It was barely 8am and I had already lost my keys, spilt breakfast on my shirt, left my lunch at home, replied to a text I definitely should have read twice, and mentally rewritten my to-do list approximately seventeen times. You know those mornings where every tiny thing seems to go slightly wrong? It was one of those. By the time I finally made it to my desk and opened my laptop, I felt like I’d already lived an entire day. And it wasn’t even 8:30.

Then it occurred to me. I hadn’t prayed. Not once.

I had retraced my steps, problem-solved, rushed, made lists and tried to hold all the pieces together myself. I had done just about everything except ask the Creator of the Universe to help me.

I wonder how often we do that.

We ask, “Why isn’t God helping me?” when we haven’t actually asked Him for help. Or, if you’re anything like me, you stubbornly decide you can handle it yourself. After all, it’s not that bad. Surely involving God in the missing keys, the overflowing inbox and the seventeen-item to-do list is a little dramatic?

Yet Philippians 4:6 says, “In every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present
your requests to God.”

Every situation. If you’re anything like me, we tend to save prayer for the big things. The things we ask other people to pray for. The things big enough that we feel justified admitting, I can’t do this on my own. The diagnosis. The crisis. The impossible decision. Meanwhile, we quietly decide we can handle everything else ourselves.

I don’t particularly like asking for help. Maybe you don’t either. But God never asked us to prove how much we can carry without Him. He actually invites us to do the opposite. To bring Him all of it, the significant and the seemingly insignificant, before we’ve tried twelve solutions of our own and finally decided we’re out of options.

Some of the prayers I pray most often in my role here as College Pastor aren’t particularly impressive. In fact, one of my favourites is only two words: God, help.

Sometimes a student sits across from me and begins sharing something, and I become painfully aware that I don’t have the perfect words. I can’t fix what has happened. I can’t promise everything will be okay. And there are moments when I genuinely have no idea what this young person needs from me.

So, somewhere quietly inside, I pray. God, help.

Recently, after one of those conversations, I watched a student walk towards my office door, wondering whether anything I had said had helped at all. Just before they left, they stopped, turned around, ran back and gave me a hug.

“Thank you.”

It was such a small moment, but it reminded me of something I seem to need reminding of often: I was never meant to do all of this on my own.
I don’t need to have every answer. I don’t need to find the perfect words. I don’t need to wait until I’ve exhausted every possible option before asking God for help. And neither do you.

Prayer isn’t an admission that we’ve failed to handle things ourselves. And it isn’t the emergency button we press when everything else has failed. It’s an invitation to stop carrying life alone.

Jacqueline Newell, Primary College Pastor