I had someone recently ask me to pray with her.

She had just gone through something devastating – one of those moments that leaves a person hollowed out and shaking. The kind of pain that doesn’t just make you sad… it makes you disoriented. Like the world should not still be spinning the way it is.

What surprised me most wasn’t solely on what just happened to her. It was also that one of her first thoughts was to call me.

I don’t know her well. We aren’t best friends. We aren’t part of each other’s everyday lives. Yet, in the wake of devastation, her instinct was to reach out – then to ask if we could pray together while we were on the phone.

Right then.

Out loud.

And if you’re the kind of person who can effortlessly pray out loud with someone, I admire you. Truly. But I am not naturally that person. I’m usually the quiet kind of prayerful. The kind who whispers a simple “Lord, please keep Your hands on them,” and trusts God understands the rest. My prayers tend to be private, small, and personal – sometimes more like sighs than sentences. So the second she asked, I felt my heart seize up a little. Not because I didn’t want to pray.

But because I didn’t feel qualified.

And in that moment, I realized how easily we can believe that prayer is reserved for people who have the “right words,” the confidence, the spiritual fluency. Like you need a script. Like you need to sound holy for it to count.

But God doesn’t call the qualified.

He qualifies the called.

And I think that truth might be one of the greatest comforts we can cling to, especially when we feel weak and unprepared.

The Pressure of “Perfect Words”

There wasn’t time to prepare. No time to gather my thoughts into something eloquent. No time to quietly write down what I wanted to say.

It was simply: she asked, and I had to respond.

Afterward, I kept thinking about lyrics that have stayed with me for years:

“Father, hear my prayer. I need the perfect words – Words that He will hear and know they’re straight from You.”

• “Here I Go Again” – Casting Crowns

Because that was exactly how I felt. I wanted the perfect words. Not because I needed to sound impressive – but because she was hurting. Because what do you say in the presence of devastation? When someone has just had their world shaken?

There’s a unique kind of pressure that comes with praying with someone else. It’s vulnerable. It feels personal. And it exposes our hidden fear:

What if I don’t do it right?

What if I make it worse?

What if I say something theologically wrong?

What if I don’t know how to comfort them?

But here’s the thing: grief doesn’t need flawless phrasing. Grief needs love. Grief needs someone willing to stay. Grief needs a reminder – sometimes through tears and trembling – that God is not far away.

The Verse That Rose Up in My Heart

As I prayed, something happened that I can’t shake.

A verse popped into my head – one that has brought me immense comfort in my own hardest seasons:

“The Lord is near to the brokenhearted, and saves the crushed in spirit.”
(Psalm 34:18)

It didn’t feel like a random memory. It felt like a gift. Like God was saying: You don’t need to manufacture comfort. I already have it. I will supply what you lack.

And if you have ever experienced something like that – where the right Scripture rises up at exactly the right moment – you know how holy it feels.

Not dramatic.

Not theatrical.

Just… real.

That verse was the anchor. It reminded me of what we forget too easily when life gets brutal: God is not repelled by suffering. He is drawn to it.

He doesn’t keep His distance until we have ourselves together. He does not wait at the finish line for you to stop crying. He is not impressed by composure or performance.

The Lord is near to the brokenhearted.

Near.

Not watching from far away. Not offering distant sympathy. Near enough to sustain. Near enough to hold. Near enough to carry.

God’s Nearness Isn’t Always Loud

We often imagine God “coming near” in ways that feel powerful and unmistakable. We want signs. We want certainty. We want the kind of comfort that makes pain disappear overnight.

But Psalm 34:18 doesn’t promise that the brokenhearted will instantly feel better.

It promises something deeper: Presence.

God draws near to the brokenhearted. He does not abandon them in the dark. He does not punish them with silence. He does not leave them to crumble alone.

Sometimes His nearness looks like the right person calling at the right time, someone reaching out to pray, Scripture surfacing in your mind like a lamp in the dark, the ability to breathe again after sobbing, or even one small moment of “I can make it through today.”

God’s nearness is not always emotional fireworks.

Sometimes it’s simply the grace to endure.

Prayer Is Not Performance. It’s Presence.

One of the most tender realizations I had from that phone call was this: Prayer isn’t a performance. It’s presence.

We treat prayer like we have to get it right. Like we have to be articulate. Like we have to be “spiritual enough.” But prayer is not about impressing God.

Prayer is about turning toward Him.

And when someone is crushed in spirit, the bravest thing we can do is turn toward God on their behalf – even if our voice shakes, even if the prayer is simple, even if we feel unqualified.

God does not need us to be impressive.

He just asks us to be available.

When We Don’t Know What to Pray, God Provides

If you’ve ever felt intimidated by prayer – especially praying out loud – Romans gives you such a profound truth:

“The Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but the Spirit Himself intercedes…”
(Romans 8:26)

Read that again.

The Spirit helps us in our weakness. Not after we feel strong. Not once we’ve mastered prayer. Not when we’ve become perfect at expressing ourselves.

In weakness.

When we don’t know what to say. When we’re stumbling through sentences. When we feel like we’re failing.

The Spirit intercedes.

This is why the quote rings so true:

God doesn’t call the qualified—He qualifies the called.

You may not feel qualified to pray over someone. But if God put you there… He will provide. If He invited you into that moment… He will equip you.

God Comforts Us So We Can Comfort Others

Another Scripture that ties beautifully into this experience is:

“Blessed be the God… who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction…”
(2 Corinthians 1:3–4)

Sometimes we view our own suffering like it was wasted time. Like hardship has no purpose except to damage us. But God, in His mercy, does something incredibly redemptive:

He transforms our wounds into places of compassion. He allows what we’ve survived to become a bridge for others.

The verse that came to mind during that prayer was not random – it was familiar. It was meaningful. It had comforted me.

And I think that’s part of why God brought it up. God doesn’t just heal hearts privately. He creates comfort that multiplies. He turns pain into mercy. He turns the broken into people who can recognize brokenness in others.

You Don’t Have to Be a “Prayer Person” to Pray

If you’ve ever felt like prayer isn’t your thing – if you’ve ever felt awkward, uncertain, intimidated, or unqualified – let this be your reminder:

You do not have to be eloquent to be used by God.

You do not have to sound perfect.

You do not have to have a formal prayer memorized.

You do not have to know what to say.

You just have to be willing.

Sometimes the most powerful prayers sound like:

“Jesus, help her.” “Lord, be near.” “Father, hold her heart.” “Mary, wrap her in your mantle.” “God, please don’t let her feel alone.”

God is not grading your grammar. God is responding to faith. And when someone is hurting, a short prayer offered with love can be a lifeline.

What It Means to Be Near

There is a unique kind of holiness in simply being near. Not trying to fix. Not trying to problem-solve. Not turning someone’s pain into a sermon.

Just being near.

Because that’s what God does. He draws near to the brokenhearted. And sometimes He chooses to express His nearness through His people.

To the reader who feels unqualified:

God doesn’t ask you to be a saint in the stained-glass way. He asks you to love. To stay. To pray anyway.

And that phone call reminded me that God’s nearness is not theoretical – it becomes tangible through His people.

Next Steps

If you want a framework to keep in your back pocket for moments like this, here’s one that’s helped me:

1) Acknowledge the pain: “Lord, You see her hurt. You know what she’s carrying.”

2) Ask for nearness: “Be close to her. Remind her she is not alone.”

3) Speak Scripture: “The Lord is near to the brokenhearted…” (Psalm 34:18)

4) Ask for strength: “Give her peace that surpasses understanding.”

5) Entrust her to God: “Hold her in Your hands. Carry her when she can’t stand.”

That’s it. No perfect words required.

Closing Prayer

Lord,

You are near to the brokenhearted. You do not abandon those who are crushed in spirit. You are present even in devastation – especially in devastation.

Teach us not to fear being unqualified. Make us willing vessels of comfort.

When we don’t know what to say, give us Your words. When we feel weak, reveal Your strength. Bring healing to every heart that is hurting today. And remind us, again and again, that You are near.

Amen.