The hum of the airplane engines was the perfect backdrop for the doubts churning in my mind about prayer. I began questioning my perspective of prayer not long ago while settling into my seat on a long international flight. It all started when a flight attendant approached my row and informed us she would intermittently sit in the little fold-down jump seat during the overnight journey. She would face the three passengers in our row; me, bookended between my husband on the aisle and a quiet man engrossed in his leather-bound foreign language book at the window.

When my husband and I were not sleeping – forever curious about the escapades of frequent travellers – we peppered the attendant with questions. As the flight wore on, the conversation became increasingly intimate. So much so that by the time the plane started its descent, she was sobbing into her hands as she divulged the heart-wrenching details of a desperate situation at home.

Her story could have been any of ours – the details don’t matter. What matters is her description of how she was feeling. How she described it, it sounded like she was teetering on the edge of a cliff with no hope of help.

I felt a knot in my stomach as I thought of all the times I too had felt that way, whether from grief, trauma, the uncertainty of my future, or my own sinful mistakes. I’ve trekked many remote and treacherous trails, but thankfully, I’ve never found myself in a Mission Impossible- esque scenario, clinging to the edge of a sheer drop-off. Yet, there have been moments in my life when I’ve felt proportionately desperate and helpless, as if I’m on the brink of impending doom.

It feels like you’re on a cliff with only your shaky hold on the mountain’s edge separating you from falling. The wind howls, drowning out even the sound of your heart pounding. You don’t dare look down to confirm what you know: the rocks below are waiting to swallow you whole. It’s as if you are stranded, days away from civilization. The haunting realization sets in that no person can hear your desperate calls for help.

This cliff-hanging feeling is universal. At some point in our lives, from various causes, we’ve all felt it or will feel it.

On the plane, I couldn’t help but feel the irony that this flight attendant had top-level training to remain calm in harrowing situations but was now crying buckets in front of the people she was obliged to keep calm. I scoured my brain for advice or solutions to her problem. Coming up empty, I briefly spoke with platitudes of empathy and compassion. My sentiments seemed to soothe her misery momentarily. Still, before she could respond, the man at the window, whom we assumed did not speak English, nor was paying attention to our conversation, looked her in the eyes.

“I know what you need,” he said with a Spanish accent.

I felt dubious. I was embarrassed for him. There was no easy fix to her problem. I could tell she felt the same apprehension but looked at him inquisitively. Curiosity is a welcome distraction.

He pushed the leather book he’d been reading all flight into the dim stream of the overhead light to reveal the title in gold leaf: Santa Biblia. “To help your problem,” he said while tenderly patting his Spanish Bible, “you need to pray. The Almighty Father in Heaven will help you.”

An awkward silence hung as the flight attendant wiped her tears on a cocktail napkin and fixed her make-up. She coldly thanked him for his suggestion while not masking her disappointment. Prayer was clearly not in her tool belt of solutions.

As the flight attendant unbuckled to perform her landing duties behind her practiced smile, I fidgeted with unease. I couldn’t help but wonder about this stranger beside me and his suggestion. While it’s debatable whether the timing of his response to this flight attendant’s sorrows was more appropriate than mine, his message unsettled me. Why didn’t I – someone who identifies as having faith – suggest prayer? Should I believe prayer can help in such a hopeless situation, I wondered. And if so, how does that work?

After that flight, I became aware I had adopted of a common belief about prayer. It may be because I hear it so often. When someone shares bad news, like a scary diagnosis, people respond with “praying for healing!” Or when someone recovers from a severe injury, people say, “thank God, our prayers were answered!” Recently, I was desperately depending on something happening, and when I shared it with a friend she responded, “I’ll pray that it happens for you.” Even in our weekly Sunday gatherings, we offer up our members’ troubles and ask for specific solutions through prayer. While all these messages are kind and comforting and are expressions of faithful devotion to a belief in God’s never-ending loving power in our lives, there is an underlying danger in seeing prayer only as a tool that will facilitate the specific answer we’re looking for; like a rescue helicopter full of skilled paramedics ready to pull us to safety when we’re hanging on that metaphorical cliff.

I will categorize this doubt-ridden perspective on prayer as a transactional perspective of prayer. Here’s a test to see if you too have taken on this common transactional perspective of prayer. Do you pray only when you’re in trouble? Only after you’ve exhausted all of your resources? Do you tend to ask for specific outcomes? Like the sellers to approve your offer on your dream house? Do you focus on your or a loved one’s personal gain in prayer? For instance, praying for a job promotion or for your brother’s illness to heal quickly? Do you sometimes wonder why God answered your sister’s prayer but not yours? Do you often pray for immediate results? And then, when you don’t see them, start to wonder about the power of prayer or if you haven’t prayed fervently enough? Do you sometimes wonder if God is even listening?

We are in good company if we answered yes to any of these questions. This transactional perspective of prayer is ubiquitous. Yet this same transactional perspective – that prayer is a tool to rescue us from suffering situations – is faith-destroying. It’s because this common view sees prayer as a visit to a gas station. As if we pay our fare by telling God what we want, and He fills up our tanks by giving us what we want. And when He does, we smile and wave in thanksgiving as we drive away. But this perspective also causes doubt, because it only works if gas comes from the hose. It doesn’t work when we stand by the car eagerly for the pump to dispense the gas, but all we hear is a sputtering noise. With a sinking feeling, we look down at our feet and see nothing but slimy green muck oozing out of the hose. Doubt creeps in. Was our prayer not enough? Did we not say the words right? We rationalize: We said the prayer. We paid our fare.Why isn’t God answering us?

Where are those paramedics when you need them?

The danger with a transactional prayer is that it leads to uncertainty and anxiety and doubt.

At first sight, this (faith-destroying) transactional perspective of prayer seems to come from Biblical concepts, such as the hundreds of mentions and instructions of prayer and accounts of miracles following prayer. However, a closer look at prayer shows that the transactional perspective twists the purpose of prayer. Contrary to what we may expect, the Bible shows us that prayer is not a transactional exchange to make our life picture-perfect, but rather, it is meant to be a continual conversation with God that transforms us.

While so many people treat prayer to “solve” their problems, the passenger sitting beside me on the plane had a different perspective. Prayer was not just a tool to reverse a troubling circumstance – because the flight attendant's situation was not likely to be changed – but prayer was the fundamental tool he used even when he didn’t expect any answer.

I will categorize this kind of prayer as a transformational perspective of prayer. To understand how prayer can transform us, consider this passage in Philippians,

Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. (Phil 4:5-6)

This passage offers valuable insights into the mechanics of how prayer operates. At first glance, it may seem like it’s supporting a transactional perspective of prayer: Anxious? (1) Pay the fare and pray and petition God. (2) Your anxiety will be swapped out with peace. However, a crucial phrase explains the key to the power of how prayer is not transactional but rather transformational. “The Lord is near.” This phrase is the key to understanding how prayer transforms us. And how the kind of peace it brings could seem totally based on irrationality.

When we feel as if we are desperately hanging from a cliff, searching for a solution, God tells us He has been there the whole time. The Lord is near. He’s waiting for us to call out to Him. And when we acknowledge His presence through prayer – even in the abyss of the remotest mountainside – it changes us.

How? It makes us less anxious because we realize we don’t have to get through this alone. When we pray, we internalize a belief that our future is secure in our hope of God’s will and Kingdom. We become less fearful because, despite all physical, rational appearances, we’re confident we’re not alone.

As we take comfort in His presence, we find the courage to face our troubles. Even if the worst should happen and we slip, we know He is with us, holding us tight. As we fall, we feel Him buckle a parachute securely around our chest, becoming our tandem skydiver instructor. Our anxiety melts because we are not alone. We are in His loving embrace.

The transformational perspective on prayer is faith-building. It cultivates a deep, trusting relationship with God in every situation. In contrast, for those who hold to the transactional perspective of prayer, one of Jesus’s more difficult instructions comes in The Lord’s Prayer when Jesus instructs his disciples to pray, “Thy will be done.”

I’ve often tripped on these words in prayer, not wanting to put them on my tongue for fear of God’s will. It’s stomach-turning to think that if God wants us to fall to our doom from our cliff, we should want that too. That’s why instead of praying an open-ended prayer that God’s will be done, the old transactional mindset leads us to pray for specific tangible things – like a helicopter rescue team – that will get us out of our desperate situation.

However, praying for something specific is dangerous to our faith because it may not be aligned with God’s will. In His almighty power, it may not happen. The only solution to our problems may seem like a rescue helicopter, which we then fixate our prayers on. But giving God a single solution is like giving God an ultimatum. It’s as if we’re saying, “God, only if your will is the same as mine, will I trust in you.” We become tyrannical dictators. If he doesn’t comply with our wishes, we stomp our feet as if He’s the one who let us down. Disappointment leads to anger, anger leads to hopelessness, and hopelessness leads to faithlessness.

God, however, is not a minion at our beck and call, waiting to fulfill our every demand. We must avoid praying for one specific solution to our problems, like a rescue helicopter and rephrase our prayers to only pray for His will and Kingdom.

In his Sermon on the Mount, Jesus’ guidance of “Ask, and it shall be given to you, seek, and you shall find, knock and the door shall be opened to you” might seem as though prayer works like a spiritual vending machine – as if all we have to do is press the “B” and “7” buttons and the chocolate covered peanuts we’re craving will fall into your hands. But does this verse really mean we can ask God for whatever we want, and He’ll give it to us?

No, because this verse is not in a vacuum. Jesus established what to ask for shortly before. “Seek first the Kingdom of God,” he says. Ask for God’s Kingdom. Seek God’s Kingdom. Knock on the door of God’s Kingdom. When you do, you will find God’s Kingdom because you will be transformed.

When we seek God’s Kingdom, the more we want it. The more we ask for God’s Kingdom, the more we want to manifest His Kingdom. Jesus is instructing his disciples to pray for God’s will to be done, not to change God’s will, but rather to change ours. Prayer changes our desires from benefitting our little tyrannical kingdoms, to yearning for God’s Kingdom to reign supreme. Our desire increases for whatever God’s will is, and the desire for a specific outcome decreases.

Jesus tells us to pray for God’s Kingdom so we can start visualizing it. Visualizations are powerful transformers of the mind. It works in the same way I use visualizations to help me reach personal goals, like making healthier habits, training for an athletic competition, or building my business or academic career. When I pray for God’s Kingdom, I paint a clear vision of God’s Kingdom in my mind. And when I look at this painting through a continued prayer life, the visualization incrementally transforms my desires.

Focusing our prayers solely on specific things we want or “need” can be tempting. However, a more effective approach to prayer is to align our prayers with an aspect of God’s Kingdom. This means praying for guidance, for surrender, obedience, and the fruit of the spirit. For example, instead of praying for a new job, we might pray for God’s guidance and wisdom in making decisions that align with His plan. When we’re scared or anxious, we can ask for God’s help surrendering our plans and trusting Him.

Similarly, we can pray for strength to obey God’s will. In challenging situations, we can ask for His blessing of the fruit of the spirit, such as peace, patience, and self-control. By aligning our prayers with God’s Kingdom, we become more flexible in seeing God’s hand in our life, grow closer to Him, and experience His peace and guidance.

During stressful moments, we’re like a person hanging on the edge of a cliff. We have a choice: do we view prayer only as a tool to induce a miracle of a helicopter rescue? Is prayer simply a means to tell God what the cliff-hanging situation we’re in and ask Him to fix it? Or even subversively thinking we can use it to change His will to get what we want? If so, our prayers will lead to disappointment and doubt.

Or do we follow the airplane passenger’s lead? When the flight attendant shared her cliff-hanging situation, I resisted the suggestion of prayer from the man next to me, because I shared a too common viewpoint that prayer is a way for humans to harness God’s power to get us out of sticky situations. Sadly, the way I saw it, there was no getting out of her situation – at least not in the physical, temporal sense of the moment.

But I needed a perspective shift. I needed to see prayer not as a solution-maker but as a disciple-maker. I needed to remember that prayer is a way to invite God into my darkest fears and desires – my innermost parts.

If we view prayer as building a relationship with our Heavenly Father, then when we find ourselves hanging on for dear life, the question on our lips should be, “where is God right now?”

Our faith tells us the answer: He’s right here, next to us. He’s been there the whole time. Desiring us to depend on Him.

This is how prayer helps us in (what feels like) hopeless situations. When we look for God, His presence becomes palpable, and we feel His love envelop us like a tandem sky-diving instructor.

We may not receive the precise results we hoped for. We may not get rescued at all – at least not in the way we expect. But we get rescued in a divine way: the comfort of knowing that no matter what happens next, God is building His Kingdom through us. All we must do is reach out, take hold and strap in tight.