Ex. 17:8-13; 2 Tim. 3:14-4:2; Lk. 18:1-8
This incident from ancient Athens mirrors the story that Jesus tells in today’s Gospel. “In a certain city,” he says, “there was a judge who neither feared God nor respected people. In that city there was a widow who kept coming to him and saying, ‘Grant me justice against my opponent.’” The judge did not care. He had no reverence for God, no regard for people, and no sense of moral obligation. But the widow, like that Athenian woman centuries earlier, refused to give up. And in the end, the unjust judge said to himself, “Though I have no fear of God and no respect for anyone, yet because this widow keeps bothering me, I will grant her justice, so that she may not wear me out by continually coming.”
Jesus, having told this parable, draws a powerful conclusion: “Listen to what the unjust judge says. Will not God grant justice to his chosen ones who cry to him day and night?” If even a corrupt and indifferent judge can be moved by persistence, how much more will a loving and just God hear the cries of those who call out to him in faith! But Jesus adds a question that pierces the heart: “And yet, when the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?” It is not only about God’s faithfulness but also about our perseverance in faith.
Throughout the Gospels, we find that persistence is a golden thread in the fabric of divine encounter. One of the clearest examples is the story of the Canaanite woman in Gospel of Matthew 15:21–28. A Gentile woman comes to Jesus crying out, “Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of David; my daughter is tormented by a demon.” Jesus appears to ignore her. The disciples urge him to send her away. He even replies, “I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.” But the woman does not retreat. She kneels and says, “Lord, help me.” Jesus responds, “It is not fair to take the children’s bread and throw it to the dogs.” And she answers with brilliant humility and persistence, “Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters’ table.” Her faith pierces the heavens. Jesus marvels and says, “Woman, great is your faith! Let it be done for you as you wish.” Her persistence broke through barriers of ethnicity, culture, and perceived distance from God.
Another example lies in the story of the friend at midnight in Gospel of Luke 11:5–8. Jesus tells of a man who goes to his friend at midnight, asking for bread to feed an unexpected guest. The friend, already in bed with his children, refuses at first. But Jesus says, “Even though he will not get up and give him anything because he is his friend, at least because of his persistence, he will get up and give him whatever he needs.” Jesus immediately connects this with prayer: “Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and the door will be opened for you.” Here again, persistence moves hearts, opens doors, and brings response.
Consider also the healing of the blind beggar Bartimaeus in Gospel of Mark 10:46–52. As Jesus passes by, Bartimaeus cries out, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” The crowd tells him to be silent. But the more they tried to silence him, the louder he cried out. Jesus stops, calls him forward, and restores his sight. Had Bartimaeus listened to the crowd, he would have remained blind. But persistence brought healing.
And in Gospel of Luke 8:43–48, a woman who had suffered hemorrhage for twelve years pushed through the crowd to touch the hem of Jesus’ garment. She had spent all her money on physicians and found no relief. Yet she believed. She refused to be defined by her illness or by social stigma. Her persistence was quiet but determined. One touch, born of unwavering faith, brought immediate healing, and Jesus turned to affirm her, “Daughter, your faith has made you well.”
Persistence in prayer echoes through the Old Testament as well. One of the most vivid examples is the intercession of Abraham for Sodom in Book of Genesis 18:16–33. God reveals to Abraham His intention to destroy Sodom. Abraham steps forward with boldness: “Will you indeed sweep away the righteous with the wicked?” He pleads: if there are fifty righteous, will God spare the city? Then forty-five, forty, thirty, twenty, ten. Each time, God listens. Abraham’s persistent pleading shows a heart that trusts in divine mercy.
Likewise, Moses interceded persistently for Israel after their grave sin of worshipping the golden calf in Book of Exodus 32–34. When God said He would destroy the people, Moses fell on his face and begged for mercy. He fasted, prayed, and pleaded, not once but repeatedly. And God, moved by this persistent intercession, relented and renewed the covenant with Israel. Moses did not give up on a people who had gone astray, and God did not give up on Moses’ prayer.
Hannah, too, embodies persistence in prayer in First Book of Samuel 1. Year after year, she came to the temple weeping, praying for a child. She poured out her soul before the Lord so fervently that the priest thought she was drunk. But she kept praying. In God’s time, her womb was opened, and Samuel was born, who became a great prophet of Israel. Her persistence was not in vain.
We see also Elijah on Mount Carmel in First Book of Kings 18, after defeating the prophets of Baal. He prayed for rain after three years of drought. He sent his servant seven times to look toward the sea, and only on the seventh time did a small cloud appear. Elijah did not stop praying after the first or second attempt; he persisted, and God answered.
Persistence is also woven deeply into the lives of saints throughout Christian history. Monica of Hippo, the mother of Augustine of Hippo, prayed for her son’s conversion for over seventeen years. Augustine lived a life far from God, immersed in philosophy and pleasures. But Monica wept, fasted, and begged God every single day. Her persistence bore fruit when Augustine’s heart was finally conquered by grace. His conversion became one of the most influential in Christian history.
Consider also Teresa of Ávila, who faced resistance in reforming her order, illness, misunderstandings, and spiritual dryness. She often spent long nights in prayer, not because she always felt God near, but because she believed. She persisted even when nothing seemed to happen. And God rewarded her perseverance with deep union and lasting reform.
John Vianney, the Curé of Ars, ministered in a small, obscure French village with few conversions at first. He spent hours daily in prayer and in the confessional, often without seeing immediate fruits. Yet he persisted. In time, his parish became a beacon of revival, and thousands flocked to him for confession and guidance.
Beyond saints and biblical heroes, the power of persistence is found in the lives of ordinary people. Think of a mother who prays for years for her wayward child to return home. She kneels night after night, even when the phone does not ring, even when hope seems dim. One day, the door opens, and the child returns. Or the poor farmer who toils in barren soil, watering and weeding despite repeated failures. One season, the rains come, and the earth responds with abundant harvest. Or the woman who fights for justice in a corrupt system, writing letters, attending hearings, gathering support, until the truth is finally acknowledged. They are modern-day widows before unjust judges, persisting not because they have power, but because they have hope.
In our own time, stories of persistent prayer abound. After the fall of the Iron Curtain, it was revealed that many Christians in Eastern Europe had spent decades gathering secretly, praying for freedom while the world thought nothing would change. Their prayers did not bring immediate results, but eventually, history shifted. Similarly, during the Civil Rights Movement in the United States, countless men and women marched, prayed, and sang for justice, year after year, despite being ignored, mocked, or attacked. Persistence changed the tide of history.
What, then, does Jesus teach us in this parable? At its heart, it is not simply about wearing down a reluctant God. It is about trusting in a loving God who hears, even when the answer does not come immediately. Jesus uses the image of an unjust judge precisely to draw a contrast. If even such a judge can be moved by persistence, how much more will a Father who loves his children respond to their cries? Prayer, then, is not about changing God’s heart; it is about remaining faithful, staying connected, and allowing God to shape us in the waiting.
Persistent prayer forms the soul. It teaches us patience, humility, and trust. It purifies our desires, helping us to seek not merely what is convenient but what is truly good. It keeps our hearts aligned with God even when everything around us seems dark. Jesus Christ himself prayed persistently. In Gospel of Luke 6:12, he spent the whole night in prayer before choosing his disciples. In Gospel of Matthew 26:36–46, he prayed in the Garden of Gethsemane, not once but three times, sweating blood, as he prepared to embrace the cross. Even on the cross, he cried out to the Father. Persistence in prayer is not beneath the Son of God; it is central to his mission.
But Jesus ends the parable with a searching question: “When the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?” This question reveals a danger. When answers do not come quickly, when justice is delayed, when pain lingers, faith can weaken. We may stop praying. We may stop hoping. Jesus does not promise instant answers, but he promises God’s attentiveness and justice. The question is not about whether God will be faithful; the question is whether we will remain faithful.
Our modern world is not well suited to persistence. We live in a culture of immediacy—instant messages, quick deliveries, rapid answers. We grow impatient when our prayers are not answered in the same way. But God’s timeline is not our timeline. Like the widow, like Abraham, like Hannah, we must keep coming, day after day, night after night. Persistent prayer is not wasted breath; it is the steady heartbeat of faith.
Sometimes, God delays not because he ignores us but because he is forming us. He deepens our longing, purifies our motives, and aligns our hearts with his will. Ignatius of Loyola once said that prayer does not so much change God as it changes the one who prays. Persistence is the forge in which trust is tempered. And when the answer comes—whether in this life or the next—it often surpasses what we imagined.
There is also another layer to this parable: justice. The widow cries out not for comfort but for justice. Jesus speaks of God granting justice to his chosen ones who cry out day and night. Many in our world today cry out for justice: refugees fleeing war, the poor oppressed by systems of greed, victims of violence, people marginalized for their identity or beliefs. Sometimes it seems as though the unjust judges of the world are deaf. But Jesus assures us: God hears. God will act. He may seem silent for a time, but his justice is not absent. And in the meantime, the faith of the persistent becomes a sign of God’s presence in the world.
How, then, shall we live this teaching today? First, by not losing heart in prayer. Whether you pray for a personal intention—a loved one’s conversion, healing, a job, reconciliation—or for a global intention—peace, justice, the end of suffering—do not give up. Keep praying. The widow did not stop after one refusal. She kept coming. So should we. Our prayers are stored in the heart of God, and none of them are lost.
Second, by allowing persistence to shape us into people of hope. Hope is not naive optimism; it is the unshakeable trust that God is faithful. It is what sustained Monica, what strengthened Moses, what emboldened the Canaanite woman, what carried Elijah through drought. In a cynical age, persistent prayer is an act of rebellion against despair.
Third, by becoming instruments of the very justice we seek in prayer. The widow sought justice. So too must we not only pray for justice but work for it. Persistent prayer without persistent action becomes hollow. Jesus calls us to embody the kingdom we pray for—to defend the weak, to stand for truth, to be voices for the voiceless. God’s justice often flows through those who persist in both prayer and action.
There are many true stories of persistent prayer bringing astonishing results. A missionary in a remote part of the world prayed for thirty-five years for a single conversion. He saw nothing happen during his lifetime. Yet, after his death, one of his writings fell into the hands of a local leader who became the first convert in the region. The work exploded afterward. The missionary did not live to see the answer, but his persistence watered the seed that God eventually made bloom.
So today, the Gospel invites us to be like that widow—stubborn in faith, relentless in hope, unyielding in trust. She had no earthly power, but her persistence moved the heart of an unjust judge. How much more will the heart of our loving Father be moved when we cry out to him?
Prayer is not magic. It is relationship. It is returning again and again to the One who loves us, even when we do not see the answer. It is standing at the judge’s door, not because we doubt, but because we trust. And in that persistent standing, our faith grows.
May we learn from Abraham’s boldness, from Hannah’s tears, from Monica’s faithfulness, from Bartimaeus’s cry, from the Canaanite woman’s unshakable trust. May our own prayers, whispered in the night and shouted in the day, rise like incense before the throne of God. And may we never lose heart, for the Lord is near to those who call upon him.
Satish