Hauwa was frying plantain when the lesson arrived. It was a Saturday afternoon in her flat in Gbagada. The jollof rice was almost done, there were visitors coming at five, and the kitchen was thick with the smell of hot oil and pepper. For three weeks she had been carrying a decision that would not leave her alone. Her ministry had offered her a transfer to its headquarters in Abuja. It was a promotion, the kind of opportunity that does not come twice. It would also mean uprooting her husband’s business, moving the children’s schools and leaving the church family that had held her together for twelve years.
She had been praying about it constantly. But if she was honest, her prayers had a nervous, apologetic sound. Lord, I am sorry to bring this to You again. I know there are people with far bigger problems. I do not want to be a bother. If it is not too much to ask, maybe You could give me some kind of sign. And underneath the apology sat another fear she hardly admitted, even to herself. She was not entirely sure she wanted to hear what God might say. What if He said yes, and she had to go? What if He said no, and she missed her chance?
Into the middle of this walked her youngest daughter, six years old, still in her bathroom slippers. She stood in the kitchen doorway, put her hands on her hips, and announced, “Mummy, I want rice and dodo. And can I have two pieces of meat? And can I eat in the parlour and watch cartoons?”
No preamble. No apology. No anxious survey of whether this was a convenient moment.
Hauwa laughed. “Rice and dodo, yes. One piece of meat, because there are visitors coming and we need the rest. And no, you will eat at the table like everybody else.”
PunchlineHer daughter considered this for exactly one second. “Okay!” she said, wrapped her arms around her mother’s legs, and skipped off to wash her hands.
Hauwa stood at the stove with the spatula in her hand and found that her eyes had filled with tears. Her daughter had asked for four things and received two. She had been told no twice. And she had walked away perfectly happy, because she had never for one moment doubted that her mother loved her, that her mother would feed her, or that it was safe to ask. “She asked me like a daughter,” Hauwa told me later. “And I had been asking God like a beggar at a gate who was afraid of being chased away.”
Ask, seek, knock
In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus gives His disciples one of the most direct invitations to prayer in the whole Bible:
Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you: For every one that asketh receiveth; and he that seeketh findeth; and to him that knocketh it shall be opened. Or what man is there of you, whom if his son ask bread, will he give him a stone? Or if he ask a fish, will he give him a serpent? If ye then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children, how much more shall your Father which is in heaven give good things to them that ask him?
Look first at the three verbs. Ask. Seek. Knock. In Greek they are present imperatives, which carry a sense of continuing action. We could fairly render them, “Keep on asking. Keep on seeking. Keep on knocking.” Jesus is not describing a single dramatic request. He is describing a way of life, a settled habit of coming to the Father with need.
Then look at the promise attached to each one. “Every one that asketh receiveth; and he that seeketh findeth; and to him that knocketh it shall be opened.” Every one. Jesus does not say every spiritually advanced person, or every person who has fasted for forty days, or every person who has found exactly the right words. He says every one who asks.
Then Jesus gives His reason, and it has nothing to do with technique. It is all about the character of the Father. “Or what man is there of you, whom if his son ask bread, will he give him a stone? Or if he ask a fish, will he give him a serpent?” The Galilean listeners would have caught the picture at once. A small round loaf might look a little like a stone. A fish might look a little like a snake. Jesus asks, what kind of father would play that cruel trick on a hungry child? None of us would.
“If ye then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children, how much more shall your Father which is in heaven give good things to them that ask him?” Jesus calls His listeners “evil,” not to insult them, but to make His point unforgettable. Even flawed, sinful, impatient human parents know how to give good things to their children. Hauwa, standing over her frying pan, would never have given her daughter a stone. If that is true of us, how much more is it true of God?
The phrase how much more is the hinge of the whole passage. Jesus does not ask us to imagine God as a slightly better version of a good parent. He asks us to take the very best of human fatherhood and motherhood and then multiply it beyond measure. Whatever confidence a well-loved child has when she walks into her mother’s kitchen, the child of God has much more reason for confidence in approaching the Father.
Jesus grounds our asking in one thing: the character of the Father. Your confidence does not rest on your technique. It rests on how much more good He is than the best parent you have ever known.
The fear that silences asking
NuggetIf Jesus makes asking so simple, why do so many believers find it hard? Very often, the answer is fear.
Some are afraid that God will be irritated. They imagine Him sighing heavily every time they bring the same need again, the way a tired official sighs at the tenth person in the queue. So they apologise, minimise and eventually stop asking altogether.
Some are afraid of the answer. Like Hauwa, they are not sure they want to hear what God might say, because it might require something difficult. So they pray vaguely, in a way that keeps God at a safe distance from the actual decision.
Some are afraid that they are not good enough to ask. They have failed recently. They feel unworthy. They assume that God listens to the requests of spiritual people and quietly ignores the rest.
And some are afraid of being disappointed. They asked once before, for something they badly wanted, and it did not come. Now they protect themselves by not asking for much at all.
Scripture answers each of these fears. To the person who thinks God is irritated, Jesus says keep on asking. To the person who feels unworthy, Hebrews says, “Let us therefore come boldly unto the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy, and find grace to help in time of need” (Hebrews 4:16). It is a throne of grace, and those who come to it are the very people who need mercy. To the person who doubts God’s generosity, Paul says, “He that spared not his own Son, but delivered him up for us all, how shall he not with him also freely give us all things?” (Romans 8:32). And to everyone, John says, “There is no fear in love; but perfect love casteth out fear” (1 John 4:18).
James puts the cost of fearful silence very bluntly: “ye have not, because ye ask not” (James 4:2). There are good things God is willing to give that some believers never receive, simply because they never ask. Not because God is withholding, but because fear has kept their mouths shut.
Wisdom without a scolding
James wrote his letter to believers who were going through trials. He opens by telling them to count it all joy when they face various testings, because the testing of faith produces patience. Then he turns to one of the most practical needs anyone has in a hard season:
If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not; and it shall be given him. But let him ask in faith, nothing wavering. For he that wavereth is like a wave of the sea driven with the wind and tossed. For let not that man think that he shall receive any thing of the Lord. A double minded man is unstable in all his ways.
“If any of you lack wisdom.” Not if any of you lack faith, or holiness, or spiritual maturity. Simply wisdom: the practical, God-given ability to see what to do. That was exactly Hauwa’s need. She was not asking for a miracle. She needed to know whether to go to Abuja.
Look at how James describes God’s giving. He “giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not.” The word translated liberally is haplos, which means simply, openly, without hidden conditions. It describes a giver who gives with a single heart, not reluctantly or with strings attached. And He upbraideth not. The word means to reproach, to scold, to throw something in someone’s face. God does not respond to your request for wisdom by saying, “Again? Did I not explain this already? Why do you never learn?” He gives without a lecture.
Many believers expect a scolding when they come to God, especially when the need for wisdom arises from their own mistakes. James tells us we will not get one. God gives freely to the one who asks, and He does not shame them for needing to ask.
“And it shall be given him.” The promise is plain. If you ask God for wisdom, He will give it. It may not come as a voice from heaven. More often it comes through Scripture, through the counsel of wise people, through careful thought, through circumstances that clarify, or through a growing inner settledness. But it comes. God has said so.
What wavering really means
Then comes the verse that frightens many sincere believers: “But let him ask in faith, nothing wavering. For he that wavereth is like a wave of the sea driven with the wind and tossed. For let not that man think that he shall receive any thing of the Lord. A double minded man is unstable in all his ways.”
Some people read this and despair. They know that their minds are full of questions. They feel anxious when they pray. Doubts flicker through their thoughts even as they ask. Does that mean they will receive nothing?
We need to look carefully at what James means. The word translated wavering is diakrino. In this setting it describes a person divided against himself, disputing within, pulled in two directions at once. James explains it in the next phrase: such a person is double minded. The Greek word is dipsychos, literally “two-souled.” It describes someone with a divided allegiance, one part of him leaning toward God and another part leaning away.
That is something different from an anxious feeling or a passing doubt. An intrusive thought is not the same as a settled refusal to trust. A person who comes to God frightened and uncertain, but genuinely turning toward Him for help, is not double-minded. They are a person in need, coming to the only One who can help.
The double-minded person is the one who asks God for wisdom while privately reserving the right to ignore whatever He says. He wants the reassurance of having prayed, but he has already decided what he will do. Or he asks God for help while keeping one hand firmly on another source of security that he trusts more. He is like a wave, lifted by the wind toward God one moment and dropped away the next. And James says that kind of divided asking receives nothing, not because God is stingy, but because the person has not really come to receive.
This was part of Hauwa’s struggle. She was asking for wisdom, but part of her was afraid of the answer. She was, in a small way, divided. The remedy was not to manufacture a feeling of certainty. It was to bring the division honestly to God: Father, I am afraid of what You might say. Help me to want Your wisdom more than I want my own way. That prayer is the beginning of a single heart.
Peter once experienced this kind of divided moment on the Sea of Galilee. At Jesus’ word, he stepped out of the boat and walked on the water. “But when he saw the wind boisterous, he was afraid; and beginning to sink, he cried, saying, Lord, save me” (Matthew 14:30). His attention split between Jesus and the waves. Notice what Jesus did: “immediately Jesus stretched forth his hand, and caught him” (Matthew 14:31). Only then did He ask, “wherefore didst thou doubt?” The question came after the rescue. Even Peter’s wavering did not stop Jesus from catching him when he cried out.
Help thou mine unbelief
One of the most comforting stories in the Gospels shows us what Jesus does with weak faith that is honestly brought to Him. A father had brought his son, tormented since childhood by an evil spirit, to the disciples, and they could not help. When Jesus arrived, the father poured out the story:
And he asked his father, How long is it ago since this came unto him? And he said, Of a child. And ofttimes it hath cast him into the fire, and into the waters, to destroy him: but if thou canst do any thing, have compassion on us, and help us. Jesus said unto him, If thou canst believe, all things are possible to him that believeth. And straightway the father of the child cried out, and said with tears, Lord, I believe; help thou mine unbelief.
Punchline“If thou canst do any thing, have compassion on us, and help us.” The father’s faith was shaky. He did not even know whether Jesus could help. Jesus turned his words back on him: “If thou canst believe, all things are possible to him that believeth.”
The father’s reply is one of the most honest prayers ever spoken. “Lord, I believe; help thou mine unbelief.” He was not double-minded. He was not holding back. He was giving Jesus everything he had, including his doubt. He believed as much as he could, and he asked Jesus to help with the rest.
And Jesus healed his son.
That should encourage every believer who feels their faith is too small. You do not have to wait until all your doubts are gone before you ask. You can come as this father came, with tears, with mixed feelings, with honest uncertainty, and say, I believe. Help me where I don’t. That is not wavering. It is a person turning fully toward Jesus with their weakness in their hands.
The story also has a word for those who minister to others. The disciples had failed. When they asked Jesus why, He spoke of prayer (Mark 9:29). Their earlier successes had perhaps made them rely on experience rather than on dependence. We should be very slow to blame a suffering person’s lack of faith when prayer does not seem to work. The father in this story had very little faith, and Jesus helped him anyway. The problem was not in the person who came for help.
He is, and He rewards
The letter to the Hebrews gives us the heart of what faith in asking means: “But without faith it is impossible to please him: for he that cometh to God must believe that he is, and that he is a rewarder of them that diligently seek him” (Hebrews 11:6).
Notice that the faith described here has two parts. First, we believe that he is. God exists. He is really there, really listening. Second, we believe that he is a rewarder of them that diligently seek him. He is the kind of God who responds to those who come to Him. That second part is often where fear creeps in. Many believers have no doubt that God exists. What they doubt is that He is pleased to respond to them.
The faith that pleases God is confidence in His character. It is not the ability to generate a powerful emotion or to banish every question from your mind. It is the settled conviction that God is good and that He welcomes those who seek Him. Your feelings may come and go. That conviction can remain.
The phrase diligently seek translates a word that means to seek out, to search carefully. It echoes Jesus’ instruction to seek and to knock. God rewards those who keep coming. That is not because persistence wears Him down, but because persistence is what trust looks like over time. A child who keeps coming back to her mother is not trying to overcome her mother’s reluctance. She keeps coming because she knows where the food is.
What is the reward? Sometimes it is the very thing we asked for. Sometimes it is something better that we did not know to ask for. Always, it includes God Himself, the deepening of a relationship with the One who has promised never to leave us.
Ask what I shall give thee
There is a remarkable scene at the beginning of Solomon’s reign. The young king had gone to Gibeon to worship, and that night the Lord appeared to him in a dream:
In Gibeon the LORD appeared to Solomon in a dream by night: and God said, Ask what I shall give thee. And Solomon said, Thou hast shewed unto thy servant David my father great mercy, according as he walked before thee in truth, and in righteousness, and in uprightness of heart with thee; and thou hast kept for him this great kindness, that thou hast given him a son to sit on his throne, as it is this day. And now, O LORD my God, thou hast made thy servant king instead of David my father: and I am but a little child: I know not how to go out or come in. And thy servant is in the midst of thy people which thou hast chosen, a great people, that cannot be numbered nor counted for multitude. Give therefore thy servant an understanding heart to judge thy people, that I may discern between good and bad: for who is able to judge this thy so great a people? And the speech pleased the Lord, that Solomon had asked this thing.
“Ask what I shall give thee.” God opened the conversation with an invitation. Notice how Solomon responded. He began by remembering God’s faithfulness to his father David. Then he described his own weakness honestly: “I am but a little child: I know not how to go out or come in.” He was probably a young man in his twenties, newly crowned over a great nation, and he felt completely out of his depth. And then he asked, plainly and specifically, for what he most needed: “an understanding heart to judge thy people, that I may discern between good and bad.”
“And the speech pleased the Lord.” Solomon came as a child, aware of his need, confident enough in God’s goodness to ask directly. And God was delighted. In the verses that follow, God gave him not only the wisdom he asked for but “that which thou hast not asked, both riches, and honour” (1 Kings 3:13).
This is the same God James describes: the God who gives wisdom liberally. Solomon’s prayer is a model for anyone facing a decision too big for them. Remember God’s past faithfulness. Admit your need honestly. Ask plainly for what you need. And trust Him to give more than you know how to ask for. Paul praises God as the One “that is able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think” (Ephesians 3:20).
When your heart condemns you
Sometimes the biggest obstacle to confident asking is not doubt about God but condemnation about ourselves. John speaks to that directly:
And hereby we know that we are of the truth, and shall assure our hearts before him. For if our heart condemn us, God is greater than our heart, and knoweth all things. Beloved, if our heart condemn us not, then have we confidence toward God. And whatsoever we ask, we receive of him, because we keep his commandments, and do those things that are pleasing in his sight.
“For if our heart condemn us, God is greater than our heart, and knoweth all things.” John knows that our hearts sometimes accuse us. We remember our failures. We feel unworthy. We hesitate to ask because we are sure God must be disappointed with us. John’s answer is not to argue with our hearts but to point beyond them. God is greater than our heart. He knows all things, including the fact that we belong to Him, that Christ has died for us, and that we are His children. Our feelings of condemnation are not the final verdict.
“Beloved, if our heart condemn us not, then have we confidence toward God. And whatsoever we ask, we receive of him, because we keep his commandments, and do those things that are pleasing in his sight.” This is not a statement that we earn answers by obedience. John is describing the life of a child walking with the Father. When we are walking in His ways, there is nothing between us, and asking flows naturally. When something is wrong, the answer is not to stop asking, but to bring that thing to Him honestly, receive His forgiveness, and continue.
James adds one caution: “Ye ask, and receive not, because ye ask amiss, that ye may consume it upon your lusts” (James 4:3). Asking without fear does not mean asking without examination. A request that is really about envy, revenge or vanity is not one God has promised to grant. But the remedy for a wrong motive is not to stop asking. It is to let God reshape the request.
So how do we ask without fear or doubt in daily life? Ask plainly. Name the actual need, as Hauwa’s daughter did, without disguising it in vague religious language. Ask honestly. If you are afraid or divided, say so, and ask for help with that too. Ask with thanksgiving, remembering what God has already given. Ask with openness. Be willing to receive a different answer, or a no, from a Father you trust. And keep asking. Jesus said to.
That evening, after the visitors had left and the children were asleep, Hauwa sat on the edge of her bed and prayed again about Abuja. This time she did not apologise. She did not start by explaining how many people had bigger problems than hers. She said, “Father, I need wisdom about Abuja. You said You give it liberally and do not scold. I am a bit afraid of what You will say, so please help me want Your answer more than mine. Show me what to do.”
The answer did not come as a voice. It came over the following week, through a long conversation with her husband, a phone call with a senior colleague who had made the same move, and an unexpected sense of peace when she imagined one option and unease when she imagined the other. In the end she accepted the transfer, but asked to begin after the end of the school year, so that the children could finish their classes and her husband had time to prepare. To her surprise, the ministry agreed.
“I do not know whether I would have made a different decision if I had kept praying the way I was praying before,” she told me. “But I know that I would have made it afraid. Instead I asked like my daughter asked me in the kitchen. And God answered like I answered her. Not everything I wanted, perhaps. But a good answer, with no scolding, from Someone who loves me.”
Your Father is far better than the best parent in any kitchen in Lagos. He will not give you a stone when you ask for bread. He gives wisdom liberally and does not upbraid. He is greater than your heart when it condemns you, and He meets your weak faith with His strong hand. Walk into His presence like a child who knows she is loved. Put your hands on your hips if you like. Ask.
Teaching Companion
For Reflection
- Which of the fears described in this teaching most often keeps you from asking God: fear of irritating Him, fear of the answer, fear of unworthiness, or fear of disappointment?
- How does Jesus’ phrase “how much more” in Matthew 7:11 change the way you picture God’s response to your requests?
- What is the difference between the double-minded person James describes and the father in Mark 9 who said, “Lord, I believe; help thou mine unbelief”?
- What decision are you currently facing in which you need wisdom? Have you asked God for it plainly?
- How does 1 John 3:20, “God is greater than our heart,” speak to the times when you feel too unworthy to ask?
This Week
Choose one specific need you are facing this week, ideally a decision where you need wisdom. Write it down in one plain sentence, the way a child would say it. Then pray James 1:5 over it every morning, using the words “Father, You give liberally and do not scold. I am asking You for wisdom about this.” If you notice fear or divided feelings, add, “Lord, I believe; help Thou mine unbelief.” Pay attention through the week to the ways wisdom comes: Scripture, counsel, circumstances, inner peace. Write down what you receive.
A Prayer
Father, thank You that You are far better than the best earthly parent, and that You will never give me a stone when I ask for bread. Forgive me for the times I have come to You afraid, apologising for my needs, or keeping You at a distance from my decisions. Thank You that You give wisdom liberally and do not scold me for asking. Where my heart is divided, make it whole. Where my faith is weak, help my unbelief. Where my heart condemns me, remind me that You are greater than my heart. I come to You now as Your child, through Jesus Christ, and I ask You plainly for what I need. I trust You with the answer. In Jesus’ name, Amen.
Truth received brings freedom. Truth believed establishes the heart.
Scripture quotations are from the King James Version. · Illustrations using first names only are composites unless stated otherwise.