Introduction

Some days saunter. Others sprint. A calendar can feel like a carousel that won’t stop, deadlines whirling and daylight thinning. You’ve felt it, haven’t you? That wish for just a little more light, a few more minutes, a sliver of space to finish the task, to face the fight, to hug the child, to say the prayer. What if, in the middle of your battle, time didn’t slip through your fingers? What if the God who names every star is willing to steady the sun over your street and hold hope over your heart?

Joshua knew that feeling. His feet were dusty, his soldiers weary, the stakes sky-high. The enemy was fierce, the day was fading, and the mission wasn’t done. So he did what bold faith does. He looked up. He opened his mouth. He asked for the unthinkable. And the Lord answered in a way that still makes astronomers arch an eyebrow and believers bow a knee. God heard a prayer in broad daylight and, for the sake of His people, He paused the parade of the planets and lengthened the light.

You may carry your own conflict today—a medical report that rattles, a stack of bills that bulges, a relationship that aches. You’ve tried, you’ve toiled, and still the shadows gather. Hear this: Heaven is not indifferent. The Father who spins galaxies also sees your grief. The Savior who silenced storms still speaks peace over sleepless nights. When you run short on strength, lift your eyes. When you run short on time, lift your voice. The same Lord who tended Joshua’s battlefield can tend your backyard, boardroom, and bedroom.

E.M. Bounds said, “God shapes the world by prayer.” That is the ground we stand on today. Not the ground of swagger, but of supplication. Not the noise of panic, but the whisper of trust. Prayer turns faces toward the Light, and the Light does what light always does—it scatters the dark. The story before us is not a museum piece behind glass; it is a window flung wide to the wind of God’s willingness. If Joshua could ask, why can’t we? If God could answer like that then, why not now? His mercy has not mellowed. His might has not diminished. His ear has not aged.

So bring your battles. Bring your burdens. Bring the pile of “not enoughs” that sit on your desk and your chest. God delights to meet you in the middle—midday, mid-crisis, mid-sentence. Faith prays big because God is big. Faith dares to say, “Lord, please make the sun stand still over my situation until Your purpose is complete.” Even when the clock scowls and the calendar crowds, heaven has a way of making room. The Lord who authors time also allocates time to finish what He begins.

Before we ask Him to enlarge our faith, let’s watch Him do it in Scripture. Listen for the cadence of courage. Listen for the tone of tenderness. Listen for the echo of your own need in an ancient battlefield plea.

Scripture — Joshua 10:12-13 KJV 12 Then spake Joshua to the LORD in the day when the LORD delivered up the Amorites before the children of Israel, and he said in the sight of Israel, Sun, stand thou still upon Gibeon; and thou, Moon, in the valley of Ajalon. 13 And the sun stood still, and the moon stayed, until the people had avenged themselves upon their enemies. Is not this written in the book of Jasher? So the sun stood still in the midst of heaven, and hasted not to go down about a whole day.

Opening Prayer Father, Maker of morning and Master of midnight, we come to You with hearts that hunger for help. You set the sun in the sky and tell the moon when to rise; nothing is too hard for You. Teach us to trust You with bold, childlike faith. Stretch our prayers, steady our pace, and strengthen our hands. Where fear has frayed our courage, speak calm. Where time feels tight, grant grace that lengthens our labor and lights our way. Lift our eyes above the swirl of the struggle to the certainty of Your presence. Do in us what only You can do—grant faith that asks the impossible, reveal Yourself as the God who halts the sun, and extend victory through answered prayer. We ask this in the strong name of Jesus. Amen.

Faith that asks the impossible

Faith speaks up. It looks at a wall and asks for a door. It looks at a clock and asks for more light. It looks at a task and asks for strength that is not there yet. This is not hype. This is trust. It is the steady choice to bring a need to the Lord and say what is true. I cannot, but You can.

Faith does not wait for a calm day. It asks in the thick of it. It asks when sweat runs and nerves shake. It asks when plans break. It asks when the field is uneven. It asks while the problem is still loud. It asks because God is present, and God is near.

Faith uses simple words. It does not try to impress heaven. It names the need. It names the place. It names the desire. It takes the size of the request and hands it to the God who holds all things. It is plain speech with a clear aim.

Faith keeps step with what God has already started. It does not chase random wishes. It watches for where God is moving, and it steps toward that work. It reads the moment through the lens of promise. It remembers what God said. It remembers what God is doing. Then it asks for help that fits that work.

Faith has a view of the Lord that is larger than the crisis. It sees more than the hill in front of it. It remembers who made the hills. It remembers who names the stars. It remembers who writes the story. And that memory fuels the ask.

Faith shows up in normal places. In the home. In the office. In the ward. In the car. In the hall outside a meeting. In the quiet when the mind spins. It turns those places into altars. It turns needs into calls for help. It turns minutes into holy ground.

In the story, the timing matters. The request rose “in the day when the LORD delivered up the Amorites.” That line sets the scene. God had already moved. The battle was underway. The promise was in motion. Joshua did not stand apart from that work. He stood inside it. He asked for what would serve the work God had given. He asked for time because the task was not done. He knew the victory came from the Lord, and the words he spoke matched that truth. This is a pattern for us. Pray inside obedience. Ask while you obey. Look at the assignment God put in your hand today. Then ask for what will carry that assignment to the finish. When the need matches the mission, faith finds words that fit the heart of God. Your prayer then is more than a wish. It becomes part of the way God completes His plan through you.

The wording of the prayer is striking. “Sun, stand thou still upon Gibeon; and thou, Moon, in the valley of Ajalon.” The request is direct. The places are named. The need is clear. No vague phrases. No fog. He asks for light in a real sky above real ground. He asks for the kind of help that everyone can see. That is a lesson. Say the thing you need. Name the “Gibeon” in your life. Name the “valley of Ajalon” where the pressure sits. Put words to the timeline. Put words to the hurdle. Do not dress it up. Bring the exact details to God. Say, “Lord, hold this meeting. Hold this heart. Hold this body. Hold this day.” Clarity honors God. Clarity trains your heart. Clarity builds a record you and others can recall when the answer comes.

The way he prayed also formed the people around him. He spoke “in the sight of Israel.” This was not for show. It was leadership under pressure. It was trust made public. When a leader prays like that, it tells the camp where to look. It says, “Our help is from the Lord.” It also spreads courage. Others hear and stand taller. Children learn from it. Friends borrow hope from it. A whole group can shift from fear to faith when one voice points to God with honest words. This speaks to homes and teams and churches. Say the prayer out loud in your circle. Pray at the table. Pray in the meeting. Pray on the phone. Let people see who you rely on. Let them hear you ask for more than you can manage. That kind of prayer writes a witness into the memory of a community. Years later someone will say, “We asked, and God helped us there.”

The outcome is just as clear. “And the sun stood still in the midst of heaven, and hasted not to go down about a whole day.” The text links the ask and the aid. Time stretched. Work continued. The people finished what they began. This shows the heart of God toward completion. He does not start and then walk away. He gives what is needed to reach the end He planned. Sometimes that looks like strength you did not expect. Sometimes that looks like time you did not see coming. Sometimes that looks like a door that opens when the hallway felt closed. The words “about a whole day” also teach patience. The answer can be longer than your estimate. So keep at it. Keep praying while you work. Keep thanking while you move. Keep watch for small signs of progress. The God who hears your prayer holds the clock. He knows how much light you need to finish your task today.

God who halts the sun

Here the text lifts our eyes to the Lord of sky and seasons ... View this full PRO sermon free with PRO