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

by Craig Groeschel

To get there, I began by unpacking some of my spiritual baggage. For years, I’d felt deep shame about my half-hearted prayer life—me, a pastor. If you’ve ever felt insecure about your prayer life, think about what it’s like to be a pastor. I’m supposed be a prayer warrior—full of fierce, unrelenting faith and unbridled, Spirit-led power. And yet I found myself drifting while trying to pray.

You don’t have to look far in the Psalms to see the honest cries from the heart of David. He questioned God. He complained to God. He petitioned God. From the depths of his soul, David cried out to his heavenly Father, asking, “How long, Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me? How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and day after day have sorrow in my heart? How long will my enemy triumph over me?” (Ps. 13:1–2).

They’re almost guaranteed to push you out of your comfort zone. To stretch you. To help you grow righteously uncomfortable. They will require you to look deep within yourself. To stop pretending about certain aspects of your life. To be honest with yourself before the One who knows you better than you know yourself.

This is where it’s tricky. On the surface, it seems like we would know our own hearts. Right? I know my motives. I know what’s most important. I know why I do what I do. Besides, you might tell yourself, I’ve got a good heart. I’m not trying to hurt people. I want to do what’s right. My heart is good. I’m praying, aren’t I? But God’s Word actually reveals the exact opposite. It might be a shock when you hear it the first time, but Jeremiah tells us some straight-up truth. Jeremiah was the son of a Levitical priest born around 650 BC. During the reign of King Josiah, God raised up this young prophet to take God’s Word to Israel and the nations. Jeremiah flat out says you—along with me and everybody else—don’t have a good heart. In fact, not only is your heart not good, but your heart is wicked and sinful in all its ways. The prophet said, “The human heart is the most deceitful of all things, and desperately wicked. Who really knows how bad it is?” (Jer. 17:9 NLT).

Research studies reveal that most people tell multiple lies every day. We don’t want to hurt someone’s feelings. Or we want to make ourselves look good so we exaggerate. But the most common lies are the ones we tell ourselves. Have you ever done this? You tell yourself what you believe is true in your heart: I won’t eat much. I promise. Just a couple of bites. And the next thing you know you’re holding an empty bag of chips or licking the pan clean.

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. And the rationalizations continue. 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.

From my experience praying this prayer, God has often revealed my anxious thoughts and the fears fueling them. One of the first fears he revealed has also proven to be one of the most persistent. I’m terrified of failing. It started as a child playing baseball and feeling scared to death I’d strike out in front of my once professional-baseball-playing dad. As an adult, I’m afraid of striking out on my next sermon, my next project, or my responsibility to be a good dad. I’m scared to death to let people down, of not being enough, of not doing what needs to be done. I always feel inadequate.

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. So pray and step into your fear. Let God propel you forward by faith. Without faith, it’s impossible to please God. Remind yourself that you love pleasing God more than you fear failing.

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? Is there some area of your life that is challenged by others? Have loved ones expressed concern for you, or asked you to consider getting help?

In my own life, I’ve learned that when I’m defensive, that’s an indication I need to pay close attention and be open to what God wants to show me. If someone is suggesting a change in your life and you bark back, instead of barking, you would be wise to listen. If you sense that God is convicting you of something and you are quick to tell him why you don’t need to change, this is a clear signal to pause and heed his warning. I’ve found that the more convinced I am that I’m right about something, the more likely that I’m wrong.

As I reflect on my spiritual journey through this prayer, let me recap what God has been showing me. Search my heart, God. God showed me my hypocrisy. I often show people the me I want them to see. My words honor God, but my heart can be far from him. Know my anxious thoughts. I’m scared to death of not measuring up. I’m haunted by my insecurities. I’m paralyzed with fear that I don’t have what it takes to please people. See if there is any offensive way in me. Time and again, I’ve put the approval of people ahead of the approval of God. I’ve battled with wanting to be liked by people more than wanting to express my love for God. Lead me. And this is where the rubber meets the road. This is where things get real. This is where genuine, Spirit-filled, life-altering change becomes possible.

Then venture out into the deep waters of communication with God. Open your heart to healing from a divine God. Step into the beauty of God’s forgiveness and grace. Seek his unfailing, unconditional, and unquenchable love. And have the courage to pray this dangerous prayer. But don’t just pray it. Respond to what he shows you. Step through your greatest fear and into faith. Embrace your deepest need and let it drive you to depend on Christ.

That was the last thing I wanted to hear. To believe. To happen. I mean, I was obeying God and doing what he wanted me to do, right? Shouldn’t the opposite be true? Shouldn’t God reward me or at least not try to break me?

“It is doubtful whether God can bless a man greatly until he has hurt him deeply.” —a. w. tozer

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. God would have to break me of pride, of self-confidence, of self-sufficiency. And God would also have to break me of things that I didn’t even know needed to be removed from my life.

But my question then remains the same for all of us today: what are we losing by clinging to our comfort? What are we losing by clinging to our comfort? What are we missing out on because we’re so committed to avoiding pain and discomfort?

In some way, at some time, he showed her unconditional love when she had known only abuse. He treated her with dignity. He showed her respect. He honored her when others heaped shame. Jesus would have shown her the same love, same grace, same mercy that he offered to every repentant sinner that he’d ever encountered. Though she would have been full of shame, he helped her feel worthy. Though she would have felt worthless, he showed her that she had value. Though she was guilty of sin, Jesus offered her grace.

When she broke the bottle, she burned her bridges. No going back. She poured out all the perfume on Jesus, symbolizing that she would give him all of her life. She broke the jar and she poured it all out. Released it. Surrendered herself. Her act communicated more than any words. Jesus, here’s my life. It’s all yours. I’m holding nothing back.

As he had told them before, “There is no greater love than to lay down one’s life for one’s friends” (John 15:13 NLT).

Jesus isn’t inviting us to a life of comfort and ease, but one of surrender and sacrifice. Our highest desire shouldn’t be for our will to be done, but for his will to be done. And Jesus is inviting us to die to our own lives, so we can live moment by moment, day by day—for him. To leave our cozy living rooms and safe prayers in order to know what it means to be broken for the sake of others.

What if when Jesus said “do this,” he wasn’t just talking about a ritual that we do occasionally at church? What if he was also inviting us to be broken and poured out daily? What if he was inviting us to a life of humility, sacrifice, generosity, and joy? What if, instead of praying, “God watch over me, protect me, and bless me,” we invited God to do something deeper in our lives? What if we recognized that burdens can, with God’s help, become blessings? What if we embraced the truth that problems can make us stronger? That trials can strengthen our faith? That hurting can make us more compassionate for the plight of others? That suffering can draw us closer to Christ? What if we had the courage, the audacity, the faith to pray, “God, break me”? What if we too lived broken and poured-out lives for Christ?

It’s easy to impress people with our strengths, but real connections are forged through our shared weaknesses. What if rather than avoiding brokenness we embraced it? Welcomed it? And even prayed for it? “God, break me.”

In the brokenness and pouring out of his life, John found hope. In the middle of his worst pain, he discovered a peace from heaven that he didn’t have the words to explain. I had discovered it for myself. But now I saw it in him. In our brokenness, we often experience God’s greatest blessings.

The apostle Paul cried out desperately to God for healing and deliverance from some unknown trial. In three different seasons, Paul begged, pleaded, and petitioned God to take it away. But when God said no, Paul discovered something he would have missed otherwise.* God’s grace was enough. Who does God most often use? God uses those who are broken and dependent on him.

Years later, when Peter was asked to deny Christ, this time he refused. When the enemies of Christ wanted to crucify Peter on a cross, tradition tells us that he said he was unwilling to die as his Savior died. Instead, he asked to be crucified upside down. The same man who cowered in fear stood boldly in faith. He was a different man. Peter was broken and poured out.

We are each called to die daily. To be broken and poured out. To become dependent on God’s Spirit. To rely on him for our comfort, our guidance, our source of power. Being broken isn’t just a moment in time born out of a painful event. It’s a daily choice to die to pride. To crucify lust. To destroy selfishness. Rather than living a life of ease, it’s a choice to live a life of faith.

If there are blessings on the other side of brokenness, then break me.

Part 2: Break Me Scripture shows again and again how hard times can make us stronger and bring us closer to God. Describe a time when you experienced something difficult and yet recognized God’s goodness was with you in the trial. In chapter 2, we looked at 1 Corinthians 11:24, which says, “When [Jesus] had given thanks, he broke [the bread] and said, ‘This is my body, which is for you; do this in remembrance of me.” If you have been around church, you may have experienced Communion or the Lord’s Supper. What does this sacrament mean to you? Describe. Some might say that inviting God to “break them” is the most scary of the three dangerous prayers. If you had the courage to ask God to break you, what are you afraid he might do? If your fears actually came to pass, how do you think God would show himself to you? Who do you know that has experienced deep pain and is stronger spiritually on the other side of the brokenness? How is God using them now? If you took time to invite God to break you, what do you think he’d want to remove from your life first? Would he break you of selfishness? Of pride? Of self-sufficiency? Or of something else? Talk about it and explain why.