Reverend Marco Ste-Marie

PRAYER DOESN’T PRETEND—IT TRANSFORMS

Let’s not sugarcoat it—prayer is hard. Sometimes it feels like talking to a wall.

Our minds wander. Our doubts rise. And sometimes, God seems silent. BUT SILENCE DOESN’T MEAN ABSENCE.

When you plant a seed, you don’t dig it up every day to see if it’s growing. You trust the process. Prayer is the same. Beneath the surface, unseen, God is working.

This truth was at the heart of Jeremiah 29:12–13, a message given to God’s people in exile. The people of Judah had been taken to Babylon after the first wave of conquest in 597 BCE. They longed for a quick return home.

False prophets promised that exile would be short, but Jeremiah’s letter shattered that illusion. He told them to settle in for the long haul: build houses, plant gardens, marry, have children, and—most surprisingly—“seek the welfare (shalom) of the city” where they were.

Then God made a promise: “When you call upon me and come and pray to me, I will hear you. When you search for me, you will find me—if you seek me with all your heart.”

The Hebrew word for “heart” (levav) doesn’t just mean emotions—it’s the seat of thought, will, and desire. This is about total devotion, not casual curiosity.

This was radical in its time. In the ancient Near Eastern mindset, exile meant your god had been defeated.

But Jeremiah insists: YHWH is still alive, still sovereign, and still listening—even in foreign territory. The covenant relationship wasn’t tied to a temple or a homeland. God’s presence was portable.

For us, the message is clear: even when we feel “exiled” from stability—whether through illness, grief, or societal upheaval—God is near.

But He must be sought with undivided loyalty.

Prayer in such times is not just about survival; it’s about rooting ourselves in God’s future while living faithfully in the present.