grace given me

My son flew home for a quick visit, and like any mom, I prayed for safe, smooth travels. The last time he came home, the evening fog rolled in thick. After circling for an hour, his flight was rerouted to Los Angeles, and he had to Uber the rest of the way. Not exactly the reunion you picture after months apart and a five-hour cross-country flight. So this time, I prayed: Lord, please let everything go smoothly. But I also knew—there was a chance it wouldn’t.

At the same time, my son was interviewing for a data analytics role with a Major League Baseball team. He already had another job offer in a different industry. A good one. A stable one. But his heart? Baseball. If he got the MLB job, he’d start immediately after graduation. If he didn’t, he’d be home for the summer before starting his other role in September. And I found myself wondering… what do I actually pray for? The dream job—or possibly the last summer with both kids at home? The smooth flight or simply whatever happens?

Have you ever felt torn like that? Unsure what to pray?

Scripture tells us, “The prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective” (James 5:16). But what about when we’re unsure what to pray? Sometimes people default to, Well, whatever happens must be God’s will. But if everything simply unfolded automatically as God’s will, why would the Bible instruct us to pray at all? The disciples observed Jesus himself often praying. 

Confusion around prayer isn’t new. Even the disciples—who walked closely with Jesus—needed guidance. Jesus told them to pray like this: “Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name, your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven”(Matthew 6:9–10). That sounds less like passive acceptance and more like participation. Jesus was inviting them—and invites us today—to pray in a way that brings God’s will to life here on earth, which means his will is not on autopilot.

If God is looking for partners, then it makes sense that we would need to spend time with him to understand his will—his heart. God is always good. Always loving. And yet, we don’t always experience outcomes that feel good or loving in the moment. Still, I come back to what Scripture promises: “In all things God works for the good of those who love him” (Romans 8:28), and “how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!” (Matthew 7:11). So how do we reconcile that kind of truth with the reality that God is not a genie granting every specific request exactly as we imagine it?

That’s where I found myself wrestling. And in the quiet, I felt a simple nudge: Pray for these things… or something better. Not hedged bets. Not a step back in faith, but a deeper step into trust. Pray specifically. Pray boldly. And then trust that God sees what we cannot. That his “better” is not a consolation prize—it is something beyond what we could ask or imagine, just as Ephesians 3:20 reminds us.

That shift changes everything. It allows us to bring our real desires before God without gripping them so tightly. Instead of striving to pray the perfect prayer, we can pray honest ones: Lord, I’m asking for this opportunity… or something better. I’m asking for smooth travel… or something better. I’m asking for this door to open… or something better. It keeps our faith active while our hearts remain surrendered.

Because belief isn’t about controlling the outcome—it’s about trusting the one who holds it. It’s about knowing that when we ask for bread, he will not give us a stone, and when we entrust him with our desires, he responds with the goodness of a perfect Father. And sometimes that goodness looks exactly like what we asked for. And sometimes—it looks like something better.

Lord, I know that with you all things are possible. You are a good Father who loves to give good gifts. Thank you for your protection and guidance. I cast my cares on you because you care for me (1 Peter 5:7). Give me courage to partner with you in bringing your will to earth. Give me faith to believe. Give me discipline to meet you in the quiet place. Help me trust—not just for what I ask… but for what is better. Amen.