The Sacred Weariness of Prayer
(Today’s Scripture focus is found in Genesis 27-28.)
A reminder about prayer: it is our paramount joy-job—the sacred work in which the Lord graciously invites us to participate with Him. What an honor that the God of the universe chooses to involve us in His purposes through prayer.
And yet, while prayer is simple at its core—a conversation with God—it can also be deeply wearisome.
That tension brings to mind how often Jesus used the word persevere when He spoke about prayer and faith.
(Luke 11: 5-13, “because of his shameless audacity, he will surely get up and give what you need.”)
Per means “through, completely, all the way.”
Severe refers to something intensely unpleasant, something that can produce strain, anxiety, or fear.
Put together, perseverance suggests pressing all the way through something difficult without quitting. No wonder the early church fathers and mothers spoke of “praying through” their trials. They understood that faithful prayer often requires endurance. Still, let’s be honest—keeping on in prayer can feel tedious and discouraging.
I’m afraid I often stop short. I give up before I ever see the answer.
How small my faith feels in reality.
As I bring my requests before the Lord—especially for the generations who will follow me—I long for a faith that perseveres. I want to pray with endurance, not resignation. This week, I’ve been freshly reminded just how essential perseverance is when we set our hearts on praying for something specific.
While reflecting on the early life of Jacob, I jotted down a few takeaways.
Jacob. Oh my.
His sins fit his name perfectly—supplanter, deceiver. Add liar and thief to the list, and the picture becomes even clearer. Yet there is so much to learn from his story.
First, Jacob did not pretend to have a faith he didn’t possess. When speaking to his father Isaac, he referred to the Lord as “your God.” What a gift that honesty was to Isaac and Rebekah. Jacob didn’t hide behind their faith or borrow their language to appear righteous. He didn’t act like a believer in one setting and someone else in another. His parents knew exactly where he stood—and therefore exactly how to pray for him.
They also knew how to pray because their own DNA ran through his veins. Much of who Jacob was, they were. Seeing ourselves in our children and grandchildren fuels our prayers. When I recognize my own weaknesses mirrored in those who come after me, it makes me want to pray my “bad” right out of them. Isaac and Rebekah understood perseverance well. Scripture tells us Isaac prayed twenty years—twenty years—for a child. He was willing to pray through.
Second, somewhere around Bethel, the house of God, it becomes clear that Jacob—like those who follow after us—was on a unique, personal journey toward faith. It was slow, often measured in inches rather than miles, and full of mystery and reaping the consequences of his own sins. God still had much refining to do before Jacob could step fully into the covenant promises given to Abraham and Isaac.
Even after encountering God and His angels, Jacob tried to bargain: “If You bless me, then the Lord will be my God.” His heart wasn’t ready yet. It would take many more years—and eventually a wrestling match with God Himself—before true, life-changing faith took root. Thank goodness Jacob’s early life was not the end of his story.
In the meantime, this much is certain: God was with Jacob. His plans were never thwarted. His promises were fulfilled. And by grace, I am part of that lineage of faith.
So yes—there is every reason to persevere in prayer. And won’t it be an ebullient moment when we see, firsthand, how God used those steadfast supplications? How many “Jacobs” might we pray into the Kingdom? I’ve gotten a late start.
God of our journey, grant us patience with the journey of those who follow after us, and a heart that will persevere in prayer for those we love to find their way straight to your loving heart.
Amen.