Grief 2 Growth is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.

“Would you like to pray with me?”

The officer asked gently as we walked Shayna’s body out of our home. She hadn’t yet been officially pronounced dead. But I knew. I had already been praying—no, begging—for hours. Screaming. Bargaining. Pleading. I had poured everything I had into the heavens, hoping it might shift something, reverse something, bring her back.

But in that moment, I had nothing left. No words. No hope that prayer could change what already was.

I simply said no.

What We Were Taught

Growing up, I was taught that prayer was asking God to do things for us. Help us. Heal us. Guide us. Protect us. The model was always the same: I ask, God decides. The posture was one of smallness—me on my knees, God in the sky, holding the outcomes in His hands.

It seemed simple enough. But even then, I noticed something strange. In every sporting event, people on both sides prayed for victory. Half of them walked away disappointed. People prayed for healing. Some were healed. Some died. Was God just picking favorites?

As I got older, I saw it more clearly: most of our prayers are shaped by our preferences. We ask for what we think is best, assuming we know what that is. And when it doesn’t happen? We’re left confused, disillusioned—or worse, feeling unseen.

The Moment That Broke the Old Model

When we arrived at the hospital, the chaplain came to speak with us. Before he delivered the news that Shayna wasn’t going to survive, he wanted to pray with us.

He asked for God’s will to be done.

And I wanted nothing to do with that prayer.

I didn’t want peace. I wanted resurrection. I wanted my daughter. I didn’t want to surrender—I wanted a miracle. At that moment, I realized how hollow prayer can feel when it’s reduced to a formula: ask, submit, accept.

Because when the stakes are life and death, those words—“God’s will”—can feel like a dagger.

“I’ll Pray for You” (But Will You Show Up?)

People often say, “I’ll pray for you,” and I know it’s meant with kindness. For some, it’s a sincere offering of love. For others, though, it becomes a way to avoid the discomfort of doing.

It’s easier to pray for world peace than to face our own anger. Easier to say “thoughts and prayers” after a tragedy than to take action that might prevent the next one. We outsource responsibility to God as if He is the only one with agency here. People pray, asking God why he allows so much suffering. I hear his answer: “Why do you?”

When someone is suffering, my first instinct isn’t to pray. It’s to ask: What can I do?

Because sometimes, you are the answer to someone else’s prayer.

A Different Kind of Prayer

Do I have a prayer life now?

That’s not an easy question to answer. I don’t ask for things anymore. Not in the way I used to. I suppose if I were in a desperate situation again, I might find myself whispering some ancient plea—because, as they say, there are no atheists in foxholes. I’m not above begging if pushed.

But these days, I’m less interested in changing the outcome and more focused on aligning with what is.

I still have preferences. Of course I do. I would give anything to have Shayna back. But I’ve also learned that clinging to outcomes can keep us from seeing the sacredness in what’s already unfolding, even when it hurts, even when it breaks you.

So no, I don’t pray the way I used to. But I trust in something deeper.

That whatever comes, I will be okay.

That there is meaning in the mess, even when I can’t see it.

That everything is always okay in the end—and if it’s not okay, it’s not the end.

What If Prayer Isn’t About Getting?

What if prayer isn’t about getting what we want?

What if it’s about becoming who we need to be?

Becoming the kind of people who don’t just plead for light— but carry it. Who don’t just beg for peace but embody it. Who don’t wait for miracles—but make room for them.

The next time you find yourself praying for someone, ask yourself:What else can I do?Where can I show up, speak up, or step in?What if I’m the answer I’ve been waiting for?

Who needs to hear this? Share it with them.

Grief 2 Growth is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.

This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit grief2growth.substack.com/subscribe

This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit grief2growth.substack.com/subscribe