Gospel & Grit

“Hey God, question…”

For the longest time—and honestly, still sometimes—I’ve worried about praying “wrong.”
Hear me out.

I know the standard prayers. The Lord’s Prayer. The Apostles’ Creed. I even made painted vinyl versions of our family prayer and shared them with my people—our house, my parents’ place, my brothers’ homes—so the words would live with all of us. I know how to “PRAY.” But I still feel like I’m doing it wrong.

Reciting prayers together as a family every Easter is deeply meaningful. But I’m not talking about that. I mean the raw, unfiltered kind of praying.

For a long time, I thought prayer had to be this quiet, sit-down experience that started with “Dear God” and ended with “Amen.” But I couldn’t ever seem to get it done that way. Still, I felt like I was constantly talking to God.

The problem? I’d start in—usually not with “Dear God,” but something far less holy, like “Hey God, question…” which already feels a little off to admit. And then I’d just… spiral. One minute it’s healing, or patience, or comfort, or whatever kicked off the thought. Next thing I know, I’m venting. Jumping topics. Asking a million questions. Getting interrupted. Distracted. Frustrated.

Someone needs something. My phone goes off. I remember a chore I didn’t finish and start spiraling about how I’ll have to admit it to my husband later. And then—hours later—I throw up a rushed “Amen” so it doesn’t feel like I left God hanging in a half-finished text bubble.

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Where the Doubt Really Comes From

So how do you PRAY when you’re constantly worried it’s not really prayer—but just an obnoxious rant to a God with much bigger fish to fry?

How do I organize my prayers into succinct bullet points so they’re more efficient? How do I make sure I’m not bothering my King?

That’s when it started to click, y’all.

I wasn’t actually afraid of praying “wrong.”
I was wrestling with something much deeper—something trained, reinforced, and rooted in me for a long time:

The belief that my prayers weren’t important enough to request God’s time.
That without a game plan or polished delivery, I was a burden.

It turns out, my fear of “acceptable” praying had less to do with God’s standards…
And everything to do with how little value I placed on my own voice.

Let’s be kind and set aside the fact that I, for some reason, decided for myself what God does and doesn’t have time for. That’s a layer of pride even I’m not ready to peel back just yet.

But real talk… what the hell!?

I can honestly say I didn’t even know what I was truly wrestling with until I started writing it down. And now that I see it? I know I have to start slow. I can’t reprogram my entire soul with a few aha moments and a journal entry. This is going to be a process—a long one. A constant one. But one worth showing up for.

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God Is Not Rolling His Eyes at You

Here’s the deal: the “why” doesn’t matter as much right now. How the doubt began, where it came from, what keeps it alive? That’s all background noise today.

What matters is this: starting the slow climb out of that crater of self-doubt—and doing it in a way that actually makes sense to my heart.

God is my Father.
And He is not annoyed by my rambling any more than I’m annoyed when my kid pours out their heart to me about something they care about—even if it’s all out of order and interrupted by side tangents about friend drama, homecoming dresses, and whether or not bangs are a life-altering mistake.

When I go to God, if I can remind myself how much I cherish those moments of honest rambling from the tiny humans I’ve loved with my whole body, heart, and soul… I can start my own jumbled prayers from a place of a little more freedom. A little less fear.

Because He cherishes the honesty of my heart, too.

And I can get a little more open—because I know how much it matters for my kids to feel safe enough to be fully themselves with me.

And once that door cracks open, a peace rushes in that almost knocks me over. That’s the space where real, raw prayer kicks into full gear. Where connection happens. Not because I performed it right—but because I showed up.

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Start Where You Are (Even If It’s a Mess)

I needed to know why it felt so wrong to be honest with a God who already knows me inside and out… and now I do.

It’s not a prayer problem—it’s a perspective problem.

So let’s start there. Let’s start with the shift.

If you’ve ever felt like your prayers don’t count because they aren’t structured, polished, or polite—this is your permission slip to drop the script.

Your voice matters.
Your heart matters.
And our God? He’s not grading you on grammar.

He’s a Father.
And He’s just glad you showed up.

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You Showed Up. That’s Enough.

And that big scary “why” you’ve been carrying? You’ll get to it.

When you’re ready. When you’ve felt safe long enough to be brave.

Because opening up in the safest place there is—that’s what gives you the strength to face the rest.