Why Does God Answer Our Prayers?

Ever wonder why God answers our prayers?

I used to think God answered our prayers because we were pretty good people. Until I discovered that no one’s good. Not really good, anyway, by God’s standard. Romans 3:23 confirms this. “For all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God.”

So much for that idea.

Then I thought God might answer our prayers if we do more good than we do bad. You know, like the proverbial scales so many people use to gauge whether or not they’ll go to heaven. Enough good works, and you slide in. More bad than good? Sorry. No admittance.

Since this is a faulty and unbiblical approach to eternity (Eph. 2:8-9), I’m not sure why I thought it might apply to our prayers, but for a while I entertained the idea.

Picture this: God: “Ah, Lori, now she’s done really well this week. She attended church twice, put a tithe in the offering plate, and let three people go ahead of her in line at Aldi. She deserves at least one answered prayer, don’t you think?”

Unfortunately, I’ve found no biblical support for this view, either. While I read hundreds of passages on how living according to God’s principles will bring blessings into our lives, I found nothing that discussed the ratio of good deeds to answered prayers. God does not “owe me” a favor as a repayment for my good works.

Sad, because there were a few prayer requests I really wanted to bargain for.

Then I considered the possibility that if I mustered up enough passion and energy about my prayer requests, maybe my fervency would catch God’s attention and convince him I was serious. After all, doesn’t James 5:19 say, “The effective, fervent prayer of a righteous man accomplishes much?”

So fervent I became.

“God, pleeeeeeeeeeeease act in this situation. I know you are mighty, all-powerful, all-knowing, Warrior of the Universe, King of King and Lord of Lords, God of Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, and all the patriarchs whose names I don’t remember. You’re faster than a speeding bullet, stronger than a locomotive, able to leap tall buildings . . . oops, sorry. I got you confused with Superman for a minute there, but I know you’re even better than Superman, so pleeeeeeeeease answer my prayer.”

But the problem with this prayer theology is it pictures God as a reluctant giver who must be manipulated into answering my prayers. It implies if I don’t put on enough of a dog and pony show, if I don’t beat my breast and fall on my face, or work myself into an emotional frenzy in an attempt to convince God of my sincerity, then he won’t give me what I want.

Which is not God at all.

Matthew 7:11 tells me he loves to give good gifts to his children. Generously. Lavishly. Joyfully. I don’t need to become a drama queen to demonstrate my passion. He already knows my heart, without all the theatrics.

Then I finally figured it out.

Remember that passage about the widow who had no other recourse but to badger the unrighteous judge until he gave in and granted her petition? That’s the key. Persistence. Nag God until he’s so sick of hearing my voice that he answers my prayer just to shut me up.

No. No. No. That’s not it, either. While many prayer requests require a concerted effort over a long period of time, this isn’t because God is a miser whose every gift must be forced out of his prayer-pinching hands. The purpose of persevering prayer is to change me, not God. I’m the one who needs to be conformed to his will, not him to mine.

And then I read Daniel 9:18. And discovered one reason God answers our prayers.

“We do not make requests of you because we are righteous,” Daniel prayed, “but because of your great mercy.” 

Our goodness doesn’t earn God’s favor. Nor do our good works. Our fervency doesn’t manipulate him. Nor does our persistence. God answers our prayers because of his mercy. The abundant, unmerited, gracious favor that flows out of God’s great, big, loving heart. We can’t earn it. We don’t deserve it, but we should be infinitely grateful for it.

Father God, we come to you today a humble, sinful people, wrapped in the borrowed righteousness of Christ. Left to ourselves, we are foolish, stubborn, and prideful. Forgive us for daring to think we can bargain for your favor. While it’s been said prayer is the slender thread that moves the hand of God, remind us it is mercy that allows us to grasp that silken cord. 

We come to you now, not because we are righteous, but because of your great mercy. Hear our cries. Act on our behalf. May your will be done on earth as it is in heaven, and may our prayers always glorify you. In the precious name of Jesus I pray, Amen.

If you'd like to celebrate God's mercy just a little while longer, I invite you to enjoy Matt Redman's "Mercy."

If you're reading by email and can't see the video, click HERE to watch Matt Redman's Mercy. 

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