We’re praying bold prayers—and we’re watching heaven move.

That’s really all it is. Two ordinary people, one incredibly kind God, and a thousand prayers between us.

We didn’t have a polished plan or a ministry manual when God called us to plant a church.
We had a stirring. A whisper. A knowing that felt too sacred to explain and too weighty to ignore.

When we first started praying, it wasn’t fireworks or loud declarations. It was quiet conversations at our kitchen table. It was whispered questions that sounded more like, “Lord, is this really You?” It was slow mornings and late nights, full of listening and wondering, and waiting.

We prayed—and still do—about everything: the vision, the people, the timing, the city. We pray for wisdom, for strength, for courage to keep showing up even when things feel slow or unclear.

Some days our prayers sound full of faith. Other days, they sound more like deep sighs. But either way, they’re spoken boldly.

A few days ago, I was talking with a friend about all of it—the countless prayers, the circling back, the questions we keep bringing to God. I told her how often it feels like we’re saying the same things over and over again, asking for direction, for confirmation, for peace. She smiled and said, “He doesn’t mind.”

Man, I needed that. Maybe today you do too.

Such a simple truth, but it wrecked me in the best way. Because she was right.

He doesn’t mind when we ask again.
He doesn’t mind when our words stumble or our faith trembles.
He doesn’t mind our big dreams or our daily dependence.
He doesn’t mind when our faith feels bold one day and small the next.

Our Father isn’t keeping score—He’s keeping company.

He’s the God who never grows weary of your voice.
The God who leans in when you whisper His name.
The God who listens to every repetition, every tear, every “Lord, please,” with tenderness and joy.

Maybe that’s the part we forget sometimes. The part where He delights in the asking and deeply loves the asker.

So, let’s keep praying as He keeps moving. And even when we can’t see it, let’s keep going—because prayer doesn’t wait for proof; it walks forward with promise.

If you’re praying for something right now—something that feels impossible or unanswered—I just want to remind you:

He’s not annoyed by your persistence; He’s moved by your faith.
He’s not frustrated by your waiting; He’s forming you in it.

Ask again.
Cry out again.
Hope again.

Child of God—He doesn’t mind.