Prayer

When I Come Back to Prayer

/ Baylee Snelling / 1 Comment

Sometimes prayer doesn’t begin with words.
It begins with a pause.

A moment where I stop moving long enough to notice
what I’ve been carrying without saying.

Lately, prayer has felt less like asking
and more like returning.

Returning to honesty.
Returning to stillness.
Returning to the simple truth that I don’t have to hold everything on my own.

I don’t always know what to say when I come.
Some days it’s just a sentence.
Some days it’s just a breath.
Some days it’s nothing more than staying.

And maybe that counts.

Maybe prayer isn’t measured by how clear or confident we sound.
Maybe it’s measured by our willingness to show up
without rehearsing,
without fixing,
without pretending we’re fine.

I’m learning that prayer doesn’t always change the situation right away.
But it changes where I stand inside of it.

And sometimes, that’s the quiet grace of it —
not answers,
not certainty,
just presence.

God meeting me where I am.
And me learning to stay there a little longer.

“Truly my soul finds rest in God;
my salvation comes from him.”
— Psalm 62:1 (NIV)

Everybody Stop

/ Baylee Snelling / 1 Comment

Do you ever want to find a really big hill,
take a deep breath in,
and scream out,

“EVERYBODY STOP!”

Like you’re constantly getting hit from all angles
and you’ve just had it?

I get it.
And if I’m honest,
I wish I didn’t.

But here I am.
On the top of my hill.
Screaming at the top of my lungs:
“Everybody stop!!”

Because I’m just so tired.
Aren’t you?

“From the ends of the earth I call to you,
I call as my heart grows faint;
lead me to the rock that is higher than I.”
— Psalm 61:2 (NIV)

Stronger Than What’s Standing in Front of You

/ Baylee Snelling / 1 Comment

There are days when the thing in front of you feels too big to move.
Too heavy to carry.
Too complicated to untangle.

The obstacle might be a person.
Or a wound.
Or a door that just won’t open no matter how hard you push.

And it’s easy to believe that this is the thing that will finally undo you.
That maybe this is the end of the road.
That prayer doesn’t work.
Or God’s not listening.
Or you’re just too tired to keep saying the same thing again and again.

But lately, I’ve been reminded of something:

Prayer is not powerless.
It’s not passive.
It’s not some backup plan we use when everything else fails.

Prayer is the most powerful thing we’ve been given.
Because prayer isn’t just words — it’s connection.
It’s alignment.
It’s surrender and authority woven together in the same breath.

It’s not always flashy.
It’s not always instant.
But it is always working.

Because prayer invites God into places we can’t reach on our own.
And there is no obstacle that outranks His presence.

So if what’s standing in front of you feels too big —
remember who’s standing beside you.

“The prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective.”
James 5:16 (NIV)

The Prayer I Was Afraid to Pray

/ Baylee Snelling / Leave a comment

Lament.

A word I recently wrote about.
A word I’ve been seeing almost every day since then.

To lament is to feel, show, or express grief, sorrow, or regret.
Biblically, lament is a form of prayer that expresses deep sorrow, grief, or pain to God.

So that’s what I’ve been doing.

It’s unprocessed and messy.
I’m saying things to Him that I didn’t even know I had in me —
emotions that have been long hidden.

I hesitate to start,
afraid that voicing it might somehow pull me away from God.

But it’s been quite the opposite.

I’m being drawn closer to Him —
as if He’s surrounding me in the quiet.

I see Him in the daily, the mundane.
I feel Him in the ache and the uncovering.
He is the wisest Counselor —
helping me name the lies I’ve carried too long,
gently exposing what needs healing,
and holding every part of my heart while He restores it.

When You’ve Already Prayed for This

/ Baylee Snelling / 2 Comments

There’s a prayer I’ve whispered so many times,
I don’t even need the words anymore.
It lives in my breath —
in the pause between heartbeats,
in the tears that come without warning.

Sometimes, I feel embarrassed to bring it up again.
Like I should’ve moved on by now.
Like maybe God is tired of hearing the same request
from the same voice
with the same ache.

But then I remember:
God is not like us.
He doesn’t grow weary of repetition.
He doesn’t keep score.
He just keeps listening.

So I bring it again.
Not because I don’t trust —
but because I do.

Because when you keep praying for the same thing,
you’re not being weak.
You’re being brave.

You’re believing
that even silence can be holy
and that maybe, just maybe,
this prayer is forming something in you, too.

He still hears you.
Even now. Even again.

The Prayer I Keep Whispering: A Quiet Breath for the Week Ahead

/ Baylee Snelling / 1 Comment

God,
You already know —
but I’ll say it anyway.

Because something in me
needs to say it out loud.
To bring the ache to You
instead of just carrying it around inside me.

I don’t have anything profound today.
No bold declarations.
No polished prayers.
Just a quiet whisper
from a tired heart.

Hold me steady.
Keep us safe.
Help me trust what I can’t yet see.
Remind me that I’m not lost in this.

Some days I feel brave.
Other days, I feel like I’m barely holding on.
But You’ve never needed my strength to stay close.

So I’ll stay here.
Soft.
Honest.
Open.

Still whispering —
and still believing
that You’re listening.

Amen.

God, Are You Listening?

/ Baylee Snelling / 1 Comment

God,
are You listening?

I know You are.
But some days, I still ask the question.

Not because I think You’ve left —
but because I am both —
the steady believer
and the human heart that aches for response.

I still pray.
Still trust.
Still believe You are near.
But there are moments when I wonder
why it feels like I’m the only one speaking.

The silence is heavy when I’m carrying so much.

And then I remember:
sometimes,
it’s in the silence
that we hear You the loudest.

So I keep praying —
not to fill the quiet,
but to stay close to You inside it.

Because maybe faith isn’t always loud.
Maybe it’s this:
still believing You hear me —
even when You don’t say a word.

So yes, I’ll keep asking:
God, are You listening?

And I’ll keep trusting —
because something in me knows
You always are.