“Prayer Request To Go” at the drive-thru, A reminder that prayer isn’t a one way order window. (Monk & Martyr original image)
Most of us were taught to pray as if we’re giving a speech: show up, say the right words, ask for what we need, wrap it up with “amen,” and carry on. And then we wonder why it feels so quiet. Why it feels less like a conversation and more like leaving a voicemail.
What if the missing piece is painfully simple — We never stop long enough to listen?
Prayer Was Built For Conversation, Not Performance
Jeremiah 33:3 has always felt bold to me: “Call to me and I will answer you.” Answer implies response. Two-way. Not “call, unload your list, and sprint off to your next tab.”
A lot of us talk to God like He’s a suggestion box. But Scripture keeps painting Him as Father, friend, and guide. Real relationships have dialogue. They also have pauses.
And if we’re honest, we’ve been trained to “sound spiritual.” The fancy words, the religious voice, the scripted vibe. Meanwhile Psalm 62:8 says to “pour out your heart.” You don’t pour out your heart like you’re reading a resume. You do it like you’re speaking to someone who actually cares.
The Bible Is Full Of People Who Asked Questions
One reason I’m not afraid to bring my real thoughts to God is because the Bible is packed with messy, honest conversations.
Case in point, Abraham in Genesis 18. God reveals what’s coming for Sodom and Gomorrah, and Abraham leans in. He asks questions. He pushes back respectfully. “What if there are fifty righteous?” Then forty-five. Forty. Thirty. God responds every time. That’s not a silent universe. That’s a back-and-forth.
Or look at Gideon in Judges 6. He’s hiding, scared, and an angel calls him a mighty warrior. Gideon basically says, “If God’s with us, why does everything feel like it’s falling apart?” That question is raw. And God doesn’t shame him for it. He answers, gives direction, and even meets Gideon in his request for signs.
Then there’s Hannah in 1st Samuel 1. She prays so intensely Eli thinks she’s drunk. But the detail that grabs me is what happens after. She leaves with her face no longer downcast. The situation hasn’t changed yet, but something in her has. She received assurance. She walked out different. That’s the kind of prayer life I want.
So How Does God “Answer,” Practically?
Jesus says in John 10:27, “My sheep hear my voice.” Hearing can look like a few different things:
- A specific line of Scripture that won’t let go of you
- A conviction, correction, or nudge that feels clear and steady
- A door that opens or shuts in a way you can’t ignore
- A surprising sentence from a friend that lands like it was timed
- A peace that shows up without a logical reason
Psalm 5:3 says, “In the morning… I lay my requests before you and wait expectantly.” That last part matters. Waiting is a form of faith.
The Underrated Spiritual Discipline: Shutting Up
Here’s a challenge that sounds too small to matter, which usually means it matters a lot.
The next time you pray, after you say “amen,” stay put. Sixty seconds. No phone. No multitasking. Just quiet.
It will feel awkward. Your brain will tick off grocery lists, old arguments, and random memories from 2009. Let them pass. Keep showing up.
Even Jesus stepped away to pray (Luke 5:16). Not because He needed better Wi-Fi, but because attention is required for conversation.
A Simple “Talk With God” Rhythm You Can Actually Use
If you want structure without turning it into a script, try this:
Be honest. Tell God what’s real, not what sounds impressive. Ask one clear question. “What are you inviting me into today?” or “What am I missing here?” Read a short passage and respond to it. Pray Scripture back to Him. Write a few lines in a journal. Look for repeated themes over time. End with a minute of silence. Listen for what rises with clarity and peace.
Over time, you learn the difference between anxious noise and steady guidance. You also learn that God doesn’t need you to perform. He wants you present.
The Point
God isn’t hiding. Revelation 3:20 shows Him as the One who knocks, waiting for us to open the door. The image is a meal, fellowship, real time together. Conversation, not a transaction.
So yes, bring your needs. Bring your requests. Bring your fear and your gratitude.
Then pause.
Because maybe the answer you’ve been begging for has been there all along, and the only thing missing was silence.
I’m the writer behind Monk & Martyr. I don’t have formal seminary training, and I take comfort in the fact that Saint Francis of Assisi did not either. My “training” has been lived conversion and the slow work of following Jesus through real seasons of life. I write honest, Scripture-rooted encouragement that points back to one thing. You’re loved more than you know, and Christ’s grace is bigger than whatever you’re carrying.