Pray Your Way · Sunday Sermon

What is Sunday Sermon? · All sermons

She Would Not Stop Coming

Sunday, October 18, 2026 — Proper 24, Year C

By Shawn P. Cosner, J.D.

Listen to this sermon
0:00—:—
"...men ought always to pray, and not to faint" — Luke 18:1 (KJV)

For once, Luke tells you the point of the parable before Jesus tells it. Pray always, and do not faint. That word faint means to go slack, to lose heart, to quit. So this is a story about the thing most of us actually do with prayer. We do not renounce it. We just slowly stop, because it seemed like nothing was happening.

The story is about a widow and a judge. The judge is openly corrupt. Luke says he "feared not God, neither regarded man" (Luke 18:2). He has no conscience above him and no shame beside him, which in that world made him untouchable. The widow is the opposite. In the ancient world a widow had no standing, no money, no leverage, no husband to argue for her. She is the least powerful person who could walk into that courtroom, and she has exactly one thing going for her.

She will not stop coming.

She has no bribe and no connections, so she brings the only thing she has, which is her refusal to go away. And it works. Not because the judge develops a heart. He tells us himself why he finally acts: "because this widow troubleth me, I will avenge her, lest by her continual coming she weary me" (Luke 18:5). He gives her justice to be rid of her. Even a man who fears nothing will eventually move for someone who simply will not quit.

And right there is where people misread this parable. They hear it and picture God as the judge, reluctant and annoyed, and prayer as the nagging that finally wears Him down. That is exactly backwards. Jesus is not comparing God to the judge. He is contrasting them.

"And shall not God avenge his own elect, which cry day and night unto him, though he bear long with them? I tell you that he will avenge them speedily." — Luke 18:7-8 (KJV)

Hear the argument. If even a crook with no conscience will finally do right for a stranger he cares nothing about, just to stop the knocking, then how much more will a Father who loves you answer the children who cry to Him day and night. The widow's hope rested on a judge who did not care. Yours rests on a God who gave His Son for you. If she had reason not to faint, how much more do you.

So why does it still feel like the courtroom is empty? Jesus says God will avenge speedily, yet He also "bear[s] long" with us. Both are true, and holding them together is the whole discipline of prayer. God is never slow the way the judge was slow, grudging and indifferent. When He waits, He is not ignoring you. But from inside the waiting it can feel identical to being ignored, and that feeling is precisely where we go slack and quit.

Then Jesus ends not with a promise but with a question, and it is the real test of the parable: "when the Son of man cometh, shall he find faith on the earth?" (Luke 18:8). He is not asking whether He will find believers. He is asking whether He will find anyone still praying. Still coming. Still refusing to faint after the long silence. The danger was never that God would stop answering. It was that we would stop asking.

So do not quit the thing you have been praying for the hard, unanswered thing, the one you have almost talked yourself out of bringing up again because surely by now the answer is no. You are not wearing down a reluctant judge. You are a loved child coming to a Father who is not slow and is not deaf, who told you to keep coming precisely because He knew the silence would tempt you to stop. Be the widow. Keep coming.

Amen.

Keep coming.

— Luke 18:1 (KJV)

A prayer for the week

Father, I have been fainting. There is a prayer I have almost given up on, because it has been so long and so quiet that I decided the answer must be no. Forgive me for reading your patience as indifference, for treating you like the judge who does not care when you are the Father who gave your Son. You are not slow. You are not deaf. You told me to keep coming because you knew the silence would tempt me to quit. So here I am again, with the same request I am tired of carrying. I will not stop coming. And when you come, let you find me still praying, still trusting, still at your door. Amen.

To sit with this week

What have you stopped praying for because the silence went on too long — and what would it look like to bring it to God again this week, as a loved child and not a nagging stranger?

The Charge™

The charge committed to you for the week ahead. Carry it through. Return Sunday.

This Week's Charge

This week the charge is to keep coming. Name the prayer you have quietly let go of, the one you have almost talked yourself out of because it has gone unanswered so long that bringing it up again feels pointless. That is the faint Jesus warned about. This week, pick it back up. Bring that exact request to God every day for seven days, out loud, by name, the way the widow kept walking back into that courtroom. You are not nagging a reluctant judge into caring. You are a loved child returning to a Father who told you to keep coming because He knew the long silence would tempt you to stop. The question at the end of the parable is not whether God will answer. It is whether He will find you still asking. Be found still asking.

The Nightly Watch (Mon-Fri)

Each night this week, before you fall asleep, with your evening prayer or as you lay in bed, take five quiet minutes. Focus only on THAT day. Not yesterday. Not tomorrow. Bring the charge into your prayer. Ask: where did I keep it? Where did I miss it? Confess what is honest. Receive what is mercy. Then rest.

The Saturday Reckoning

On Saturday night, before sleep, judge yourself as you would be judged. Look back across the seven nights. Did you pass the test? Or did the same failing return, day after day, with no change? This is not a place to feel horrible. This is a place to recognize what is real. The Lord knows already. The work is not perfection. The work is RECOGNITION. See where you stand. See where mercy was given. Then bring it all into Sunday. Not as shame, but as the thing that was committed unto thee. Kept, or to be kept again.

Free · Every Sunday morning

Get the Sunday Sermon

Anchored to the same scripture the global church reads that week. Written in my own voice. Free, forever. One email Sunday morning. Unsubscribe in one tap.

No tracking pixels. No sharing your email. One-tap unsubscribe.

If this spoke to you
Share a reflection

Reflections are reviewed before posting. Be kind. Be honest.

Forward this to someone who needs it. The Word travels best in love.

~Shawn