I’m noticing a growing desire among believers and those who aren’t certain if they still identify as believers: a longing to connect with God, or some form of spiritual connection, in ways that feel real and personal—and prayer is often where that longing gets stuck.
We reach for closeness, but old scripts, unspoken rules, and the fear that our words aren’t enough can freeze the conversation. I’ve felt this in my season of reconnecting with God after deconstruction and during seasons of exhaustion, when focusing on anything is a daunting task, prayer becomes next to impossible.
My Own Wrestling
In my prayer life, I’m relearning what it means to follow Jesus and connect with God. The old formulas don’t work the same way anymore.
For years, prayer carried expectations: say it right, stay focused, don’t let your mind wander. Which, of course, made my mind wander—and then the guilt settles in. Prayer becomes burdensome a chore-like. That thing you’ll never be good at but are supposed to be.

When I read “Where Prayer Becomes Real: How Honesty With God Transforms Your Soul” I was struck by the idea that maybe the wandering mind wasn’t the enemy of prayer—but instead it was the map to where prayer needed to go. If my thoughts keep circling to my kids, a conversation I’m dreading, a wound I haven’t dealt with, or even something as mundane as the bills, maybe those aren’t distractions. Maybe they’re indicators of where my heart is already living—and maybe God is already there, waiting for me to notice.
Distraction tries to pull prayer away from presence; attention invites prayer into the very place presence is needed. In Scripture, prayer often begins where life hurts or hopes, not where form is tidy.
The Ache Beneath the Silence
For many of us, the struggle isn’t that we don’t believe in prayer. It’s that we don’t know how to pray when our words feel inadequate, or when all we have is silence, or when we’re afraid that what we want to say isn’t “appropriate” for God.
That’s why songs like Leanna Crawford’s Honest resonate so deeply—they give voice to the awkward, stumbling moments:
“I try to pray, but the words just don’t come out the way they used to.”
I hear that line and think, Yes. That’s exactly it.
A Biblical Precedent for Rawness
The irony is that the Bible is full of prayers that sound nothing like the tidy, reverent ones we think we’re supposed to pray.
David rages (Psalm 13; Psalm 22). Job laments and questions (Job 3; Job 10). Jeremiah accuses and weeps (Lamentations 3). Even Jesus pleads for another way in Gethsemane (Matthew 26:39). What God meets in these moments is not polish, but presence—and God does not turn away.
What’s happening in those moments isn’t a polished presentation—it’s presence. They’re not trying to impress God; they’re simply showing up with what’s real.
An Invitation to Reframe Prayer
So maybe prayer isn’t about clearing our minds of distractions. Maybe it’s about paying attention to what’s already there.
Don’t fight the distracting thoughts—notice them. Name them before God as plainly as possible and see what happens.
- The frustration you feel when you can’t focus? Bring it.
- The worry that keeps you up at night? Pray it as it is.
- The random thought that interrupts your “quiet time”? Turn toward it, name it before God, and see where it leads.
- That thought about the 70 million dollar Loto Max jackpot this coming Friday? Pray about it, let God in on how you’d like to be rich, but also how you know that real hope and joy aren’t found in riches.
Prayer, in that sense, isn’t a perfect speech—it’s a conversation in progress. It’s the willingness to be known as you are, not as you think you should be.
A Next Step
If you’re feeling the ache to pray but don’t know how, try this:
Set a two-minute timer (or more if you want).
Inhale: ‘Here I am.’ Exhale: ‘Here You are.’ When a thought comes, let it, and speak it simply. When the timer ends, be thankful that God was right there with you in that moment, regardless of how many random thoughts you had!
Something along those lines! You do you!
You may find that God was already in those “distractions,” ready to meet you there.
Journaling Prompt:
“If I could say anything to God right now without fear, what would I say? What am I afraid might happen if I said it?”
Breath Prayer:
“God, here’s my heart—messy and true.”


What do you think?