There are days when prayer feels like silence—when the words will not come, when the ache is louder than the faith, when the body remembers what the spirit is trying to forget. I have been there. And I have learned that in those moments, standing in the gap is holy.
To stand in the gap is to hold space when someone cannot; to whisper when they have lost their voice; to cry out when they have gone numb; to believe when they are buried under disbelief. This is the work of care partners. This is the rhythm of sanctuary. This is the ministry of presence.
When prayer feels impossible, we do not force it. We do not shame the silence. We become the silence. We become the breath. We become the gap. I have seen healing happen not through eloquence, but through witness—through someone saying, “I will pray for you until you can pray again.” Through someone lighting a candle and whispering your name into the dark.
So if today you cannot pray, know that someone is standing in the gap for you. Know that care is still moving. Know that healing is still happening. And when you are ready, you will return to the altar—not alone, but held.