries. Because just as the Proverb says, “A hope deferred, makes the heart sick.” And you feel like if anyone on earth should have this blessing–it would be her. And she would be the most amazing mom. And if only you could give her the miracle her heart longs for–you would. But you can’t.
So you give her what you can: your whispers. Your prayers.
“God, open her womb.
Open her arms.
Please bring Your life there.”
You have that friend with the high-risk pregnancy. The one that has been prescribed bedrest. And you go and visit her while she in in “couch prison.” You go to make sure–she’s okay. You go to make sure that in her stillness–she doesn’t stagnate. You go to play with her toddler, and to make sure she doesn’t make her own peanut-butter and jelly sandwich. (Even though she wants to.) You go to paint her nails, and bring her flowers, and life. Because she needs it. And you know she would do the same for you. In a heartbeat.
Meanwhile, a fragile heartbeat is beating within her.
And as you drive home, you think of him, the one she is carrying. Of the tiny person, who God is forming in her. Needing her stillness and warmth.
And you let out a whisper,
“God, let this baby live.
(And months later, when you meet her baby boy, alive, and well, and with chubby cheeks and legs, you just can’t stop smiling and wiping away the tears. The answer to your whispered prayers.)
They are just whispers.
They are prayers so quiet, no one ever hears.
And we sometimes forget that: the words we whisper over the wombs of our friends matter.
They matter more than we will ever know on this side of heaven.
You know that friend of yours?
She needs your whispers today.
Even if she never hears them.
God hears them. And acts on behalf of them.
Prayer is His idea. He tells us to pray.
“Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective.” (James 5:16)
Powerful and effective.
Maybe your whispers do more than you think they do.
Maybe your prayers do more than you could ever possibly imagine.
Maybe if you could see (with your own eyes) the effects of your prayers–you would be praying all the time, and for everyone.
But often we can’t see–that’s the essence of faith.
“Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see.” (Hebrews 11:1)
Moses couldn’t see ahead of time how the Red Sea would part when an enemy army was right behind him–he just saw that he couldn’t go any further–so he prayed.
It was God’s job to make a way.
And He did.
We can’t always see how God is going to answer.
But He does answer. It’s not our job to figure out how, or when He is going to answer.
It’s our job to cry out to Him–like the Father He is.
And it’s our job to cry out for our friends–especially when they are too weary, and broken, and tired to cry out for themselves.
Don’t stop praying for her. She needs you.
And she needs your whispers.
They are powerful and effective.
Though she may never hear them,
God hears them.
And He is able
to do exceedingly and immeasurably more than all we could ask or imagine.
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