Power of Prayer in Public

I've always felt kind of strange praying in front of other people. There's a performative aspect to it where I feel pressure to say the right words and pray for the right things. I feel pressure to look a certain way: head down, eyes closed, hands folded, and in the quiet. Matthew 6:5 says to not pray in public for the sole purpose of being seen as righteous and religious. The strangeness only increases with public worship, as I wonder if my lack of singing ability distracts other people during worship. Long story short, I'm not much of a public Christian, whether that be for better or worse.

On Saturday, I attended the No Kings rally in Minneapolis. Things didn't start out great for me. The breakfast I had right before made me nauseous and upset my stomach. The 40-minute train ride to the state capital only made the nausea worse. The fresh outdoor air by the time we arrived at the capital helped, but only minimally. I was sick and exhausted, so I did what any sick rally attendee would: I found an empty spot on a curb and sat, listening to speakers like Bernie Sanders and music by Bruce Springsteen.

the view from a curb at the Minnesota capital during No Kings Rally (March 2026)

While I sat, my partner walked around to see the signs others had made for the rally and march. At some point during our separation, the sound from the microphone became too hard to distinguish. I could not hear the speaker anymore. I felt like there wasn't much I could do, as my nausea was still overpowering me. So I did something else: I prayed.

I folded my hands and bowed my head between my knees. And amongst the noise and presence of the large crowd, I silently prayed. I prayed for justice for those hurt or murdered by ICE. I prayed for safety of those in the Middle East and an immediate stop to this illegal war Trump started with Iran. I prayed for safety and freedom of speech and press for those of us rallying and marching against American tyranny. I prayed for the innocent. I prayed for the immigrants. I prayed for the people of color. I prayed for my communities. I prayed for America. I prayed for our government. I prayed for our schools. I prayed for peace. I prayed for love. I prayed for better faith, more love, and policies that gave people human dignity. I prayed for my nausea. I prayed for my home. I prayed for my work. I prayed for a future that is good.

And while I silently prayed, I felt a sort of grace wash over me. Here I was, praying in public, but the attention was not solely on me to perform and do things right. I was part of a giant crowd, a drop of water in the ocean. I was there, but there was more than just me. Me being there wasn't a statement of my faith or righteousness. My being there told those around me that they were not alone in their sadness, scaredness, and fear. My presence said I was one of many hoping for better things. It wasn't about me, the drop. It was the ocean, with one more drop in it. It was community. It was camaraderie. It was togetherness.

I feel like I understand a new side to prayer in public that I hadn't quite experienced before. Even if nobody knew I was praying, I still was. Even if I messed up the words or the feelings in my heart, nobody had to know or judge me for what they did know. Nobody but God could hear, and that was okay. All they needed to know is that I, another drop of water, communed with them, another drop of water, in the ocean. Sometimes presence is more powerful than anything one can say or pray. Existing together is a reason to pray.

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