Justice Delayed, Not Denied

Praying Until the Kingdom Comes

When Heaven Seems Silent: Faith That Endures

Always Pray and Never Lose Heart

Keep Knocking: The Power of Persevering Prayer

Verse by Verse Study of Luke 18:1-8

Praying in the Waiting — The Coming of God’s Kingdom

As Jesus made His way toward Jerusalem, His teaching increasingly focused on perseverance and readiness for the coming kingdom of God. Just before sharing this parable on persistent faith, He spoke about that very kingdom, saying, “The coming of the kingdom of God is not something that can be observed… because the kingdom of God is in your midst” (Luke 17:20–21). With these words, Jesus revealed that God’s kingdom is not marked by outward display or political power—it begins within, where His reign transforms the human heart and mind. By His Spirit, God reshapes our thoughts, desires, and actions, fulfilling Paul’s exhortation: “Be transformed by the renewing of your mind” (Romans 12:2). The inward rule of Christ changes how we see the world and how we live within it. Yet the disciples still longed for visible signs of justice and deliverance. Jesus knew their faith would be tested by delay, hardship, and silence, so He told this parable to prepare them for the in-between—the time between His first coming and His final return—when the kingdom, already planted within them, would one day be revealed in glory.

This is the sacred tension of the Christian life: the “already” and the “not yet.” The kingdom of God is already present in every believer, for “Christ in you [is] the hope of glory” (Colossians 1:27). His indwelling presence gives us strength to persevere in faith and in prayer. Though the fullness of the kingdom has not yet appeared, we live as its ambassadors, carrying within us the righteousness, peace, and joy of the Holy Spirit (Romans 14:17). Through prayer we participate in God’s unfolding work, echoing the words Jesus taught us: “Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done.” In that prayer, hope and faith meet—the hope of glory already alive within us, and the faith that looks forward to the day when God’s justice will fill the earth as the waters cover the sea.

Opening Prayer

Heavenly Father,

We come before You with grateful hearts, ready to learn from Your Word and from the parable Your Son told about persistent prayer and unwavering faith. Teach us, Lord, what it means to live in the tension between the kingdom that is already within us and the kingdom that is yet to come. Let Your Spirit work in us to renew our minds, transform our desires, and align our will with Yours.

Lord Jesus, You taught us to pray, “Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.” As we study these verses, deepen our faith to keep praying even when we do not yet see the answer. Help us to trust that Your justice and mercy are never delayed, only perfectly timed. Strengthen our hope that “Christ in us is the hope of glory” and remind us that through prayer we share in the work of Your kingdom. May this time draw us nearer to You, renew our hearts with perseverance, and anchor our souls in Your unfailing love.

In Your holy name we pray, Amen.

Verse 1 — The Key: Pray and Not Faint

Jesus calls His disciples to steadfast prayer in times of silence and delay.

“Then Jesus told his disciples a parable to show them that they should always pray and not give up.” Luke 18:1 NIV

Jesus begins this parable by teaching that His followers “should always pray and not give up.” It is, as Matthew Henry said, “the key hanging at the door,” revealing from the outset that persistence in prayer is essential to faith. When heaven seems silent and hope is delayed, prayer becomes the soul’s act of endurance. The widow in the story represents the Church—small, seemingly powerless, yet refusing to be silenced. Her persistence is the Church’s perseverance through centuries of persecution, doubt, and waiting—an enduring testimony that faith, not force, sustains the people of God. In every age, this widow’s voice becomes the Church’s own: humble yet bold, weary yet unbroken, calling upon heaven until the kingdom fully comes.

Through her, Jesus calls His disciples to keep trusting even when answers do not come easily, to believe that unseen grace is still at work in waiting. Eugene Peterson reminds us that “prayer is the equalizer of humanity,” where the powerful and the powerless stand together before God as equals. To pray is to refuse despair—to keep our hearts turned toward the One who listens when the world does not. As E. Stanley Jones said, “Prayer aligns my will to the will of God.” Such prayer does not merely seek results; it shapes the soul into steadfast faith. Persistent prayer, born of dependence and sustained by hope, becomes the lifeline that holds us close to God when everything else tempts us to let go.

Verse 2 — The Judge: Power Without Conscience

A portrait of corrupt authority that magnifies the goodness and justice of God.

“He said: “In a certain town there was a judge who neither feared God nor cared what people thought.” Luke 18:2 NIV

Jesus describes a judge who “neither feared God nor cared what people thought”—a picture of power stripped of conscience. William Barclay identifies him as a corrupt Roman magistrate, one of the notorious Dayyaneh Gezeloth, or “robber judges,” who sold verdicts to the highest bidder. Matthew Henry calls him “a perfect stranger to both godliness and honor,” while Alexander Maclaren exposes his soul as “a deep depth of selfishness.” This is authority gone cold—an office meant to uphold justice now turned inward for comfort and gain. As Michael Card observes, he is “an irresponsible authority figure—terrifyingly negligent with power.” In him, Jesus paints the worst possible image of earthly justice to magnify the mercy and integrity of God.

In such a world, Ecclesiastes’ words ring true: “In the place of justice—wickedness was there.” Yet even this dark portrayal becomes a doorway to hope. N. T. Wright reminds us, “If even a corrupt judge can be persuaded to do justice, how much more the Judge who is Justice itself.” The parable does not deny the presence of human corruption; it points us beyond it. When earthly systems fail, God’s justice still stands unshaken. The Judge of all the earth will do right, and His verdicts are never for sale. Faith endures by remembering that divine righteousness will, in the end, outlast every unjust court and every hardened heart.

Verse 3 — The Widow: Weakness Made Strong

Faith that refuses to be silenced becomes the strength that moves heaven. 

“And there was a widow in that town who kept coming to him with the plea, ‘Grant me justice against my adversary.’” Luke 18:3 NIV

The widow in Jesus’ story stands as the embodiment of persistence in the face of powerlessness. Poor, ignored, and defenseless, she represents all who must depend on God alone. Her continual cry for justice echoes through the ages as a testimony of faith that refuses to give up. Alexander Maclaren called her “the image of the Church—helpless yet holy in her persistence,” a living picture of believers who will not stop trusting even when the world seems deaf. In her loneliness, she reflects the Church’s calling to live by faith, not by sight—to keep pleading for mercy, truth, and justice in a world that often mocks such hope. Her holiness is revealed not in perfection, but in perseverance; she keeps coming, keeps believing, keeps knocking. 

Her weakness becomes strength, for it drives her again and again to the only One who can make things right. Eugene Peterson captures her courage when he writes, “After a lifetime of being ignored, she keeps praying. Prayer restores her dignity.” Her voice, long silenced by indifference, becomes a song of faith. She reminds us that prayer is not a privilege of the powerful but the inheritance of the humble. When every other avenue closes, faith keeps knocking, certain that the Judge of all the earth will do right. Through her persistence, we learn that true strength is not in control but in trust—the courage to keep believing when nothing seems to change.

Verses 4–5 — The Reluctant Response

Persistence breaks through indifference and teaches us to trust God’s willingness, not overcome His reluctance.

“For some time he refused. But finally he said to himself, ‘Even though I don’t fear God or care what people think, yet because this widow keeps bothering me, I will see that she gets justice, so that she won’t eventually come and attack me!’ ” Luke 18:4-5 

The judge’s refusal reveals the heartlessness of human authority—power without compassion. For a time he ignores the widow’s pleas, unmoved by justice or mercy. Yet her persistence becomes a quiet force that wears down his indifference. Alexander Maclaren writes, “If her dropping plea could wear away such a stone, its like could wear away anything.” The widow’s continual cries, like steady drops of rain upon rock, reveal how patient faith can soften even the hardest resistance. Her persistence is not forceful but faithful—it does not strike in anger but endures in hope. What seemed immovable begins to yield, not because of her strength, but because of her steadfastness. In the same way, Maclaren reminds us that prayer may appear weak to the world, yet it is the mightiest force in the kingdom of God. 

Every whispered plea, every tear of faith, becomes part of that divine persistence that, over time, wears away despair and opens the way for God’s justice to shine through. Jesus uses this tension to show that steadfast faith is not passive waiting but active perseverance—a trust that refuses to quit even when the answer is delayed. As John Stott reminds us, “Perseverance in prayer is not overcoming God’s reluctance but laying hold of His willingness.” Persistence in prayer does not change who God is; it changes who we are.  “Be transformed by the renewing of your mind” (Romans 12:2) becomes the lived experience of those who keep praying, for prayer reorders our hearts to God’s will and reshapes our minds to His truth. The widow’s faith becomes a mirror for our own—a call to keep trusting, keep asking, and keep believing that God’s silence is never indifference, but the quiet space where faith is refined. Through such persistence, the believer’s heart grows in likeness to Christ, learning to rest in His timing and to live by His transforming grace.

Verses 6–7 — The Divine Contrast

The loving Judge of all the earth hears every cry, though His answers come in His perfect time.

“And the Lord said, “Listen to what the unjust judge says. And will not God bring about justice for his chosen ones, who cry out to him day and night? Will he keep putting them off?” Luke 18:6-7 NIV

Jesus draws the contrast sharply: if an unjust judge can finally be moved to act, how much more will a righteous and loving God respond to His children. What seems like delay is not indifference but divine timing shaped by wisdom. Alexander Maclaren reminds us, “Heaven’s clock does not beat at our rate.” God’s justice is never late, only patient. Those who cry out to Him day and night are invited to trust that His silence is not absence, but preparation. The persistence of faith becomes its own testimony—a steady belief that the Judge of all the earth will indeed do right.

In this divine courtroom, human pride and hierarchy fall away. Eugene Peterson beautifully captures it: “Prayer erases social hierarchy; kings and beggars kneel as equals.” Before God, all stand as petitioners—equally heard, equally loved. When prayers linger unanswered, faith must wait with confidence that God’s verdict will come in His perfect time. Every moment of delay becomes a training ground for deeper trust, where hope matures and love endures.

Verse 8 — The Question of Faith

True faith endures through silence, trusting that divine justice will prevail. 

“I tell you, he will see that they get justice, and quickly. However, when the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on the earth?”Luke 18:8 NIV

 

Jesus ends the parable with both a promise and a question. He assures His followers that God will bring justice, yet asks, “When the Son of Man comes, will He find faith on the earth?” It is a question that reveals both hope and sorrow. Alexander Maclaren reminds us, “God’s delays are for our profit,” for waiting deepens trust and strengthens endurance. The parable’s closing words turn the spotlight from the unjust judge to the believer’s heart—will we still trust when the answer tarries? Jesus calls His disciples not to measure faith by how quickly prayers are answered but by how steadfastly they continue to believe when heaven seems silent.

N. T. Wright captures the heart of Jesus’ question: “This is about God’s ultimate vindication of His people. The challenge is to keep faith alive while we wait for His just verdict.” Faith that endures the long night is the faith that will welcome the dawn. Christ’s return will not test God’s faithfulness, but ours—whether, in a world of weariness and doubt, we have learned to pray and not lose heart. Persistent faith looks beyond delay to the certainty of divine justice, trusting that God’s timing, though mysterious, is always merciful.

“Thy Kingdom Come” — Faith That Endures Until Justice Is Complete

The parable of the persistent widow invites us into the very heart of persevering faith. It reminds us that prayer is not a means of persuading a reluctant God, but a process through which we are transformed into people who trust His timing, character, and purpose. Like the widow, the Church is called to keep believing and praying even when the heavens seem silent. Her persistence is a symbol of holy endurance—faith that refuses to yield to despair. Through continual prayer, our hearts are softened, our perspectives renewed, and our wills brought into harmony with God’s. As Paul teaches, “Be transformed by the renewing of your mind” (Romans 12:2); persistence in prayer is how that transformation unfolds. In the waiting, we discover that God’s delays are never denials—they are invitations to deeper faith, purer motives, and clearer vision.

The widow’s story calls us to live with that same steadfast endurance, praying, “Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done,” until the day His justice fills the earth and His glory fills our hearts completely. To pray for God’s kingdom is to welcome His reign not only over the world’s injustices but also within the territory of our own hearts. As His Spirit renews our minds, the kingdom within us—the presence of “Christ in you, the hope of glory” (Colossians 1:27)—becomes the source of hope that sustains us while we wait for the kingdom to come in fullness. Persistent prayer shapes us into citizens of that eternal kingdom—people whose faith endures through silence, whose hope is anchored in promise, and whose lives reflect the justice, mercy, and glory of God until the day all things are made new.

Jesus’ haunting question still lingers: “When the Son of Man comes, will He find faith on the earth?” (Luke 18:8). The answer is found in the hearts that continue to pray those same words—“Thy kingdom come”—not as empty repetition but as steadfast hope. Each prayer uttered in faith is a declaration that God’s promises are true and that His reign is near. In every generation, God looks for hearts that will keep believing, keep waiting, and keep praying until His kingdom breaks forth in glory. May our lives be the answer to that question—lives that persevere in love, endure in faith, and echo heaven’s cry until earth and heaven are one.

Closing Prayer

Heavenly Father,

We thank You for the truth of Your Word and for this parable that reminds us to pray and not lose heart. You are the righteous Judge, full of mercy and compassion, who never grows weary of hearing the cries of Your people. Teach us, Lord, to be like the persistent widow—steadfast in faith, humble in spirit, and confident in Your goodness. When answers seem delayed, help us remember that Your timing is perfect and Your purposes are good.

Transform us, O Lord, by the renewing of our minds. Let prayer become not only our refuge but our way of life—shaping our thoughts, desires, and actions until they align with Your will. May Christ in us, the hope of glory, be the power that sustains us to keep praying, keep believing, and keep hoping. We echo the words Jesus taught us, not as mere repetition but as a living confession of faith: “Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.”

Lord Jesus, when You return, may You find in us hearts full of faith—hearts that have learned to wait well, to trust deeply, and to love continually. Let Your kingdom grow within us and through us until Your justice fills the earth and Your glory fills our hearts completely.

In Your holy and precious name we pray, Amen.

Soli Deo Gloria

Breathe Prayers

The Rhythm of Grace

“Let everything that has breath praise the Lord.” 

Psalm 150:6

Life begins and ends with breath — the first gift we receive and the last we return to God. Between those two sacred moments, every inhale and exhale carries a rhythm of grace, a pulse of divine presence sustaining us. Breath is not merely a physical act; it is a spiritual reminder that we live by the mercy of God.

Long before the language of “mindfulness” entered our world, early Christians practiced what they called breath prayers — short, simple prayers whispered in rhythm with breathing. They discovered that prayer need not be confined to words spoken aloud or hours spent in solitude; it could be as near and natural as the breath itself. Each inhale became a receiving of God’s Spirit; each exhale, a release of all that burdens the soul.

The prayer that follows, adapted from St. Augustine, captures the essence of this rhythm. It invites the Holy Spirit to breathe through us — to sanctify our thoughts, purify our love, and transform even our breathing into praise. In praying it slowly, line by line, you join the ancient stream of believers who found in their very breath a way to worship.

Opening Prayer

Breathe in me, O Holy Spirit,

that my thoughts may be holy.

Breathe out of me, O Holy Spirit,

that I may love purely and serve faithfully.

Let every breath I take be an act of praise,

until my last exhale becomes my Amen.

— Adapted from St. Augustine

As we breathe this prayer, we enter a silence older than words — the same stillness that drew the early monks and nuns into the desert, where they discovered that prayer could be as simple and steady as breathing. These early seekers of God learned that to pray without ceasing was not a matter of constant speech, but of constant awareness — of keeping the heart attuned to the Spirit’s rhythm. In the quiet pulse of their breath, they found communion with the One who gives life.

It was in this spirit that the first breathe prayers took form — short, sacred phrases that carried the worshiper from distraction to devotion, from anxiety to peace.

1. The Ancient Practice

The roots of breathe prayers stretch back to the desert fathers and mothers of the 3rd and 4th centuries. In solitude, they discovered that the shortest prayers often reached deepest into the soul. The “Jesus Prayer” emerged from this simplicity:

“Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.”

The monk Evagrius Ponticus taught, “If you are a theologian, you will pray truly; and if you pray truly, you are a theologian.” For him, true knowledge of God was born from continual prayer. Breath prayer became the theologian’s heartbeat — knowing God not through study alone, but through the steady rhythm of presence.

St. John Cassian later wrote that the desert monks repeated brief prayers to “hold the mind in continual awareness of God.” Such practice gave birth to the tradition of the hesychasts — contemplatives who sought stillness (hesychia) through unceasing prayer. As one early monk said, “Sit in your cell, and your cell will teach you everything.”

2. Breath as Communion

When God formed Adam, “He breathed into his nostrils the breath of life” (Genesis 2:7). That same breath — the ruach in Hebrew, pneuma in Greek — is the Spirit of God. To breathe, then, is to participate in the ongoing act of creation. Every inhale draws in the Spirit’s life; every exhale releases anxiety, fear, and striving.

The Trappist monk Thomas Keating described this divine exchange beautifully:

“Silence is God’s first language; everything else is a poor translation. In order to hear that language, we must learn to be still and to rest in God.”

For Keating, breath was a doorway into that silence — the place where presence replaces performance and being with God becomes more important than doing for God. He wrote, “The breath is the bridge between the body and the spirit. It anchors us in the present moment where God’s presence is always unfolding.”

And in another reflection, Keating added:

“When we breathe in God’s presence, we exhale our false selves.”

Each breath becomes both surrender and renewal — a letting go of illusion and a returning to truth.

St. Teresa of Avila compared prayer to breathing when she said, “Prayer is nothing else than being on terms of friendship with God.” In her moments of exhaustion, she would simply breathe and whisper, “God alone suffices.” For Teresa, as for so many contemplatives, the breath itself became communion — a meeting place of love and surrender.

Eugene Peterson echoes this in our age: “Prayer is the language of dependence.” In breath prayer, we are reminded that even the act of breathing is grace sustaining us, moment by moment.

3. Learning to Pray with the Breath

You don’t need a monastery or a long list of words to begin. Try this:

• Find a quiet place. Sit comfortably and close your eyes.
  
  
• Inhale slowly and pray a phrase of invocation, such as “Abba, Father” or “Jesus, my peace.”
  
  
• Exhale gently and pray a phrase of surrender, such as “I am Yours” or “Have mercy on me.”
  
  
• Repeat for a few minutes, letting the rhythm draw you into stillness.
  
  

Julian of Norwich, who received her visions during a time of sickness and isolation, discovered in her breathing that “All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well.” Her calm confidence was not denial of pain but the fruit of abiding breath by breath in divine love.

St. John of the Cross, writing from the darkness of imprisonment, likened the soul’s union with God to the breathing of lovers: “Each breath is love, and each sigh is grace.” To breathe prayerfully, then, is to enter the flow of divine love that sustains all life.

4. The Kyrie Eleison — A Breathe Prayer of Mercy

“Lord, have mercy on us.” — Psalm 123:3

“Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me.” — Luke 18:38

The ancient words Kyrie eleison — Greek for “Lord, have mercy” — have echoed through Christian worship for nearly two thousand years. Long before written liturgies, monks and nuns repeated these words in rhythm with their breathing. It is the simplest prayer of the heart, both confessional and hopeful — a plea for mercy and a resting in grace.

To pray Kyrie eleison is to breathe grace in and out. It unites body and soul in humble dependence. St. John Climacus, a 7th-century monk, wrote, “Let the remembrance of Jesus be united to your breath, and then you will know the value of silence.” Each inhalation becomes an invitation; each exhalation, a surrender.

How to Pray the Kyrie as a Breathe Prayer

• Inhale: Kyrie — “Lord”
  
  
• Exhale: Eleison — “Have mercy”
  
  

Repeat slowly, letting the breath find its own rhythm. Feel the mercy of God entering with every inhale, and your burdens releasing with every exhale.

Brother Lawrence once said, “There is not in the world a kind of life more sweet and delightful than that of a continual conversation with God.” This is what the Kyrie becomes — a continual conversation of mercy, as close as the breath within us.

5. Examples of Breathe Prayers

Inhale	Exhale
Lord Jesus Christ	Have mercy on me
Abba, Father	I belong to You
The Lord is my Shepherd	I shall not want
Be still	and know that I am God
Come, Holy Spirit	Fill me with peace
When I am afraid	I will trust in You

Hildegard of Bingen, the 12th-century abbess and mystic, described the Spirit as “the life of the life of all creatures — who breathes in everything that is.” To her, every inhalation was participation in that sacred vitality. Through such simple prayers, the ordinary act of breathing becomes a sanctified act of praise.

Thomas Merton, a modern Trappist monk, once reflected, “My life is a listening; my silence is my answer.” Breathe prayers train us to listen more than to speak — to attend to the Spirit’s whisper beneath the noise.

6. The Gift of Simplicity

In an age of distraction, breath prayer anchors us in simplicity. It teaches us to dwell, not to rush; to rest, not to achieve.

Richard Foster reminds us, “The key to prayer is not its length or eloquence but the heart that listens.” Breath prayer invites that kind of listening — a return to the still center where God’s voice is gentle but sure. It’s not about mastering a technique but about becoming available to Presence. As Foster also writes in Celebration of Discipline, “Prayer catapults us onto the frontier of the spiritual life.” Every breath, then, becomes a frontier of grace — the meeting point between divine invitation and human response.

Richard Foster teaches that true simplicity is a paradox—both grace and discipline. It is first a gift freely given by God, not something we can manufacture through willpower or self-denial. As the old Shaker hymn says, “’Tis the gift to be simple, ’tis the gift to be free,” reminding us that simplicity begins with grace. Yet the hymn continues, “turn, and turn, till we turn round right,” showing that this gift also calls for our ongoing cooperation with God. Simplicity, then, is not about external minimalism but an inner freedom that flows from resting in God’s presence. We receive it as grace, but we nurture it through practice—continually turning our hearts back to God, resisting distraction, and living with contentment. In this way, simplicity becomes both the gift we receive and the life we learn to live, much like the rhythm of breathing itself.

Carlo Carretto, the 20th-century hermit of the Sahara, captured this same spirit of holy simplicity when he wrote,“To be with God, there is no need to complicate things. It is enough to breathe, to be still, and to let love flow in silence.” For Carretto, prayer was not an escape from life but a deeper participation in it — a resting in love that simplified everything else. In the desert’s quiet, he discovered that “God speaks in the silence of the heart, and the heart must be quiet to hear.”

Like the tide that returns again and again to the shore, breath prayer brings us back to that steady rhythm of grace. The Desert Father Abba Isaac once said, “The goal of every monk and of every Christian is to be always with God.” Breath prayer is how we begin — and how we continue — that lifelong companionship.

Closing Reflection

In recent years, breathing exercises have found their way into nearly every arena of life. Elite athletes train their lungs to sharpen focus and sustain endurance. Corporations teach controlled breathing to reduce stress and enhance creativity. Wellness programs and mindfulness apps encourage deep breathing as a way to restore balance and calm. Science is only now confirming what the saints and mystics knew long ago — that breath holds the key to centering the body, quieting the mind, and awakening the soul.

Yet for the follower of Christ, breathing becomes more than a tool for calm — it becomes communion. Each breath is participation in the Spirit’s sustaining work, a silent acknowledgment that life, strength, and peace come from God alone. When we breathe with intention, we join an unbroken chorus of creation that “groans” and “sighs” in harmony with the Spirit (Romans 8:26).

When words fail and emotions overwhelm, remember that your breath itself is prayer — the Spirit breathing life into your weakness, hope into your weariness, and peace into your unrest. The rhythm of breath is the rhythm of grace: God’s life flowing in and through you, moment by moment.

“The Spirit of God has made me; 

the breath of the Almighty gives me life.” 

Job 33:4

Prayer

Lord Jesus Christ,

as I breathe in, fill me with Your Spirit.

As I breathe out, wash me in Your mercy.

In every breath I take,

may I remember Your nearness,

and rest in Your love that never fails.

Kyrie eleison. Christe eleison. Kyrie eleison.

(Lord, have mercy. Christ, have mercy. Lord, have mercy.)

Suggested Hymns & Songs

Breathe on Me, Breath of God — Edwin Hatch

Spirit of the Living God, Fall Afresh on Me — Daniel Iverson

Epilogue

And so we live, and move, and breathe in Him —

until our last Amen becomes our first Hallelujah.

Soli Deo Gloria