The walls in my house are a witness. They’ve absorbed the sound waves of soft, wearied prayers and of bold, loud requests before God.
And with these walls, I wait for prayer’s fruit.
Our hearts (my heart) want to dodge the subject of “unanswered prayer.” We often don’t have much to say about it, because mingled with the pain of delay is the reality that we simply don’t understand why our prayers sometimes seem to go unheard.
We kind of feel like we’re down there with Joseph in the pit, pleading for God’s hand to rescue, to intervene, to break in, and to hear our prayer.
But He leaves us there. And not only that, sometimes bad gets worse. Like Joseph… from pit, to slavery, to dungeon.
And our hearts begin to pulse and ache with the question—Does He really hear?