Prayer and Answers


GOD IS REAL, HIS WORD IS TRUE, AND I BELIEVE IT!  What a solid foundation for all of us to come to God in prayer.
“…he that cometh to God must believe that he is, and that he is a rewarder of them that diligently seek him.” (Heb. 11:6)

Christian Prayer Quotes – Find Here Prayer Quotations from Christian Leaders

This page may feature comments on the promise, purpose and power of prayer, etc.; but primarily, it will share examples of answered prayer. Look for new items to be posted at the top of this section from time to time.


Can God Heal a Duck?

My husband and I were saved November 5, 1961.  Easter, 1964 our son was around 4.  His grandmother gave him and his little sister two baby ducks, so in our small back yard was 1 dog, 7 little puppies, 2 little kittens, 2 little ducks, and 2 little children.

One day the following Fall the dog tried to have our son’s duck for lunch.  The dog had broken down the duck’s back and chewed the duck’s legs.  Our son found his duck lying on the ground, alive, but it couldn’t get up or walk. I explained to him that the duck was suffering and we were going to have to put it out of misery.

Today I can still recall the look in those big blue eyes with tears, as our son looked me straight in the eyes and said, “but, Mommy., can’t God heal my duck?”  I answered him as honestly as I could that I didn’t know, but we could go into his bedroom, kneel and pray and tell God how very important this duck was to this little boy and would He please heal the duck.

As the kids were put to bed that night again our son asked God to heal his duck in his I-lay-me-down-to-sleep prayer.  Before I went to bed, I just had to look out into the yard to see what God was doing, “that’s the human part of, no.”  The duck was still lying in the same spot our son had found it in.  He had given it corn and water, but the duck still couldn’t move.

The next morning at 5:00 a.m. I heard a very loud quack and it just kept getting louder.  This was their usual feeding time.  When I looked out the door both ducks were standing there quacking their heads off.  In fact, they looked like they had a smile on their faces.  You could not see one mark on the injured duck, so during the night, God healed a duck.

God knew in this family’s lifetime we would have to claim the faith of healing and miracles over and over again, and if you would ask this family about healing we would tell you God healed a duck.

I’ve told this story to people before that if God loved a little boy so much to heal his duck how much more he loves you and me.  As grownups we have to find the little child in each of us and just believe.  We need to let Jesus take us in his arms, put his hand on us and bless us, and remember…and God healed a duck.

—shared by parents, Bud and Kay Hampton


During the late 1950’s there was, in a mid-western state of the USA, a church operated college that was primarily a center of training those who sought to become ministers and/or missionaries. One day in one of my classes there was a discussion of ways in which prayers for spiritual transformation could be answered.

One of the students, from one of the eastern states, told of a man from “back home” who prayed and had an answer to his prayer.

There was a couple that was married. The wife was a faithful Christian and prayed regularly for her husband to come to a personal relationship with God. The husband was a man that openly sinned and made no pretense of interest in spiritual things.

The husband worked as a lineman that would regularly go to the top of utility poles, often at very great heights. One day, as he was atop a pole, his belt suddenly broke and he fell to the ground. His fellow workers rushed to him fearing that he would be dead on impact. Somehow he had survived the impact but was unconscious.

A few days later, in a hospital, he rallied out of his coma. His wife was sitting on a chair next to his bed. He opened his eyes, looked at her, and said, “I am saved.”

He later said that when the belt broke and he started to fall, it flashed through his mind that as soon as he hit the ground he would instantly die. Then the thought flashed through his mind that he would immediately be in hell. In mid-air he prayed, “God save me.” Something happened while he was still in the fall. The next thing he was conscious of, was seeing his wife and telling her, “I am saved.”

The student who told of the incident said that the man’s life was totally transformed and from that time onward he was a model Christian. Another student from that same area spoke up and said that he knew the couple and that the account was accurate. Still another student from that same area spoke up and said that he also knew the couple and declared that the story was indeed true.

Had the lineman that fell died upon impact we would likely have said that he had no chance to pray and get right with God. Somehow, during the time between the breaking of the lineman’s belt and the impact with the ground there were two prayers that were answered. The prayer of the falling lineman, and the prayer of his wife who had prayed for his salvation.
—shared by Rev. John Tipton (who witnessed the classroom discussion)


It was one of the hottest days of the dry season. We had not seen rain in almost a month. The crops were dying. Cows had stopped giving milk. The creeks and streams were long gone back into the earth. It was a dry season that would bankrupt several farmers before it was through. Every day, my husband and his brothers would go about the arduous process of trying to get water to the fields. Lately this process had involved taking a truck to the local water rendering plant and filling it up with water. But severe rationing had cut everyone off. If we didn’t see some rain soon…we would lose everything. It was on this day that I learned the true lesson of sharing and witnessed the only miracle I have seen with my own eyes. I was in the kitchen making lunch for my husband and his brothers when I saw my six-year-old son, Billy, walking toward the woods. He wasn’t walking with the usual carefree abandon of a youth but with a serious purpose. I could only see his back. He was obviously walking with a great effort … trying to be as still as possible. Minutes after he disappeared into the woods, he came running out again, toward the house. I went back to making sandwiches; thinking that whatever task he had been doing was completed. Moments later, however, he was once again walking in that slow purposeful stride toward the woods. This activity went on for an hour: walking carefully to the woods, running back to the house.

Finally I couldn’t take it any longer and I crept out of the house and followed him on his journey (being very careful not to be seen…as he was obviously doing important work and didn’t need his Mommy checking up on him). He was cupping both hands in front of him as he walked, being very careful not to spill the water he held in them … maybe two or three tablespoons were held in his tiny hands. I sneaked close as he went into the woods. Branches and thorns slapped his little face, but he did not try to avoid them. He had a much higher purpose. As I leaned in to spy on him, I saw the most amazing site.

Several large deer loomed in front of him. Billy walked right up to them. I almost screamed for him to get away. A huge buck with elaborate antlers was dangerously close. But the buck did not threaten him…he didn’t even move as Billy knelt down. And I saw a tiny fawn lying on the ground; obviously suffering from dehydration and heat exhaustion, lift its head with great effort to lap up the water cupped in my beautiful boy’s hand. When the water was gone, Billy jumped up to run back to the house and I hid behind a tree. I followed him back to the house to a spigot to which we had shut off the water. Billy opened it all the way up and a small trickle began to creep out. He knelt there, letting the drip, drip slowly fill up his makeshift “cup,” as the sun beat down on his little back. And it came clear to me: The trouble he had gotten into for playing with the hose the week before. The lecture he had received about the importance of not wasting water. The reason he didn’t ask me to help him. It took almost twenty minutes for the drops to fill his hands. When he stood up and began the trek back, I was there in front of him.

His little eyes just filled with tears. “I’m not wasting,” was all he said. As he began his walk, I joined him…with a small pot of water from the kitchen. I let him tend to the fawn. I stayed away. It was his job. I stood on the edge of the woods watching the most beautiful heart I have ever known working so hard to save another life. As the tears that rolled down my face began to hit the ground, other drops…and more drops…and more suddenly joined them. I looked up at the sky. It was as if God, himself, was weeping with pride. Some will probably say that this was all just a huge coincidence. Those miracles don’t really exist. That it was bound to rain sometime. And I can’t argue with that… I’m not going to try. All I can say is that the rain that came that day saved our farm…just like the actions of one little boy saved another. …source not known


Helen Roseveare, a missionary doctor from England to Zaire Africa, shares the following true story:

One night I had worked hard to help a mother in the labor ward; but in spite of all we could do she died leaving us with a tiny premature baby and a crying two‑year‑old daughter. We would have difficulty keeping the baby alive, as we had no incubator. (We had no electricity to run an incubator.)  We also had no special feeding facilities.

Although we lived on the equator, nights were often chilly with treacherous drafts. One student midwife went for the box we had for such babies and the cotton wool the baby would be wrapped in. Another went to stoke up the fire and fill a hot water bottle. She came back shortly in distress to tell me that in filling the bottle, it had burst. Rubber perishes easily in tropical climates. “And it is our last hot water bottle!” she exclaimed.

As in the West it is no good crying over spilled milk, so in Central Africa it might be considered no good crying over burst water bottles. They do not grow on trees, and there are no drugstores down forest pathways.

“All right,” I said, “Put the baby as near the fire as you safely can, and sleep between the baby and the door to keep it free from drafts. “Your job is to keep the baby warm.”

The following noon, as I did most days, I went to have prayers with any of the orphanage children who chose to gather with me. I gave the youngsters various suggestions of things to pray about and told them about the tiny baby. I explained our problem about keeping the baby warm enough, mentioning the hot water bottle. The baby could so easily die if it got chills. I also told them of the two‑year‑old sister, crying because her mother had died. During the prayer time, one ten‑year‑old girl, Ruth, prayed with the usual blunt conciseness of our African children, “Please, God,” she prayed, “send us a water bottle. It’ll be no good tomorrow, God, as the baby will be dead, so please send it this afternoon.”

While I gasped inwardly at the audacity of the prayer, she added by way of a corollary, “And while You are about it, would You please send a dolly for the little girl so she’ll know You really love her?”

As often with children’s prayers, I was put on the spot. Could I honestly say, “Amen?” I just did not believe that God could do this. Oh, yes, I know that He can do everything. The Bible says so. But there are limits, aren’t there? The only way God could answer this particular prayer would be by sending me a parcel from the homeland. I had been in Africa for almost four years at that time, and I had never, ever received a parcel from home. Anyway, if anyone did send me as parcel, who would put in a hot water bottle? I lived on the equator!

Halfway through the afternoon, while I was teaching in the nurses’ training school, a message was sent that there was a car at my front door. By the time I reached home, the car had gone, but there, on the verandah, was a large twenty‑two pound parcel. I felt tears pricking my eyes. I could not open the parcel alone, so I sent for the orphanage children. Together we pulled off the string, carefully undoing each knot. We folded the paper, taking care not to tear it unduly.

Excitement was mounting. Some thirty or forty pairs of eyes were focused on the large cardboard box. From the top, I lifted out brightly colored, knitted jerseys. Eyes sparkled as I gave them out. Then there were the knitted bandages for the leprosy patients, and the children looked a little bored. Then came a box of mixed raisins and sultanas‑‑that would make a nice batch of buns for the weekend.

Then, as I put my hand in again, I felt the…could it really be? I grasped it and pulled it out‑‑yes, a brand‑new, rubber hot water bottle!

I cried. I had not asked God to send it; I had not truly believed that He could. Ruth was in the front row of the children. She rushed forward, crying out, “If God has sent the bottle, He must have sent the dolly, too!”

Rummaging down to the bottom of the box, she pulled out the small, beautifully dressed dolly, Her eyes shone! She had never doubted. Looking up at me, she asked: “Can I go over with you, Mummy, and give this dolly to that little girl, so she’ll know that Jesus really loves her?”

That parcel had been on the way for five whole months. Packed up by my former Sunday school class, whose leader had heard and obeyed God’s prompting to send a hot water bottle, even to the equator. And one of the girls had put in a dolly for an African child‑‑five months before‑‑in answer to the believing prayer of a ten‑year‑old to bring it that afternoon!  “Before they call, I will answer!” Isa. 65:24


Okie V. Boyer was born on February 11, 1877 in Vinton County, Ohio, and became a Pickaway County centenarian.  He celebrated his 106th birthday in Circleville where he had made his home for many years.  He was the father of eight children.  Ethel Boyer and Maneva Ross, his daughters with whom he lived, took good care of him.  He stayed alert and never had much illness.

In his younger days, Mr. Boyer worked at several different occupations.  He worked as a sawyer, was a coal miner, a carpenter, the caretaker of a cemetery, a painter, and a beekeeper, to name a few.  He enjoyed gardening into his 90’s.

The Lord started convicting Mr. Boyer of his sinful way of living.  When he was 53 years old, he went to an old oak tree to pray.  He was determined not to leave until he was saved.  After his conversion, he asked the Lord to give him as much time to serve Him as he had spent serving Satan.  God granted his request.  So, he lived another 53 years!  When he fell ill to a virus, knowing that his prayer had been answered, he told his daughters to let him go.  In his own bed at home, he raised his arms in the air and motioned for Jesus to come and get him.  He entered into his eternal reward on May 20th, 1983.

Mr. Boyer attributed his longevity to following the biblical principle in Deuteronomy 5:16. “Honour thy father and thy mother, as the Lord thy God hath commanded thee; that thy days may be prolonged, and that it may go well with thee, in the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee.”                                                                                      —Shared by a granddaughter, Bea Boltenhouse and a great-grandson, Keith Stevenson


More than thirty years ago, one lovely Sabbath morning, about eight young men, students in a law school, were walking along the banks of a stream that flows into the Potomac river, not far from the city of Washington. They were going to a grove, in a retired place, to spend the hours of that holy day in playing cards. Each of them had a flask of wine in his pocket. They were the sons of praying mothers. As they were walking along amusing each other with idle jests, the bell of a church in a little village not two miles off began to ring. It sounded in the ears of those thoughtless young men as plainly as though it were only on the other side of the little stream along which they were walking.

Presently one of their number, whose name was George, stopped, and said to the friend nearest him that he would go no farther, but would return to the village and go to church. His friend called out to their companions, who were a little ahead of them ‘ Boys! Boys! Come back here; George is getting religious; we must help him. Come on, and let us baptize him by immersion in the water.” In a moment they formed a circle around him. They told him that the only way he could save himself from having a cold bath was by going with them.

In a calm, quiet, but earnest way, he said: “I know very well that you have power enough to put me in the water, and hold me there till I am drowned; and, if you choose, you can do so, and I will make no resistance; but listen to what I have to say, and then do as you think best.“You all know that I am two hundred miles away from home; but you do not know that my mother is a helpless, bed-ridden invalid. I never remember seeing her out of bed. I am her youngest child. My father could not afford to pay for my schooling; but our teacher is a warm friend of my father, and offered to take me without any charge. He was very anxious for me to come; but mother would not consent. The struggle almost cost her what little life was left to her. At length, after many prayers on the subject, she yielded and said I might go. The preparations for my leaving home were soon made. My mother never said a word to me on the subject till the morning when I was about to leave. After I had eaten my breakfast she sent for me, and asked me if everything was ready. I told her all was ready, and I was only waiting for the stage. At her request I kneeled beside her bed. With her loving hand upon my head, she prayed for her youngest child. Many and many a night I have dreamed that whole scene over. It is the happiest recollection of my life. I believe, till the day of my death, I shall be able to repeat every word of that prayer.

Then she spoke to me thus:“My precious boy, you do not know, you never can know, the agony of a mother’s heart, in parting, for the last time, from her youngest child. When you leave home, you will have looked, for the last time, this side of the grave, on the face of her who loves you as no other mortal does or can. Your father cannot afford the expense of your making us visits during the two years that your studies will occupy. I cannot possibly live as long as that. The sand in the hourglass of my life has nearly run out. In the far off strange place to which you are going, there will be no loving mother to give counsel in time of trouble. Seek counsel and help from God. Every Sabbath morning, from ten to eleven o’clock, I will spend the hour in prayer for you. Wherever you may be during this sacred hour, when you hear the church bells ringing, let your thoughts come back to this chamber, where your dying mother will be agonizing in prayer for you. But I hear the stage coming. Kiss me-farewell!”

Boys, I never expect to see my mother again on earth. But by God’s help, I mean to meet her in heaven.”As George stopped speaking the tears were streaming down his cheeks. He looked at his companions. Their eyes were filled with tears.In a moment the ring which they had formed about him was opened. He passed out and went to church. He had stood up for the right against great odds.They admired him for doing what they had not the courage to do. They all followed him to church. On their way there, each of them quietly threw away his cards and his wine-flask. Never again did these young men play cards on the Sabbath. From that day they all became changed men. Six of them died Christians, and are now in heaven. George is an able Christian lawyer in Iowa; and his friend, who wrote this account, has been for many years an earnest, active member of the church. Here were eight men converted by the prayers of that good Christian woman. And, if we only knew all the results of their examples and their labors, we should have a good illustration of a mother’s prayers                — Bible Models—from Touching Incidents and Remarkable Answers to Prayer by S.B. Shaw


When I was in the first or second grade I remember finding a baby squirrel that had fallen out of a tree.  I placed the squirrel in a shoe box surrounded with soft rags so it would feel comfortable and I took it to school to show it off.  I think maybe the squirrel was probably getting too much attention because our teacher said she thought it was getting sick and told me that I should take it back home.   She also made it very clear that I was to hurry and get back to school right away.

Our house was at the edge of town and I thought I would take a short cut and go across the field rather than taking the street home as I normally did.  I really thought I would be in big trouble if I did not obey my teacher and get back to school right away.  All went well until I crossed the field and came into our back yard.  A mean rooster saw me and chased me up a tree.  This rooster had flogged me in the past and I knew that he meant business.

I stayed  in the tree for what seemed to be a very long time.  Then I figured that the rooster may have forgotten me for he was quite a distance away.   I slowly climbed down the tree and tried to sneak my way to the house but the rooster saw me and chased me back up into the tree.  I don’t remember how many times this happened but I do remember being very worried about what my teacher would do when I came back to school late.  I thought she might send me to the principal and I’d get a paddling.

In my desperation I decided to pray.  As far as I can remember  no one had ever taken me to church or Sunday School and no one had ever  talked  to me about God.    I remember trying to figure out what God looked like.  I figured He must be very big.

Here’s what I prayed: “God, please make it snow very hard so this rooster will run back into the chicken house and I can get this squirrel in the house and get back to school right away.” And I remember adding…”If you will do this I’ll pray every day.”

Well, believe it or not, God did what I had requested.  Just as soon as I finished my prayer the wind started blowing very hard and in my mind’s eye I can still see the snow coming, a little at first and then a lot of it. It was one of those  horizontal snows that we sometimes see on a very windy day in the winter (but it wasn’t winter when I prayed this prayer; maybe Fall but not winter).  And I can still see that rooster and a lot of other chickens running very fast  into the chicken house.  I quickly took the squirrel into the house and ran back to school (by way of the street, not the field) and I didn’t even get into trouble with my teacher.  I don’t remember her saying anything.

Did I keep my promise to pray every day?  Yes, for about three days I remember getting between the garage and a fence where no one could see me and I prayed.  After that I’m sorry to say that I forgot, but how wonderful it is to know that God did not forget me.                                                                                                                  —elmer winner


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