Tonight, my heart feels so full and so fragile all at once. The world outside my window is quiet—just the soft hum of the fan and the occasional chirp of a cricket. But inside me, it’s anything but quiet. I feel stirred. Not anxious exactly, just... aware. Aware that I need God more than ever, and somehow, even when I whisper the tiniest prayer, I know—really know—that Heaven is listening.
But some days I do wonder. I’m not proud of that, but it’s honest. Is Heaven listening? When my voice cracks under the weight of what I can’t even put into words, is God really hearing me? And more than that—does He care?
Tonight, I opened up to Psalm 34:17:
“The righteous cry out, and the Lord hears them; He delivers them from all their troubles.”
I held onto that verse like it was oxygen. Because today I cried—not out loud, but in that quiet way where you hold your breath so no one hears, but your soul is screaming. I didn’t have the strength to pray long or with eloquence. All I could manage was: “Jesus, I need You.”
And that was enough.
It had to be enough.
Lately, prayer has felt less like a ritual and more like my lifeline. It’s not about pretty words anymore. I don’t even bother with formalities. I talk to Him like I’d talk to my best friend. Because He is.
He’s the only one who’s been with me through everything—the bad breakups, the confusion after college, the loneliness I didn’t expect at this age. Everyone told me life would feel more settled by 24, but honestly? It just feels like more questions, more pressure, more waiting.
But prayer reminds me I’m not waiting alone.
A Little Prayer Tonight:
Jesus, thank You for listening even when my words are few. Thank You for not being distant, even when I feel far away. Draw me back to You tonight. Remind me that my prayers are not in vain and that You're doing something in the silence—even when I can't see it. Amen.
I remember something my grandma used to say: "You don’t always need to hear from Heaven to know that Heaven hears you." I never understood that until now. I think about the times I’ve prayed for things that didn’t happen the way I wanted—but somehow, it worked out better later. Maybe unanswered prayers are God’s mercy in disguise.
1 John 5:14 brings me comfort, especially on days like this:
“This is the confidence we have in approaching God: that if we ask anything according to His will, He hears us.”
I keep asking for clarity—about my future, about my purpose, about whether I’m doing this life right. But maybe what I need more is courage. The courage to keep praying even when the answers feel far away.
Earlier today, I journaled this prayer (before I even opened my Bible):
Lord, I don’t want to treat prayer like a last resort. I want it to be my first move. Even when I don’t see immediate results, remind me that You’re always working behind the scenes. Let me trust the process and trust Your heart, even when Your hand feels hidden.
When I think about prayer, I don’t just think about asking. I think about connecting. Like, deep soul-to-God connection. And that changes everything. It’s not about wish lists—it’s about presence. His presence. And when I feel that, even just a little, I’m okay again.
I think of Philippians 4:6-7 so often:
“Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.
And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”
That verse has literally carried me through panic attacks. I read it out loud when my heart races, and it’s like the Word itself becomes a balm over my chaos. I still struggle with fear sometimes, but prayer has become my shelter.
Tonight’s final prayer:
Abba, You are my refuge. When everything feels uncertain, Your love remains. Help me to not just pray out of desperation, but out of devotion. Remind me that every whispered prayer reaches You. That not one word falls to the ground. That You’re near. I surrender my need to understand, and I choose to trust that You are good, always. In Jesus’ name, Amen.
So, is Heaven listening?
Yes. I believe that with every fiber of my being—even on the days when I don’t feel it. Faith isn’t about always feeling—it’s about choosing to believe, even in the silence.
And tonight, I choose to believe. I choose to believe that the Power of Prayer is real. That my small, trembling voice matters to a big, powerful God. That my tears don’t go unnoticed. That even now—right now—Heaven is not just listening, but leaning in.
Goodnight, Jesus. I love You.
Thank You for loving me first.
More than anything else in this world, I belong to You.
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