God, Hold Me - When You Struggle to Pray

“Let the bones you have crushed rejoice.” (Psalm 51:8, NIV)

“And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 4:7, NIV)

“Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you.” (1 Peter 5:7, NIV)

“But now that he is dead, why should I go on fasting? Can I bring him back again? I will go to him, but he will not return to me.” (2 Samuel 12:23, NIV)

“In him we live and move and have our being.” (Acts 17:28, NIV)

Sometimes God’s answer to our prayers is “no.” Those prayers become our most desperate moments.

I prayed for my daughter Taylor’s healing for eighteen years. Born with a rare genetic disease called Sanfilippo syndrome, she slowly lost every skill she had ever gained. I begged God to heal her and to help us find a cure. When I first read about the blood-brain barrier that prevented treatment from reaching her diseased cells, I cried buckets and wondered why God would create her with what’s called “the Alzheimer’s of childhood.”

But the next morning, I read the rest of the medical explanation. The same barrier that prevented the cure from reaching Taylor’s brain also protected it from other threatening cells. The barrier I saw as an obstacle, God designed as protection. That’s when my prayers shifted from asking for a cure to asking for courage.

King David knew this pain intimately. When his infant son became gravely ill, he pleaded with God for seven days, fasting and lying on the ground in sackcloth. When the child died, David’s response amazed everyone. He got up, washed, and went to worship. When asked why, he said, “Can I bring him back again? I will go to him, but he will not return to me.”

In Taylor’s final days, watching her struggle for every breath was agony beyond description. I couldn’t fix it. I couldn’t make it better. All I could do was whisper, “God, hold me.” In her last moments, I felt God wrap His arms around me with supernatural peace. I realized God was holding her in Heaven while simultaneously holding me on earth. My prayer for her healing had been answered, just not the way I expected.

When we ask God to hold us, we’re requesting His presence to envelop our souls so deeply that it’s unexplainable. We want His peace that surpasses understanding. But here’s what I learned: that peace comes through prayer, presenting our requests while remembering they are requests, not demands.

God’s definition of healing and mine may not align. From my perspective, healing meant physical recovery. But God’s definition encompassed spiritual growth, heart transformation, and alignment with His divine plan. Taylor received the ultimate healing: a perfect new body to match the beauty of her spirit.

God’s love goes beyond His “no” answers. His plan for our lives is broader than this present moment, and His ways are higher than ours. When you whisper, “God, hold me,” surrender your agenda and trust in Him. Remember that pain cannot grip you tighter than God’s grace.

When God’s answer is “no,” remember His love goes beyond the denial. He sees the whole picture while your view is limited. God is big enough to handle your sorrow, and His arms are wide enough to hold you in your pain. His peace doesn’t depend on circumstances changing. His peace is available, and you can trust His perfect plan.