I grew up in a church where prayer wasn’t just something we did to close a service—it was something we lived. After every message, the altar call wasn’t just a formality. There were these benches at the front, simple but sacred, where people would go kneel down and talk to God. And not just a quick “God bless me” kind of talk, no. I’m talking deep, honest, “God, it’s me again,” kind of conversations. You could see it—people pouring out their hearts, sometimes in tears, sometimes just quietly kneeling. It was a moment.

But what made it even more powerful were the helpers. That’s what we called them. Helpers.

Now think gym instructors. You know how they stand beside you while you’re doing reps, cheering you on? “Let’s go! You’ve got this! Just five more!” That was exactly what these helpers did—but in prayer.

They weren’t just random people. These were people who lived what they preached. People who showed up before the rest of us, sometimes an hour early, just to pray. To get their hearts right. To intercede for everyone who would come to the altar that day. These were people who had fought battles and seen victories. People who knew what it meant to wrestle in prayer. And when service ended and people started heading to the front to pray, that was their cue—it was show time.

They would quietly take their places. No drama, no spotlight. Sometimes they’d kneel beside someone and just say “Amen” under their breath. Other times, they’d whisper encouragement—“Don’t give up, Jesus is here. He’s listening.” Or they’d gently quote a verse, right on point, and somehow, that one verse would be just what you needed to hear. And when your own strength started to fail, they were right there. Helping you pray through. Helping you fight through.

And oh, the joy that would break out! You’d hear someone suddenly shout, “Thank You, Jesus!” and you just knew—that person had touched heaven. Tears. Laughter. Praise. It wasn’t chaos, but it was wild in the best way. People were having real encounters with God, and others were helping them get there.

I remember the day I was invited to be a helper. It felt like such an honor. To think that I could be that person for someone else. That I could stand in the gap and help another soul press through. It’s hard to describe what that felt like—to quietly kneel beside someone, maybe not even knowing what they were praying for, but standing with them in faith anyway.

That was years ago. And now I live in the West. Still attend the same church, but honestly? It’s different. That culture of praying through… that atmosphere of holy desperation and quiet strength—it’s not as easy to find. And sometimes, I catch myself wondering—will my kids ever know what that felt like? Or will I just be the one telling them stories about it?

But even in this new environment, one truth remains. We might not always have someone physically beside us at the altar anymore. We might not always have a helper whispering “Don’t give up” in our ears. But we’re never alone.

The Holy Spirit is the greatest helper of all.

He cheers us on in the quiet.

He prays for us when words fail.

He strengthens us when we feel like giving up.

So when you’re praying and you feel stuck—when you wonder if God is even listening—just remember, you’ve got a Helper beside you. You’re not alone. And victory is still possible.

And maybe… maybe it’s time we brought back that culture. Not in a loud, showy way, but gently. Humbly. Just showing up beside someone and saying, “Hey, I’ll pray with you.” Because sometimes, all a person needs is someone beside them—someone who believes, someone who helps them pray to victory.

Maybe you and I can be that someone.

Categories: My Christian Beliefs, My Devotionals

Tags: Christian, Christianity, Faith, Heritage, Intentional living, Prayer, Prayer culture, Religious, Resilience