The Accusing Voice That Silenced My Prayers—and the Scripture That Set Me Free
Like everything else in life, I didn’t see it coming—the most difficult moment of my life with my wife of almost 39 years: her catastrophic illness and the utter sense of helplessness that has come with it. And, as the saying goes, “when it rains, it pours.” What is already a deeply personal and painful situation has been compounded by other issues close to home that have driven me to my knees more than ever before in my life; it’s not even close.
Ironically, it’s when I’m praying over my own problems—pleading with God to intervene for my wife and for me—that I sometimes run into thoughts that weaken my resolve to pray. Let me explain.
As an AMI Teaching Pastor, I’m a pastor without a congregation. I’m not immersed, as most parish pastors are, in the daily burdens of church members—because I don’t have any. Perhaps that’s why I find myself more attentive, maybe even more sensitive, to news reports about Christians in certain countries facing persecution.
Take Nigeria, for example. Of all people, the self‑proclaimed atheist Bill Maher said the following in 2025: “They are systematically killing the Christians in Nigeria. They’ve killed over 100,000 since 2009. They’ve burned 18,000 churches. These are the Islamists, Boko Haram. This is so much more of a genocide attempt than what is going on in Gaza. They are literally attempting to wipe out the Christian population of an entire country.” Obviously, this is heartbreaking. I pray daily that God would dismantle this radical Islamist group so that Christians in Nigeria do not have to fear for their lives simply because they are Christians.
Against that background, while praying over my personal problems—sometimes rather indignantly, as in, “God, why aren’t you moving on my behalf? ‘Why do you sleep? Rouse yourself! Do not reject us forever!’” (Ps. 44:23)—I hear this inward voice that goes like this: “You are such a spoiled Western Christian. While you cry out for God to intervene so that your personal problems, including your wife’s illness, would go away, Christians in Nigeria are literally dying for their faith. Besides, if God is not rescuing these believers from the terrors of Boko Haram, what makes you think He will respond to your petty requests?”
Where is this coming from? The Holy Spirit? The enemy? Even if the latter, isn’t there at least some truth in what I’m hearing?
Isn’t it true that we in the West are often spoiled—and that this shows up in the kinds of things that preoccupy us? We pray for no rain so we can enjoy a church picnic after service, while believers elsewhere are praying simply to survive another day.
And isn’t it also true that God didn’t intervene to rescue some of His most faithful servants—John the Baptist (beheaded), James the apostle (run through), and Stephen the deacon (stoned)? Their stories remind us that suffering has always been woven into the life of God’s people.
No, this blog isn’t meant to discourage us from praying for no rain, nor to solve the theological mystery of why God didn’t rescue these godly people while rescuing others such as Peter from being executed and Daniel from being eaten by lions. I merely want to share how the Lord released me from the spiritual impasse I experienced while praying—more than once.
Amid the struggle, the Lord brought to mind Luke 12:6–7: “Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies? Yet not one of them is forgotten by God. Indeed, the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.” The reminder that God even cares about sparrows felt like a release—a breath of fresh air, a sigh of relief. I may not be much, but I am certainly more valuable than sparrows. God does care about my problems; however insignificant they may seem in view of the exponentially greater suffering believers face in other parts of the world. He remembers me.
So, confident that God does not hold my prayers in contempt but is attentive to them, I “cry out to him day and night,” believing that He will not “keep putting them off” (Lk. 18:7). Meanwhile, I continue to lift up the believers in Nigeria, that “they get justice, and quickly” (Lk. 18:8)—whether here on earth or in heaven. “Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness”—like John, James, Stephen, and the many nameless believers in Nigeria—“for theirs is the kingdom of heaven” (Mt. 5:10).
Ironically, it’s when I’m praying over my own problems—pleading with God to intervene for my wife and for me—that I sometimes run into thoughts that weaken my resolve to pray. Let me explain.
As an AMI Teaching Pastor, I’m a pastor without a congregation. I’m not immersed, as most parish pastors are, in the daily burdens of church members—because I don’t have any. Perhaps that’s why I find myself more attentive, maybe even more sensitive, to news reports about Christians in certain countries facing persecution.
Take Nigeria, for example. Of all people, the self‑proclaimed atheist Bill Maher said the following in 2025: “They are systematically killing the Christians in Nigeria. They’ve killed over 100,000 since 2009. They’ve burned 18,000 churches. These are the Islamists, Boko Haram. This is so much more of a genocide attempt than what is going on in Gaza. They are literally attempting to wipe out the Christian population of an entire country.” Obviously, this is heartbreaking. I pray daily that God would dismantle this radical Islamist group so that Christians in Nigeria do not have to fear for their lives simply because they are Christians.
Against that background, while praying over my personal problems—sometimes rather indignantly, as in, “God, why aren’t you moving on my behalf? ‘Why do you sleep? Rouse yourself! Do not reject us forever!’” (Ps. 44:23)—I hear this inward voice that goes like this: “You are such a spoiled Western Christian. While you cry out for God to intervene so that your personal problems, including your wife’s illness, would go away, Christians in Nigeria are literally dying for their faith. Besides, if God is not rescuing these believers from the terrors of Boko Haram, what makes you think He will respond to your petty requests?”
Where is this coming from? The Holy Spirit? The enemy? Even if the latter, isn’t there at least some truth in what I’m hearing?
Isn’t it true that we in the West are often spoiled—and that this shows up in the kinds of things that preoccupy us? We pray for no rain so we can enjoy a church picnic after service, while believers elsewhere are praying simply to survive another day.
And isn’t it also true that God didn’t intervene to rescue some of His most faithful servants—John the Baptist (beheaded), James the apostle (run through), and Stephen the deacon (stoned)? Their stories remind us that suffering has always been woven into the life of God’s people.
No, this blog isn’t meant to discourage us from praying for no rain, nor to solve the theological mystery of why God didn’t rescue these godly people while rescuing others such as Peter from being executed and Daniel from being eaten by lions. I merely want to share how the Lord released me from the spiritual impasse I experienced while praying—more than once.
Amid the struggle, the Lord brought to mind Luke 12:6–7: “Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies? Yet not one of them is forgotten by God. Indeed, the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.” The reminder that God even cares about sparrows felt like a release—a breath of fresh air, a sigh of relief. I may not be much, but I am certainly more valuable than sparrows. God does care about my problems; however insignificant they may seem in view of the exponentially greater suffering believers face in other parts of the world. He remembers me.
So, confident that God does not hold my prayers in contempt but is attentive to them, I “cry out to him day and night,” believing that He will not “keep putting them off” (Lk. 18:7). Meanwhile, I continue to lift up the believers in Nigeria, that “they get justice, and quickly” (Lk. 18:8)—whether here on earth or in heaven. “Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness”—like John, James, Stephen, and the many nameless believers in Nigeria—“for theirs is the kingdom of heaven” (Mt. 5:10).
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