Prayer: Our Heart Cry to God

September 14, 2025

The Spirit of Adoption in Prayer

Paul says in Romans 8:15–16, “You did not receive a spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you received the Spirit of adoption, by whom we cry, ‘Abba! Father!’ The Spirit himself testifies with our spirit that we are children of God.”


That’s one of the most freeing truths about prayer: it’s not a performance. It’s not about saying the right words in the right way. Prayer is simply the cry of our heart before God.



And those cries don’t all sound the same. Sometimes they’re heavy—full of fear, guilt, or grief. Other times they’re light—overflowing with joy and thanksgiving. But in both cases, it’s the Spirit at work, teaching us to say, “Abba, Father.”

From Fear to Confidence

Think about that word—Abba. It’s not formal. It’s not distant. It’s the word a child uses for their dad. It’s personal. It’s tender. It’s about belonging. And that’s what God invites us into when we pray—not because we’ve earned it, but because His Spirit makes it possible.


The truth is, we don’t always feel like God’s children. Sometimes we feel like outsiders. Sometimes fear or shame makes us wonder if God even wants to hear us. Paul calls that the “spirit of bondage leading to fear.” And if we’re honest, we all know what that feels like.


Maybe you’ve prayed before and thought, “Why would God listen to me? I don’t have the right words. I’m too broken.” But Scripture says—even those raw, stumbling cries count as prayer. In fact, they’re often signs that the Spirit is already drawing us closer to the Father.



And then, there are moments when something shifts. The Spirit reminds us: You really are God’s beloved child. And suddenly prayer feels different. It’s freer, more confident. Instead of whispering, “Lord, don’t reject me,” we find ourselves saying, “Father, thank You that I belong to You.” That’s the Spirit of adoption at work.

The Power of Praying Together

So here’s the point: whether your prayer feels weak and fearful, or bold and joyful—both are real. Both are holy. Both bring you before the Father who loves you.


And when we pray together, that truth becomes even more powerful. We don’t all come with the same story. Some of us are carrying wounds no one else sees. Some of us are bursting with joy. Some of us are carrying both at once. And all of that belongs in prayer.


Because in prayer, your cry can lift my faith. My thanksgiving can strengthen your weary heart. My plea for mercy can remind you of God’s grace. And together, those prayers weave into one chorus before our Father.



That’s why Paul says “our Father”—not just my Father. Prayer is never just me and God in a bubble. It’s always part of something bigger: the family of God. And families aren’t perfect. They carry differences and hurts. But what holds God’s family together isn’t sameness—it’s the Father’s love.

Rooted in Prayer, Growing in Oneness

The Psalms show us this. In Psalm 51, David prays out of desperation: “Have mercy on me, O God.” In Psalm 103, he prays out of joy: “Bless the Lord, O my soul.” Both are prayer. Both are real. Both come from the same lips. And sometimes, they come in the same breath.



So what does this mean for us? It means when you feel fear—pray. Don’t wait until it’s gone. When you feel joy—pray. Share it. And when you hear someone else’s cry—whether it’s pain or praise—you don’t have to fix it. You don’t have to judge it. Just join it. Because we share the same Father, and His Spirit teaches us all how to pray.


This is why prayer isn’t just important for our personal walk—it’s essential for our life together. We can try to build unity through plans and programs, but real unity only lasts when it’s rooted in prayer. Because prayer is where God shapes us, heals us, humbles us, and reminds us: we belong to Him, and we belong to one another.

< Older Post

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30 Years Beyond: Serving as an Embassy of the Kingdom of God

By CJ Rhodes • February 13, 2025
My first job after graduating from divinity school was with Mission Mississippi. I came to the ministry in 2009, which was a season of transition in this country and for the organization. Frankly, what was happening in national politics pulled back the veneer of racial tensions that still permeated the state then. People who worshipped, worked, and even played together were balkanized in ways that disclosed how much more work needed to be done to reconcile people who claimed to be reconciled to God. Fourteen years later, I serve as the chair of the board of directors. I can say that as much as things have changed for the better since 2009, there are ways in which racial tensions in this state are actually worse now in metropolitan Jackson and in enclaves throughout Mississippi. Thirty years ago, this ministry began to meet a need: racism and de facto racial segregation were and still are impediments to evangelism. How can a divided church witness to Christ’s love for lost people if the found folks cannot get along? That was the question then, and it remains a relevant one in 2023. Thirty years later, Mission Mississippi continues to see the need for this reconciling work because increasing numbers of people doubt that the gospel has any power to change lives and the enduring issues that plague our communities. I like to say that Mission Mississippi must serve as an embassy of the kingdom of God. “We are therefore Christ’s ambassadors, as though God were making his appeal through us. We implore you on Christ’s behalf: Be reconciled to God.” (2 Corinthians 5:20 NIV) We must see our ministry much like a diplomatic mission. We must commend the gospel in hostile territory where the conflict is hot. Younger generations are crying out for this. Millennials (like me) and Gen Zers believe that the gospel speaks holistically to the human condition; it is good news in the midst of bad news and even falsehoods. But our divisions blur this reality for many Mississippians who know how complicit the church has been in what ails us. Diplomats help conflicting parties see better. A few years ago, I decided it was time to get glasses. I’m nearsighted, which means objects further away are blurry to me. With my glasses, though, I can see clearer and make out important details on the horizon. At its best, Mission Mississippi is like a pair of corrective lenses. The gospel’s themes of love, mercy, justice, and salvation are blurry objects in the distance for people closer to hate, malice, injustice, and hopelessness. Our ministry can help them see clearer and further, so that “fixing our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of faith,” we can have a better vision of Mississippi where Christians live out the grace of the gospel unhindered by racism, racial strife, racial prejudice, racial hatred, and racial division throughout Mississippi and the world. Dr. CJ Rhodes, serves as the chairman of the Mission Mississippi Board of Directors, is pastor of Mt. Helm Baptist Church in Jackson, MS, and director of the Hiram Rhodes Revels Institute for Ethical Leadership at Alcorn State University.