You know those people who just won’t take no for an answer?
The ones who keep showing up, keep asking, keep pushing until they get what they came for?
Yeah, Jesus told a whole parable about one of them. And it might be the most misunderstood story He ever told.
The Setup: Why This Story Even Exists
Right away, Luke tells us exactly why Jesus is telling this story: “to show them that they should always pray and not give up” (Luke 18:1). There’s no mystery here. No hidden meaning. Jesus wants His followers to understand one thing: don’t quit praying.
This parable doesn’t show up randomly in the middle of Luke’s gospel. It comes right after Jesus has been talking about the end times. His return, the Kingdom of God, all the heavy stuff about waiting and enduring.
So the context matters. Jesus isn’t just giving generic advice about prayer. He’s specifically addressing people who are going to face injustice, suffering, and the agonizing wait for things to be made right. He’s saying: here’s how you survive the waiting. Here’s how you keep your faith intact when it feels like God has put you on hold.
Meet the Worst Judge in History
The story centers on two people who couldn’t be more different. First up: the judge.
This guy is terrible. Jesus describes him as someone who “neither feared God nor cared about people.” Think about that for a second. A judge. Someone whose entire job is supposed to be about justice and righteousness, who has zero respect for God and zero compassion for humans.
In In Jewish culture, judges were supposed to be God’s representatives on earth. They were commanded to protect the vulnerable and uphold justice because they ultimately answered to God Himself. This judge? He’s the complete opposite. He’s corrupt, selfish, and represents everything wrong with human systems of power.
He’s not the hero of this story. He’s the villain.
Enter the Widow (AKA the Most Stubborn Woman in Scripture)
Now meet our actual hero: a widow.
In the ancient world, widows were about as powerless as you could get. No husband meant no legal protection, no financial security, and no voice in society. They were vulnerable, often exploited, and easily ignored.
But this widow? She refuses to be ignored.
She keeps showing up at the judge’s door demanding ekdikēsis (a Greek word that means way more than just “help me out.”) She’s demanding complete vindication. Full justice. She wants her rights restored and her opponent dealt with. She’s not asking for a handout; she’s demanding what’s rightfully hers.
And she won’t stop. Just. Won’t. Stop.
The Judge Caves (But Not For the Reason You Think)
Here’s something really interesting. Eventually, the judge gives in. But why?
He literally says: “lest by her continual coming she weary me.” Now, most English translations smooth this over, but the Greek word hypopiazō is intense. It literally means “to strike under the eye” or “to give a black eye.”
Wait, what? Was this old woman about to physically assault a judge?
Not quite. In their culture, this phrase meant she was going to publicly destroy his reputation. She was going to give him a metaphorical black eye. Humiliate him, expose him, ruin his credibility. The judge was terrified of being shamed.
He doesn’t grant justice because he suddenly grew a conscience. He grants it to save his own skin.
Let that sink in for a minute. The judge acts justly for completely selfish reasons. Pure self-preservation.
The Punch Line That Delivers
This is where Jesus delivers the theological knockout punch. It’s a “lesser to greater” argument, and it’s brilliant:
If a corrupt, selfish judge who doesn’t care about God or people will finally act justly just to protect his own reputation, how much more certain is it that God, who is perfectly righteous and already loves His chosen people, will act on their behalf?
The judge acts reluctantly, under constant pressure, for selfish reasons.
God acts willingly, eagerly, out of His inherent righteousness and love.
If the worst possible judge eventually delivers justice, God, the best possible judge absolutely will.
But What About the Waiting?
Here’s the part that messes with us: Jesus says God “will surely give justice to his chosen people who cry out to him day and night.” But then He adds this phrase about God’s “long patience” (makrothymia).
Wait a second. Patience? Aren’t we supposed to get quick answers?
Jesus addresses this head-on. He promises that God “will grant justice to them quickly (en tachei).” But “quickly” here doesn’t necessarily mean “immediately.” In the context of end-times language, it means certainly, suddenly, decisively.
The wait might feel long. The silence might feel deafening. But when God acts? It will be swift, complete, and undeniable.
The delay isn’t God’s indifference. It might be purposeful. Giving oppressors time to repent, allowing believers’ faith to deepen, working things together in ways we can’t see yet. God’s timing isn’t our timing, but His justice is guaranteed.
The Uncomfortable Question Jesus Leaves Us With
Just when you think the parable is wrapping up with a nice, encouraging bow, Jesus drops this bomb: “But when the Son of Man returns, how many will he find on the earth who have faith?”
The question implies a fairly disturbing answer: not many.
The faith Jesus is talking about here isn’t just intellectual belief. It’s not “I believe God exists.” It’s the tenacious, relentless, widow-style faith that keeps showing up, keeps praying, keeps trusting even when the answer seems delayed.
True faith looks like persistent prayer. It’s the practical evidence that you still believe God will make things right.
The warning is clear: many people will give up before the end. They’ll stop praying. They’ll lose faith. They’ll decide God isn’t listening.
The ones who endure? They’re the ones who pray like that widow pursued justice. Relentlessly, stubbornly, refusing to quit.
What This Looks Like in Real Life
This story makes me think of my mother.
She’s a prayer warrior. And I don’t use that term lightly. I was not an easy kid to raise. I’m adopted, and personality-wise, we’re polar opposites. She’s quiet, calm, steady. She prefers staying behind the scenes, helping others with their kids, teaching with patience I’ve never possessed.
Me? I’m loud, opinionated, stubborn, never met a spotlight I didn’t like. We’re talking absolute opposite ends of the spectrum.
My teenage years were brutal. I screamed. I swore. I slammed doors. I was cruel in ways I’m still ashamed of. And through it all, my mother prayed.
I left home at seventeen. We barely spoke for years. But she never stopped praying. She’s told me since how she gave me to God every single day, praying for my safety, that God would show me His love, that His will would be done in my life.
It took almost three decades.
But He answered her.
The transformation in my life has been so sudden, so thorough, that everyone who knows me recognizes it. I genuinely believe my mother’s constant prayers kept me. They protected me even when I didn’t know I needed protection. She prayed for me to know God, and now I do. She prayed for His will to be done in me, and it is being done.
Prayer is the single most powerful weapon we have. Constant communication with God (asking for direction, strength, wisdom) is what keeps faith alive. I believe it’s so powerful that while the enemy tried to attack my beliefs about myself, he couldn’t touch my beliefs about God because they were protected by my mother’s prayers.
The Bottom Line
This parable isn’t about bothering God until He gives in. It’s not about wearing God down like the widow wore down the judge.
It’s about the exact opposite.
If a terrible judge eventually acts justly for selfish reasons, how much more will a perfectly good God act justly out of love? God doesn’t need to be convinced. He doesn’t need to be worn down. He’s already committed to making things right.
The widow’s persistence wasn’t what created justice. It was the evidence of her faith that justice would come.
Here’s the truth this parable demands we face: God will act. The only question is whether we’ll maintain the stubborn, relentless faith to still be praying when He does. The widow’s story isn’t finished, and neither is yours.
Every prayer you speak is an act of defiance against despair. A declaration that you still believe in a God who makes things right. So don’t give up. Keep crying out. Keep believing. Because when the Son of Man returns, may He find you, like that remarkable widow, still standing, still praying, still trusting in the justice that is surely coming
Persistent prayer isn’t changing God’s mind. It’s keeping your faith alive
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