Walking into the old building was refreshing despite it being an old farmhouse converted into a church, which could use a serious facelift. The space was small and humble but held something of great importance. The saints gathered here, and most importantly, the presence of God resided here.

On this day, I was alone in the building, just the Lord and me. I felt peace when I arrived on the property, and upon entering the sanctuary, I felt a strong, sweet, inviting presence. I took a deep breath of relief: a subconscious habit, an effort to draw the richness of His Spirit within. It wasn’t logical nor even scripturally supported, but ever so satisfying.

I walked around for a moment enjoying His company and hoping He would reveal the reason for His beckoning. Perhaps it was only to come and spend time with Him. Unsure what I was supposed to pray about, I knelt. Instantly I felt the weight, the burden of His Spirit.

I prayed for whatever came to mind; images, names, faces, and situations sped through my thoughts. Tears and burdens came and went; at times, things would rapidly halt, and an issue or image would tarry until God was satisfied with the submitted petitions. Then it would begin again until it lifted, and I ran out of things to say. Thus, a typical prayer time for me transpired. It was still unclear to me why the urgency was so great. I didn’t know why He summoned me to the church for a regular prayer routine, something I could have done from the comfort of my own home.

When His release from prayer came, there was enough time to slip away before those assisting with the evening service arrived. I left and treated myself to coffee at a nearby shop.

I returned before service started and sat in my favorite spot—the forbidden back row.

There was a good Word from the Lord, good worship, and a great Spirit, but the altar call was what I remember the most.

God impressed me to pray for the spiritual foundation of the church. I began to argue with Him in my head. I felt inadequate, to say the least! I didn’t know all the saints who poured their hearts, souls, and prayers into the church, but the ones I did know, were spiritual giants to me. How could my prayers compare with or give any strength to theirs? What weight would my prayers give? I’ve learned that arguing with God wastes time and effort, so I began praying.

I was deeply immersed in His presence, though I prayed with significant doubt. How could these few moments and my few words make a difference? Saints and elders had prayed for years. And then God showed me something I will never forget.

He revealed an old-fashioned scale. The strong center column held an ornate crossbar capable of tilting higher or lower in the weighing process. Identical saucers hung on either side of the crossbar, suspended by delicate chains. In one saucer, there was a black substance that looked like tar. In the other saucer, there was a white substance that looked like salt. The crossbar tilted toward the repulsive black substance.

I continued to pray, and as I did, God drew my attention to the saucer with the white substance. Small white granules began to fall and take their place with the small heap already on the scale. When the few granules landed, they seemed not to make any difference at all.

And then it happened. Slowly, gently, the scale began to tilt. Now the white substance outweighed the black. I don’t know who or what I was praying for on this day. But I know those few specks from my obedient prayers helped change whatever was hanging in the balance for the better.

Every prayer counts, no matter how small or great it is! In this case, others carried most of the burden, but every ounce of prayer adds weight to the balance in eternity. Don’t demean your prayers. Don’t stop. Pray a ten-second prayer or make a thirty-second petition if it’s all the time you have available. Never stop. Keep knocking on Heaven’s door and keep adding to the prayer pile.

I don’t know if the white substance on the scale was salt, but if it was, the Bible describes its importance. When I read Matthew 5:13, “You are the salt of the earth,” I always thought of being a witness. But what if it extends further? What if it means having a flavorful prayer life? Ladies, whatever the extent of your prayer life today, “be salty.”

Every prayerful word makes a difference.


ROXANNE ANDERSON is a first-generation Pentecostal who has served the Lord for over thirty years and never thought of turning back. She graduated from Gateway College of Evangelism in 1983 with a Bachelor of Theology and enjoys writing, strengthening others, and being in the Lord’s house.


  1. Dear sister, Thank you for this post. How true it is. Thank you for reminding us that even the smallest prayer can make a difference in the outcome. Praying always.

  2. Love the reminder that all prayers are important.
    We may never know the difference our simple heartfelt words will make when we speak them.
    We do know God hears them and that’s enough for me.
    God bless

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