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Prevailing Prayer: A Pastor’s Perspective

There is something powerful—something unmistakably divine—about prevailing prayer. As a pastor, I have witnessed firsthand the transformative power of persistent, faith-filled communion with God. It is not merely about repeating words, nor is it about moving heaven to match our will. Prevailing prayer is about aligning ourselves with the heart of God and pressing in until His purposes are revealed and fulfilled in our lives and communities.

The word “prevail” suggests a struggle, a pressing through. This kind of prayer is not for the faint of heart. It is the kind of prayer Jacob engaged in when he wrestled with the angel and declared, “I will not let thee go, except thou bless me”(Genesis 32:26). Jacob’s prevailing spirit brought about a name change and a destiny shift. His encounter teaches us that breakthrough often follows the battle in prayer.

James 5:16 declares, “The effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much.” There is a kind of prayer that avails much—prayer that is effectual, fervent, and rooted in righteousness. I have seen this in the lives of faithful saints who know how to tarry at the altar, refusing to be moved by what they see until they see what God has promised.

As a shepherd of God’s people, I feel deeply responsible to lead by example in this area. I cannot ask my church to be a praying church if I am not first a praying pastor. Jesus Himself modeled this for us. Mark 1:35 tells us, “And in the morning, rising up a great while before day, he went out, and departed into a solitary place, and there prayed.” If the Son of God needed solitude and time with the Father, how much more do we?

Prevailing prayer requires endurance. In Luke 18, Jesus spoke a parable about a widow who persistently appealed to an unjust judge until he finally granted her request. The lesson? “Men ought always to pray, and not to faint” (Luke 18:1). Prevailing prayer is not a one-time plea; it is a posture of persistence. It is Hannah pouring out her soul before the Lord until her barren womb gives birth to a prophet (1 Samuel 1). It is Elijah, bowing himself to the earth, sending his servant seven times to look for the rain cloud, unwilling to stop until the drought breaks (1 Kings 18:42–44).

There is an urgency in our day that demands this kind of prayer. The enemy is relentless, and passivity in the prayer closet will not withstand the warfare in the public square. We need praying pastors, praying parents, praying young people. We need intercessors who are willing to weep between the porch and the altar (Joel 2:17), who will stand in the gap so that the land is not destroyed (Ezekiel 22:30).

Church, we must return to prevailing prayer. We must stir ourselves again to seek the face of God—not for what He can do for us, but for who He is. Revival doesn’t come to the comfortable. It comes to the desperate. And desperation is born in the place of prevailing prayer.

So I ask you, as a pastor and fellow pilgrim on this journey of faith: will you join me at the altar? Will you contend with me for our families, our cities, our nation? The heavens are still open to those who will prevail in prayer. Let us press in, not give up, and believe again that our prayers can shake the heavens and shift the earth.

“Call unto me, and I will answer thee, and show thee great and mighty things, which thou knowest not” (Jeremiah 33:3). Let us prevail.