Dangerous Prayers: Because Following Jesus Was Never Meant to Be Safe

by Craig Groeschel

The most common lies are the ones we tell ourselves.

We all rationalize. No one likes to face the ugly truth that they drink too much, that they think about things that they’d be ashamed for anyone else to know, that they laugh at others’ mistakes and gossip behind their backs.

You tell yourself, I’m not materialistic; I just like nice things. I’m not a gossip; I’m just telling them so they can pray. I don’t have a problem; this is just my one thing I do to cope.

Or David could have plotted to harm King Saul, justifying his actions in the name of self-preservation.

My peers had voted me to be president of our youth group, a leader and role model for all the other kids at our church. But my life was a sham as far as my faith was concerned. I acted sincere and serious on Wednesday nights at youth group and then partied with a wilder crowd on the weekend.

I pretended like I knew God, but my life and heart revealed how far from him I really was.

I talked the talk, but I didn’t walk the walk. I pretended to be a Christian, but I didn’t know the Christ.

It was then that I realized the closer I got to Jesus, the more I’d have to face my shortcomings. My pride. My selfishness. My lust. My critical spirit.

It’s a dangerous prayer. But it’s one that could redirect your life. “Search me, God.”

We don’t know what exact fears were running through David’s mind, but it’s clear he was troubled about his safety and perhaps his future.

God showed me that what I feared the most revealed where I trusted God the least.

As her symptoms continued to worsen, my trust in God started to weaken.

The things that kept me awake at night were the things that I wasn’t trusting God to handle.

I was holding onto them, ruminating over them, trying to find a way to gain control over them, to solve all my problems, to plan for every contingency.

Not only am I a Christian, I’m a pastor. I know I’m not supposed to worry. But when it’s your own child, it’s hard not to let your mind race in the wrong direction.

Our fears matter. Because ultimately, our fears show how we’re relying on our own efforts and not trusting in our Savior.

The truth is we—you and I and everyone—are always inadequate. We’re never enough. We’re always weak. But here’s the incredible thing: when we’re weak, God’s power is made perfect (see 2 Cor. 12:9).

To please God, to serve him, to honor him, to live for him, you cannot be driven by fear. You must be led by faith.

the pathway to your greatest potential is often straight through your greatest fear.

Through the centuries, many Christians have believed that God’s enemy, the devil, attempts to influence believers with lies. If you’re afraid of failing, it could be that your spiritual enemy is trying to talk you out of doing what God has created you to do.

Faith doesn’t mean you don’t get afraid. Faith means you don’t let fear stop you.

First, consider what others have told you about you. Is there an area of your life, your habits, your relationships, or your actions that others have suggested needs to change?

She suggested that if more than two people that you love and trust suggest you have a problem, you should recognize that you have a problem and deal with it immediately.

Rather than defending your actions, perhaps it’s time to consider changing your patterns.

What about you? Is there something others have been trying to help you see about yourself that needs to change? Proverbs 12:15 says, “The way of fools seems right to them, but the wise listen to advice.”

Is there something in your life that is wrong, but you continue to ignore God’s gracious warning signals?

This is another reason why this dangerous prayer is not only important but imperative. We need God’s help to see the sin that’s difficult to see in the mirror.

If someone is suggesting a change in your life and you bark back, instead of barking, you would be wise to listen.

“Would you ask God to show you if this is something he would have you change?”

Denying the truth doesn’t change the facts.

becoming obsessed with what people think about me is the quickest way to forget what God thinks about me.

as I care less about what people think, I’m more passionate about what God thinks.

your deepest need becomes a gift when it moves you to depend on Christ.

If you are tripping over pride, humble yourself and God will lift you up.

He didn’t burst my bubble—the truth did.

Gary reminded me that God loved me. He always has my best interests in mind. But for me to be wholly useful to him, I’d have to be empty of myself.

Could breaking be as necessary to our growth as it is to a baby bird cracking away the shell around it? As a butterfly coming out of the cocoon?

We don’t realize what blessings might be on the other side of God’s breaking.

Like the bread he broke at the table, Jesus’ body would be broken.

Jesus isn’t inviting us to a life of comfort and ease, but one of surrender and sacrifice.

The days after someone dies are always odd.

Through my deep grief, I somehow tried to offer hope to those grieving alongside me.

It’s easy to impress people with our strengths, but real connections are forged through our shared weaknesses.

We may impress people with what we can do. But we connect in our common struggles.

Just as persecution always unites, strengthens, and emboldens Christians who suffer together, so does brokenness create a bond that stands the test of time.

Who does God most often use? God uses those who are broken and dependent on him.

True brokenness before God isn’t a one-time event; it’s a daily decision. Paul said, “I die daily” (1 Cor. 15:31 NKJV).

Being broken isn’t just a moment in time born out of a painful event. It’s a daily choice to die to pride.

When things get difficult, many run from God. Don’t do that. Run to him.

Let me remind you, this isn’t advanced Christianity. Brokenness isn’t just for monks and missionaries. Brokenness is actually the first step. It’s basic Christianity.