Whatever It Takes
On December 11, 2025, before my vision crisis, I shared the following:
“Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you” feels different when the tension is close to home. Enemy feels like a strong word when shared space no longer means shared connection.
Praying for people to get what they deserve is human nature. Praying in submission with surrender is Christlike. When I do not know what to pray, I simply say, “Lord, whatever it takes.” The outcome rests in His hands, and I trust Him to work where I cannot. Those words came from a place of strain that felt personal and unresolved. I did not know how much that prayer would continue to matter.
Since then, life has shifted in ways I could not have anticipated. My circumstances changed dramatically, but the prayer did not. It continues as I rest and recover.
Jesus’ command in Matthew 5:44 is easy to quote and difficult to live. Enemy sounds like a harsh label when conflict exists without open hostility. Sometimes the tension is quiet. Distance can grow even across the same room. In those situations, the natural response is to want relief, fairness, or visible change in the other person.
“Whatever it takes” moves the focus away from my preferences and toward God’s purposes. It acknowledges that He sees what I cannot see, knows what I cannot know, and understands every heart involved. The prayer places the situation in His hands instead of mine.
Since returning home from the hospital, my ability to serve has been limited. Tasks that once felt routine now require planning, assistance, or patience. This forced slowing has removed many distractions. What remains is time to pray. I cannot do everything I want to do, but I can pray all day, every day.
These prayers are not about what I want. They are about releasing everything to God. He is in control anyway. When I pray, “whatever it takes,” I am letting go of all that is not mine to carry.
“Whatever it takes” is not a demand for a specific outcome. It is surrender to God’s will, even when that will involves change in me rather than change in the situation. Sometimes the answer is peace amid unresolved tension. Sometimes it is clarity about what belongs to me and what does not. Sometimes it is the strength to endure a season that has not yet changed.
Praying this way does not excuse harmful behavior, nor does it eliminate the need for wisdom, boundaries, or accountability. Surrender is not passivity. It is trust that transformation belongs to God, not to me.
This season of recovery has brought that truth into the light. I cannot carry everything I once managed. Limitations have allowed me to release things that were never mine to control. Letting go is not weakness. It is obedience.
If you are walking through tension that feels too close, too complicated, or too heavy, you are not alone. This prayer does not require perfect faith or eloquent words. It requires willingness.
Lord, whatever it takes.
Hands that release are free to receive what God actually intends to give. Place the outcome in His hands and trust Him to work where you cannot.