A Note from Hixon Frank | July 10, 2026

What Makes Prayer So Hard?

For the past 37 years, I’ve had the privilege of serving in ministry.

Looking back, I can see seasons of remarkable victory. By God's grace, I've watched Him give me victory over sins that once seemed impossible to overcome. I've seen Him carry me through difficult circumstances I never would have chosen but wouldn't trade because of what He taught me. There have been mountaintops where His presence felt especially near and valleys where His faithfulness became more real than ever before.

I've also stumbled.

There have been seasons when I've failed, had to confess my sin, receive God's forgiveness, regain my footing, and keep walking. More than once, I've discovered that the Christian life isn't a straight line upward but a lifelong journey of repentance, grace, and growing dependence on Jesus.

Through all of those years, however, one thing has genuinely surprised me.

One area of the Christian life has never become effortless.

Prayer.

You would think that after nearly four decades of following Christ and serving as a pastor, prayer would come as naturally as breathing. That distractions would disappear. That my mind would stay focused. That every prayer would feel rich and meaningful.

That hasn't been my experience.

Don't misunderstand me. I love to pray. I've seen too much to doubt its power. I've watched God answer prayers only He could answer. I've experienced His peace in moments that made no sense apart from His presence. Prayer has sustained me, corrected me, comforted me, and carried me.

But it has never become easy.

Perhaps you've discovered the same thing.

The Apostle Paul certainly understood that prayer required intentionality. He wrote, 

"Devote yourselves to prayer; stay alert in it with thanksgiving" (Colossians 4:2, CSB).

He didn't simply say, "Pray." He called believers to devote themselves to prayer because he knew it would require purpose and perseverance.

Perhaps one of the most discouraging things is watching believers we deeply admire—people we'd gladly call "prayer warriors"—still wrestle with fear, anxiety, discouragement, or disappointment. For a while, that confused me. I quietly wondered, if they still struggle after decades of faithful prayer, what hope is there for the rest of us?

Over time I've realized I was asking the wrong question.

Prayer was never designed to remove every struggle. It was designed to draw us into the presence of the One who meets us in every struggle.

Maybe that's why the disciples asked Jesus only one thing He taught them. They never said, "Lord, teach us to preach." They never asked Him to teach them how to perform miracles. Instead, "He was praying in a certain place, and when he finished, one of his disciples said to him, 'Lord, teach us to pray'" (Luke 11:1, CSB).

Apparently, they had noticed something.

The strength of Jesus' public ministry flowed from His private communion with His Father.

So why is prayer so hard?

One reason is surprisingly simple: dependence doesn't come naturally.

Most of us prefer self-reliance. We enjoy solving problems, making plans, and figuring things out. Prayer begins by admitting that there are burdens we cannot carry and problems we cannot solve on our own. Solomon reminds us, "Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not rely on your own understanding; in all your ways know him, and he will make your paths straight" (Proverbs 3:5–6, CSB). Prayer is one of the clearest expressions of that trust.

Prayer also requires something our culture doesn't value very much—stillness. We live in a noisy world. Every quiet moment is filled with another notification, another email, another text message, another distraction. Silence has become uncomfortable. Yet the Lord says, "Stop your fighting, and know that I am God" (Psalm 46:10, CSB). Before we can hear God's voice, we often have to quiet our own.

There is another reason prayer feels difficult.

It is opposed.

Paul reminds us, "For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers of this darkness" (Ephesians 6:12, CSB). Immediately after describing the armor of God, he adds, "Pray at all times in the Spirit with every prayer and request" (Ephesians 6:18, CSB). That's no accident. Prayer isn't merely another spiritual discipline; it is part of the battle itself.

Perhaps prayer is difficult not because it is ineffective, but because it is indispensable.

Many of us approach prayer hoping God will change our circumstances. Sometimes He does. But more often, before He changes our circumstances, He changes us.

Paul writes, "Don't worry about anything, but in everything, through prayer and petition with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus" (Philippians 4:6–7, CSB).

Notice what Paul doesn't promise.

He doesn't promise immediate answers or instant solutions.

He promises God's peace.

Isaiah echoes that same truth: "You will keep the mind that is dependent on you in perfect peace, for it is trusting in you" (Isaiah 26:3, CSB).

I've become convinced that one of the greatest miracles of prayer is not that it always changes our circumstances, but that it consistently changes us. Problems that once seemed overwhelming begin to look different in God's presence. Fear loosens its grip. Anxiety gives way to trust. Our confidence slowly shifts away from ourselves and back to the character of God.

I've often thought of it this way: prayer isn't where we convince God to join our agenda. It's where He lovingly convinces us to join His.

When we neglect prayer, we don't simply miss answered prayers.

We miss God Himself.

Jesus extends one of the sweetest invitations in all of Scripture: "Come to me, all of you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest" (Matthew 11:28, CSB). He doesn't merely promise relief; He promises Himself.

Without prayer, we begin carrying burdens Christ never intended us to carry alone. Anxiety quietly replaces trust. Self-sufficiency replaces dependence. We make decisions without seeking God's wisdom. Bitterness lingers longer. Pride grows unnoticed. We become increasingly occupied with building our own kingdom instead of pursuing His.

The writer of Hebrews reminds us of an incredible privilege: "Therefore, let us approach the throne of grace with boldness, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in time of need" (Hebrews 4:16, CSB).

Think about that.

The Creator of the universe welcomes us into His presence.

The Bible is remarkably honest about the people who prayed. Abraham doubted. David battled fear. Hannah poured out her grief through tears. Peter failed repeatedly. Elijah prayed powerfully one day and wanted to quit the next. Scripture doesn't present spiritual superheroes. It presents ordinary men and women who repeatedly brought their ordinary lives before an extraordinary God.

That gives me hope.

If you've read this far, perhaps you're tempted to feel guilty because your prayer life isn't what you wish it were.

Please don't.

Jesus never motivated weary people with guilt. He invited them into relationship.

So don't begin with an hour.

Begin with five minutes.

Don't worry about finding impressive words. Open a Psalm. Read a few verses. Thank God for His goodness. Confess your sin honestly. Pray for your spouse, your children, your church, your neighbors, and your friends by name. Then sit quietly for a moment before rushing to the next thing.

Jesus said, "But when you pray, go into your private room, shut your door, and pray to your Father who is in secret. And your Father who sees in secret will reward you" (Matthew 6:6, CSB).

Notice He didn't say, "If you pray."

He said, "When you pray."

Even Jesus Himself made prayer a priority. Luke tells us, "He often withdrew to deserted places and prayed" (Luke 5:16, CSB). Before choosing the Twelve, He spent the entire night in prayer. In Gethsemane, facing the cross, "Being in anguish, he prayed more fervently" (Luke 22:44, CSB).

If the sinless Son of God regularly withdrew to pray, why would we expect prayer to become effortless for us?

Thirty-seven years into ministry, I've stopped viewing the struggle of prayer as evidence that I'm failing.

Instead, I've come to believe the struggle itself points to its importance.

Some things are hard because they're unimportant.

Prayer is hard because it is one of the primary ways God conforms ordinary people into the image of His Son.

It is where pride gives way to humility, fear to faith, worry to peace, and self-reliance to dependence. It is where burdens become lighter, hearts become softer, and our lives are quietly transformed by the presence of God.

We may leave our prayer time with the very same circumstances we brought into it.

But we rarely leave as the same people.

And perhaps that is God's greatest answer of all.

If you’d like to grow in your prayer life, I’d love for you to join us on Wednesday evenings at 6:00 p.m. in the Worship Center. Together we’ll worship, open God’s Word, and spend time bringing our hearts, our families, our church, and our community before the Lord.

You don’t have to know exactly what to pray. You don’t have to pray out loud. Just come.

I believe God delights in meeting His people when they seek Him together, and I would be honored to see you there.

Be blessed, 

Hixon