Relating to God in dependent prayer
George Müller is remembered not merely as a man who prayed, but as a man who built his entire life on prayer. In the 1800s, Müller oversaw large orphanages in Bristol, England feeding, clothing, educating, and sheltering thousands of children. Yet he famously refused to ask anyone for financial support. Instead, he resolved that God alone would be his provider, and prayer would be his daily means of dependence.
One morning, Müller was told the children were ready for breakfast, but the pantry was empty, no food, no money, no visible solution. Without hesitation, he gathered the children around the table, thanked God for the meal He would provide, and waited. Moments later, a baker knocked, explaining he had felt compelled the night before to bake bread specifically for the orphanage. Immediately after, a milk cart broke down in front of the building, and the milkman offered his entire supply before it spoiled. Breakfast arrived, not because Müller strategized a plan, but because Müller trusted the God who hears.
Müller’s life illustrates what Jesus taught in Matthew 6:11: “Give us this day our daily bread.” Not metaphorically but literally. And yet his bold dependence was never reckless or presumptuous. It was grounded in Scripture’s assurance that “those who seek the Lord lack no good thing” (Ps. 34:10) and that God invites His children to “cast all [their] anxieties on Him, because He cares for [them]” (1 Pet. 5:7).
Most of us will never run an orphanage or face such dramatic moments of provision. But Müller’s story confronts us with a deeper question: Do we truly depend on God in prayer, or do we simply treat prayer as an accessory to our self-sufficiency, just another item to check off our piety checklist? His life compels us to examine our own habits, our pace, our reflexes, and the sources of our confidence.
If discipleship is the way God shapes us into the image of His Son, then prayer is the oxygen of that formation, the continual, life-sustaining act of surrendering our will, strength, desires, and outcomes into the hands of a faithful Father. Nowhere is this more clearly displayed than in the life of Jesus Himself. The Gospels record Him praying at least thirty-eight times. Alone in desolate places, in the early morning hours, before choosing the disciples, before miracles, in moments of joy, in moments of anguish, in the Garden of Gethsemane, on the cross, and even after His resurrection.
Jesus, God himself in the flesh, did not treat prayer as a spiritual discipline to be performed but as a lifeline to the Father. He sought the Father’s will before acting, the Father’s strength before teaching, and the Father’s presence before enduring suffering. In Jesus, we see the pattern for our own life with God, true discipleship grows only where there is true dependence, and true dependence is cultivated through surrendered prayer.
And if this is the example our Lord sets before us, then prayer cannot remain a vague desire or a vague spiritual habit. It must become a practiced rhythm, an intentional posture we adopt each day. This invites us into the practical question: How, then, do we cultivate a life of dependent prayer in the ordinary rhythm of our days?
Practical Applications
We must learn to bring our actual selves, body, mind, and emotions into the presence of God. Far too often we think of prayer as a purely mental exercise, detached from the lived realities of our days. But Scripture presents prayer as something we enter into with our whole being: lifting our voices, bowing our knees, pouring out our hearts, remembering God’s works, and aligning our desires with His. To cultivate surrendered prayer, we need rhythms that help us slow down, pay attention to God’s nearness, and respond with honesty and faith. The practices of embodied prayer, prayer journaling, and praying through the Psalms offer tangible ways to root our dependence on God in the fabric of ordinary life. Each invites us not only to speak to God but to be shaped by Him as we pray.
Embodied Prayer:
Embodied prayer recognizes that we are not disembodied minds offering silent requests to God, we are whole persons, created with bodies that were meant to participate in worship, dependence, and surrender. Scripture often portrays prayer as a physical act: kneeling (Ps. 95:6), lifting hands (Ps. 63:4), bowing low (Ps. 5:7), or even lying prostrate before the Lord (Josh. 7:6). These postures don’t make our prayers more “spiritual,” but they shape our hearts toward humility. Kneeling expresses surrender. Open hands symbolize dependence. Bowed heads acknowledge God’s holiness. Embodied prayer trains the soul through the body, reminding us that discipleship is not merely what we think but how we yield our whole selves before God.
Prayer Journaling:
Prayer journaling is a practice that slows us down long enough to notice what is actually happening inside of us. When we write our prayers, we create space for honesty, we move beyond vague feelings and name our fears, desires, and sins before the Lord. Journaling also allows us to trace the faithfulness of God over time. The entries that begin in confusion or grief often end in gratitude months later. This practice cultivates remembrance, something Scripture repeatedly calls us to (Ps. 103:1–5; Deut. 8). Through journaling, our prayers become more intentional, our hearts more aware, and our dependence on God more grounded in His proven character.
Praying through the psalms:
The Psalms give us Spirit-inspired words for every human emotion, joy, fear, anger, sorrow, repentance, longing, and praise. To pray through the Psalms is to let God teach us how to speak to Him. When we feel spiritually dry, the Psalms give us words we cannot find. When we are overwhelmed, they anchor us in the eternal character of God. When we rejoice, they train our praise. Jesus Himself prayed the Psalms (Luke 23:46; Matt. 27:46), and the early church followed His example. This practice reshapes our emotional life through Scripture, forming our hearts to respond to God with honesty and faith rather than instinct or impulse. Praying the Psalms trains us to bring everything, every mood, every burden, every joy, into God’s presence.
George Müller’s life reminds us that prayer is not a spiritual accessory but a lifeline, a posture of surrender through which we entrust every need, fear, and desire to a faithful Father. His unwavering dependence on God was not the result of extraordinary gifting but of ordinary, daily choices to seek God in prayer, to believe His promises, and to place his life where only God could sustain it.
As we consider what embodied prayer looks like, or how journaling trains our hearts, or how praying the Psalms reshapes our desires, we begin to see that the power of prayer does not come from our eloquence but from our yieldedness. Like Müller, we are invited into a life where dependence becomes joy, surrender becomes strength, and prayer becomes the means by which God forms Christ within us. His story is not meant to intimidate us but to illuminate the path, showing what God can do with a heart that has learned to rely on Him in every season.
Discussion Questions
Where in your life do you most struggle to depend on God in prayer?
How would you describe your current prayer habits?
Of the three practices: embodied prayer, prayer journaling, or praying the Psalms
which resonates most with your season of life right now, and why?How does George Müller’s example challenge or inspire you?
What might change in your walk with Jesus if you began each day with surrendered prayer?
George Müller, A Narrative of Some of the Lord’s Dealings with George Müller, vol. 1 (London: J. Nisbet & Co., 1885), 256–259.
