Is Prayer Something We Do Alone? Rediscovering the Gift of Praying Together

I was helping a friend set up the VBS display in the church foyer on a busy Sunday morning. She had a clipboard for registration, a stack of pamphlets, and needed a small table for her display. I quickly offered to bring one over. With the kids off in Sunday school and parents mingling over coffee, it seemed simple enough.

I found a rectangular table, picked it up—awkwardly—and started navigating the hallway. That’s when someone asked, “Hey, do you need help with that?”

I didn’t know him very well, so the question caught me off guard. I smiled and said, “Thanks, I’m not going too far,” and continued around the corner to set the table beside the camp chair.

Later, I found myself wondering—Why was I so surprised someone offered to help? The truth? My surprise came from a quiet assumption: I don’t really expect help. I’m used to managing on my own. I don’t always realize it, but practically speaking, I often default to self-reliance. And in doing so, I miss out on the blessing—and the necessity—of doing life together.

It wasn’t always this way. When we were church planting, we needed others desperately. We leaned on their prayers and financial support to keep going. When our daughter became gravely ill, we felt the power of intercession lifting our arms when we couldn’t lift them ourselves. 

And now, in this season—whatever it may be—we still need each other. 

Maybe you’re pouring yourself out in motherhood, faithfully showing up at work, or serving quietly in your church. 

Maybe you’re walking through grief, feeling overlooked in your singleness, or longing for deeper friendship. 

Maybe you're holding steady in a hard marriage, juggling too much, or just tired in ways you can’t explain.

But many of us are quietly carrying spiritual and emotional burdens alone—not because we don’t believe in prayer, but because we’ve grown used to private perseverance rather than shared intercession. In the name of strength or self-reliance, we often isolate our struggles, believing it's more spiritual to “just take it to Jesus.” But in doing so, we miss the God-given gift of partnership in prayer—the encouragement, support, and spiritual formation that comes through being prayed for and praying with others.

Back to Gethsemane

When we revisit Jesus’ walk down the Mount of Olives in Matthew 26, we picture Him traveling with His disciples, clustered together on the uneven path leading to the grove below—the place where He would soon pour out His heart in prayer. And we notice: Jesus didn’t walk alone.

Yes, He often withdrew to pray in solitude, slipping away into stillness, into the desolate places far from the crowds. He valued silence and communion with His Father. But solitude was not His only pattern. Even as He pursued quiet, He also pursued fellowship.

From the beginning, Jesus gathered disciples around Him—to teach them about the Father, to model holiness, to embody love. And on this night—just like many nights before—they went with Him to the garden. But this night was different.

The weight of what was coming pressed in. Grief and anguish were already taking hold. And in His humanity, Jesus turned to His closest friends—Peter, James, and John—and invited them to come a little further.

He didn’t invite them to fix anything. He invited them to be with Him, to bear the burden for just a moment, to share in His sorrow and stay awake in prayer.

In the Garden of Gethsemane, Jesus invited His friends into His sorrow—not because He needed their solutions, but because He desired their presence. In that moment, He showed us something profound: prayer is not only about our personal communion with God, but also about the fellowship we share with one another in His presence. As we consider what it means to partner in prayer, here are a few truths that remind us we’re not meant to walk—or pray—alone.

Prayer Is Personal, But Not Meant to Be Only Private

“You also must help us by prayer, so that many will give thanks on our behalf for the blessing granted us through the prayers of many” (2 Cor.1:11).

There’s a deep connection that grows when we pray together. Whether it’s a husband and wife sitting before the Lord, a family gathered around the dinner table, or two friends sharing a burden, praying together knits hearts in a way few other things can.

Still, I wonder if we hesitate to do this more often because we're afraid.

I mentioned my own tendency toward self-reliance. Maybe, like me, you worry that sharing your burdens will make you look weak—or reveal the truth that you don’t always have it all together. Sometimes the thing stirring anxiety in your heart feels small compared to someone else’s grief, and the fear of judgment or dismissal keeps you quiet.

I once spoke with a church member who had a medical appointment coming up. She was anxious and wanted prayer—but in light of a recent tragedy in our community, she hesitated. Her request felt insignificant by comparison. So, she kept it to herself.

When we lay our prayer needs before others, we enter a vulnerable space. But this is exactly why fellowship in prayer is so important. Because in that space, we experience the grace of being known, loved, and lifted up.

We’re Created to Share Each Others’ Burdens

“Bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ” (Gal. 6:2).

In the late 18th century, William Carey felt deeply burdened for the unreached people of India. At a pivotal gathering of ministers in 1792, he passionately advocated for foreign missions. Using the image of a deep mine, he implored his fellow believers:

“I will go down, if you will hold the ropes.”

Not all of us are called to go, but each of us is called to participate in God’s kingdom work—to glorify Him in all we do and to do good to others. That may sound simple, but the reality is often anything but.

Sometimes our callings feel like deep, dark descents—into hard relationships, exhausting seasons of ministry or caregiving, spiritual dryness, or quiet grief. Like Carey’s imagery, we may find ourselves in the depths, unless someone is holding the rope for us—praying, supporting, standing beside us.

Paul echoed this need when he wrote to the church in Rome: “I appeal to you, brothers, by our Lord Jesus Christ and by the love of the Spirit, to strive together with me in your prayers to God on my behalf” (Rom. 15:30).  There’s both urgency and expectation in his voice—a belief that prayer isn’t passive, but active striving together.

And yet, how often do we respond with less urgency? We say, “I’ll pray for you,”—and we might mean it—but how often do we say instead, “Can I pray with you right now?”

We carry burdens alone when God has invited us to carry them together. So let’s be the ones who ask. The ones who pause. The ones who hold the ropes.

Because prayer isn’t just something we offer—it’s a way we abide in Christ together.

The Church Was Born in a Prayer Meeting 

“All these with one accord were devoting themselves to prayer” (Acts 1:14)

 One morning, our director from the South Korea office led our prayer time in the style he had grown up with: each person shared a request, someone else prayed for them, and we ended with several minutes of everyone praying aloud—together.

Tears came to my eyes as voices lifted to the Lord in Portuguese, English, Taiwanese, and Mandarin. It rose like a fragrant offering—an aroma of unity, need, and worship.

We don’t just need each other in our local churches—we need each other across cultures, languages, and continents.

The early church understood this. Acts 1:14 tells us, “All these with one accord were devoting themselves to prayer.”

They weren’t strategizing first or rushing ahead. They didn’t have all the answers. They simply gathered—in uncertainty, in weakness, in hope—and they prayed. They devoted themselves not to doing, but to depending.

Isn’t that where many of us find ourselves, too? Unsure of what’s next. Longing for God to move. Wanting to be faithful. What if our first response wasn’t to press on alone, but to gather—even just with one other sister in Christ—and pray?

As Oswald Chambers wrote, “Prayer is not preparation for the work; prayer is the work.” And it’s a work we were never meant to do alone.

From the garden to the upper room, Scripture shows us a God who invites us into relationship—not just with Himself, but with one another. Prayer is personal, yes—but it’s also profoundly communal. It’s where we come alongside, lift each other up, and are shaped together into Christ’s likeness.

So, here’s your invitation: don’t wait for the perfect moment or the right words. Ask someone how you can pray for them—and then pray right there. Share your own need and let someone hold the rope for you. Find partners to pray together with regularly. Let’s be women who don’t just whisper “I’ll pray for you,” but who actually do—together, in the moment, and in faith.

Because prayer draws us deeper into Christ—and closer to one another.