A woman in her thirties had been praying the same prayer for most of a season. Use me. She meant every word of it. She also, if she is honest about it, expected the answer to be something manageable. A volunteer slot. A neighbor. Something with a start time and an end time.

What surfaced instead was her brother’s name. Four years of not speaking. A holiday that went badly and a set of things said on both sides that neither of them had ever taken back.

It was not thunder. It was a name that would not go away, showing up in the quiet at the end of prayers she was trying to pray about other things entirely.

She called on a Friday. He did not pick up. She called again the next week and that one lasted two hours. Reconciliation is never one phone call. It is also never zero phone calls.

Isaiah heard the Lord ask a question out loud. Whom shall I send, and who will go for us? And Isaiah answered before he knew the assignment. Here am I, send me. We quote that verse on missions Sunday and we forget what it cost him. God sent him to a people who were not going to listen to a word he said.

Prayer is not a monologue where we file requests and wait on delivery. Prayer is where we get quiet enough that God can ask us for something. And when He speaks, all of it comes at once. Faith comes alive. We become focused. There is provision. We are on a mission. Doors open. And there is a price to pay.

Love is sacrificial. It is how we give of ourselves and our possessions so others grow. Here am I, send me is that definition in its purest form. It is a yes handed over before the assignment has been read.