If You Think Prayer Actually Works, You NEED To See This
If You Think Prayer Actually Works, You NEED To See This
The air inside the recording studio was thick with the scent of stale coffee and the quiet, electronic hum of three high-definition cameras tracking the slight movements of the two men. Outside, the London sky was turning a bruised, late-afternoon purple, but under the studio lights, time felt suspended.
Steven sat back in his leather chair, tapping a pen against his knee. Across from him sat Wes Huff, an apologist whose calm, professorial demeanor contrasted sharply with the aggressive, fast-paced nature of modern digital media. They were deep into an interrogation of the unseen—not just whether God existed, but the terrifyingly narrow mechanics of who gets saved and who gets left behind.
“Let’s talk about the numbers,” Steven said, his eyes narrowing slightly as he leaned toward his microphone. “You look at the data, and roughly 18% of people openly say they don’t believe in a God at all. According to strict scripture, they are almost certainly going to hell.”
Wes didn’t blink. He adjusted his glasses, leaning forward with his elbows on the desk. “Well, let’s look at what the text actually says. Take the book of James in the New Testament. James was actually the half-brother of Jesus. He writes this letter, and at one point he says, ‘You believe that God is one? Great. So do the demons.’ He adds that the demons believe—and they shudder.”
Wes let the words hang in the space between them. “So, the theological point James is making is that if anyone on a purely intellectual level knows and thoroughly believes that God exists, it’s the demons. It’s Satan himself, right? They aren’t atheists. They have absolute certainty. So, what’s the actual difference between a demon’s belief and a saving faith?”
“The difference,” Wes continued, gesturing with his hands, “is that there is a profound relational component. In Christian terminology, when someone says, ‘Jesus is my Lord and Savior,’ they are talking about two entirely distinct realities. The ‘Savior’ part means they believe He has rescued them—saved them from the spiritual penalties of sin and eternal death. But the ‘Lord’ component? That means you have actively submitted your entire life to Him in conscious obedience and repentance.”
“Now, ‘repentance’ is one of those heavy, loaded religious words that is constantly misunderstood,” Wes added, his voice dropping an octave. “True biblical repentance isn’t just feeling bad or crying at an altar. It is a radical, fundamental change in the way you perceive and live your life. It means you look at the things you used to do that are morally wrong, and you finally realize they are never going to give you true fulfillment. You stop doing them—not because God is some cosmic killjoy sitting in the clouds trying to steal your fun, but because you realize those toxic actions are actively harming you. They are tearing your life apart and creating a massive, functional separation in your relationship with God.”
Steven shifted his weight, his expression skeptical. “But if that’s the standard, Wes, we’re talking about a statistical anomaly. There is going to be a very small number of people on this planet who actually live in such a way that they are fully repented and have accepted the Lord as their savior. Right? I mean, look at the broad statistics. Only roughly 30% of people in the West actually attend a church service somewhat frequently. The other 56% seldom or never go. They aren’t active in their faith. They probably haven’t experienced this deep repentance you’re talking about. So, if you follow the logic, it would appear to me that a vanishingly small percentage of the human population actually qualifies for the Kingdom of Heaven as it’s described in the Bible.”
Wes leaned in, a soft, empathetic smile breaking through his serious expression. “Steven, the beautiful, miraculous paradox of the gospel is that your salvation is something to be received, not achieved. It is never about a spiritual scorecard. It’s not about earning brownie points with the Creator. It’s not about checking off a religious checklist where you boast, ‘I read the Bible this many times, I sat in a pew that many times, I didn’t lie, I didn’t steal, I didn’t cheat.’“
Wes sighed, looking down at his hands. “We still exist in this profoundly beautiful yet fundamentally broken world. We live in a reality that has been deeply marred by the fallout of the Fall—by the historical decision of our first parents, Adam and Eve, to rebel against the authority of God. Because of that ancient fracture, human nature and creation itself have been corrupted. It’s never been about trying to manually earn your way into heaven through good behavior.”
“So, is it a very small percentage of people who are actually repenting?” Wes asked rhetorically. “Maybe. But how many of them fully understand what that word means? It’s fascinating because the original Greek word we translate as repentance in our English Bibles is metanoia. It literally means a total transformation of the mind. Change your mind. It proves that the core of the faith isn’t just about the external ‘doing.’ It’s an internal posture of understanding. It’s reaching a point where you can say, ‘I don’t want to do these broken things anymore, even when I still find myself failing and doing them.’“
“It’s an awakening,” Wes explained, his eyes locking back onto Steven’s. “It’s when a person says, ‘I don’t want to lie anymore. I finally see the profound structural harm that deceit causes in my relationships and the brokenness it creates.’ So, even if I am still occasionally breaking the law of God out of human weakness… remember that same book of James says that if you break even one single rule of the law, it is legally as if you have broken the entire thing. I often use the illustration of a man hanging off the edge of a massive cliff, suspended only by a linked iron chain. If you take a pair of bolt cutters and cut just one single link—it doesn’t matter which one—the entire chain fails, and you fall into the abyss. That is the interconnected legal reality James is driving at.”
Steven leaned his elbows on the desk, interlocking his fingers. “You referenced the original sin—Adam and Eve taking the apple. Or the fruit, whatever the text calls it. Christians believe God made Adam and Eve. You also believe He is completely omnipotent and omniscient. Therefore, when He meticulously designed them, He knew with absolute, flawless certainty that they were going to take the fruit. But He went ahead and made them anyway.”
Steven paused, letting the implication settle over the microphones. “To an outside observer, Wes, that sounds like a total setup.”
“You could certainly read it as a setup,” Wes conceded calmly. “Many people do. But to me, what strikes me as infinitely more amazing is that God looked down the timeline, knew exactly how it would play out, and did it anyway. He didn’t hit the universal restart button. He knew that creating humanity would result in thousands and thousands of years of human history, pain, struggle, and ultimately, people freely choosing to love and worship Him.”
“See, that’s where I struggle,” Steven countered quickly, his tone sharp and analytical. “If a human creator did that, you’d think they were a deeply flawed, narcissistic person. If I manufactured something knowing for a fact it was going to make a catastrophic mistake, and that specific mistake would result in that creation being forced to worship me forever… you would say I engineered the entire crisis just to feed my own ego. You would say I did it to trap them in a cycle of permanent guilt that I personally manufactured. Logistically, what is wrong with that argument? Why isn’t that a massive logical flaw in the character of God?”
“Look, I completely understand why you could view it through that lens,” Wes said, his voice measured and patient. “Ultimately, this answer might sound like a convenient cop-out to some listeners, but the baseline truth of theism is that God possesses a multi-dimensional knowledge that we simply don’t. He has sovereign reasons for allowing the existence of moral evil that our finite human minds cannot fully comprehend or catalog, simply because He is God and we are not.”
“There is a fascinating parallel text,” Wes continued, leaning forward, “found in both the book of Revelation and the letters of Peter. The scripture states that the Lamb—meaning Jesus—was slain before the foundation of the world was ever laid. Think about the implications of that. The crucifixion of Christ, the entire grand narrative of bringing broken people back into a unified, loving relationship with God via the violent sacrifice of the only completely innocent person who ever lived… that wasn’t an emergency backup plan. It means a historic act of supreme human evil was utilized by God to accomplish the ultimate cosmic good. Once again, that is absolutely not the way I would design a universe if I were God. There are all sorts of things where we think, ‘If I were running the cosmos, I’d do it like this.’ But thank goodness I’m not God, Steven. I would get a whole lot of things wrong, and you wouldn’t want to live for a second in a world engineered by my limited wisdom.”
Wes tapped his Bible index finger on the desk. “The cross was not a divine contingency plan. It was the master plan all the way along. God is uniquely glorified in that specific act of self-giving love. If God’s defining characteristic is love, and love is the highest possible moral ethic, then the absolute greatest expression of that ethic is self-sacrifice. Through the gospel message, God communicates the ultimate ethic in the grandest possible way, achieving a permanent reconciliation with His people for His own glory. Do I understand every single hidden complexity and theological mystery wrapped up in that? Absolutely not. But I am convinced beyond a reasonable doubt that the historical and philosophical evidence for the existence of God—and specifically, the God articulated in Christian scripture—is true. And on that objective basis, I am fully willing to submit my entire life to Him.”
“You talk about the philosophy and the history,” Steven said, his eyes reflecting the studio lights. “But what about the actual human element? You told me recently about a close friend of yours who experienced a massive, undeniable transformation.”
“Oh, absolutely,” Wes nodded, a warm look coming over him. “My friend… I actually discussed his situation completely anonymously on a podcast a while back. But as soon as the episode dropped, he clipped the audio, posted it right on his personal Instagram, and tagged me saying, ‘Stephen’s talking about me on here!’ He’s started doing public interviews about his experience now, so I feel completely comfortable speaking about him openly.”
“Tell me about where he was at before,” Steven prompted.
“He was going through a massive, profound crisis of meaning in his life,” Wes explained. “He was living out in Dubai, staying in this ultra-luxury penthouse apartment. On paper, he had everything—materially wealthy, highly successful in his career, completely independent. But emotionally and spiritually, he was totally alone, remote working, trapped in that highly individualistic, consumerist modern lifestyle. Out of nowhere, he had a radical encounter with Christianity. He packed his bags, flew across the world to America, got baptized in front of a congregation, and is now a devout believer.”
“And you’ve seen a noticeable shift in him?”
“A hundred percent,” Wes said without hesitation. “If you ask me if he is genuinely happier today than he was in that Dubai penthouse, it’s a hundred percent yes. If you ask me if I am glad he made that choice, a hundred percent yes. If you ask me if his future is going to be objectively better because of his faith, a hundred percent. That is a lot of one-hundred percents, Steven, but it’s the absolute truth. We have been close friends for decades, and our entire old friend group feels exactly the same way when we talk to him. We don’t even have to personally align with his specific theological beliefs to look at his life and say, ‘Wow, this faith has radically saved that man.’“
The production crew adjusted one of the overhead lights, casting a brief, bright glare across the set before settling back into the rich, professional twilight of the studio. Steven took a sip of water, looked directly at the main camera lens, and changed his tone, his voice adopting a smooth, engaging energy.
“Hey guys, a quick break from this deep dive into faith and philosophy to talk about something practical for the new year,” Steven said, addressing the audience directly. “The start of a new year always brings a really unique, strange energy with it. Everyone around you starts talking about their grand goals, their fresh starts, and the new habits they’re going to build. But the harsh reality is that most people end up carrying the exact same unfulfilled ideas they had last year right into the next one without ever taking action. I am completely guilty of this myself.”
He leaned onto the desk, his expression empathetic. “I completely understand why starting something new—especially if it’s a new business or a passion project—feels completely overwhelming. Before you ever take the plunge, you find yourself waiting for the perfect moment or trying to become the perfect version of yourself, when in reality, the only thing that actually matters is taking that messy first step. If you’ve had an idea sitting in the back of your mind for a while—a product, an online store, a brand you’ve been hesitating on—our official sponsor, Shopify, makes it incredibly easy to finally get started.”
“With Shopify,” Steven explained, holding up his tablet to show the sleek layout, “you can build a professional digital store from scratch, seamlessly sell across all major social media platforms, process secure payments, utilize advanced AI tools, and manage your entire inventory from one single dashboard. So, if 2026 is the year you finally decide to back yourself and take the leap, go to shopify.co.uk/bartlet right now and start selling. You can sign up for a one-dollar-per-month trial period today to get your feet wet. Just head over to shopify.co.uk/bartlet. I promise you, you don’t need to have every single detail figured out. You just need to start.”
Steven tapped a heavy leather-bound journal sitting on his desk. “And on that exact note, I made something specifically for this community. I realized that the Diary of a CEO audience is made up of real strivers. Whether you’re pushing hard in business or focusing on your health, we all have massive, mountain-sized goals we want to conquer. But one thing I’ve learned over the years is that when you constantly stare at the ultimate end goal, it can feel psychologically paralyzing. It’s like standing at the very dirt foot of Mount Everest, looking straight up into the clouds. The secret to actually accomplishing your dreams is breaking them down into tiny, actionable steps. In our production team, we call this the ‘1% philosophy.’ This exact mindset is entirely responsible for the massive growth of this show.”
He held up the journal to the camera. “To help you guys execute this at home, we created the official 1% Diaries. We released our first batch last year, and they completely sold out within days. I asked my design team to bring them back for 2026, but we’ve added a beautiful new range of colors and made some minor structural tweaks to make the framework even more effective. If you have a massive goal this year and you desperately need a concrete framework, a daily process, and consistent motivation, I highly recommend grabbing one of these before they sell out again. You can secure yours right now at thediary.com, or click the direct link in the description below.”
Steven turned back to Wes, the commercial energy fading as they plunged back into the intellectual waters of the debate. “Let’s look at one of the arguments that heavily influenced me when I was going through my own atheist phase as a teenager. It’s the geographical argument, which I’m sure you’ve encountered a thousand times in your line of work. If I had been born in the heart of Saudi Arabia, statistically, I would almost certainly be a practicing Muslim today. If I had been born in rural India, I’d likely be a Hindu. It appears that the specific religion an individual believes is entirely dependent on the random geography of their birth, rather than an objective evaluation of absolute truth. When I was nineteen, I remember thinking, ‘Oh my God… that means the random coordinate of your birth determines whether you go to a place of eternal, fiery suffering or not.’ That felt fundamentally unfair. And because it felt so unjust, I concluded the whole system must be a human invention.”
Wes nodded knowingly. “I hear that objection constantly. But let me give you my personal context: I was actually born in Pakistan. I was born in a heavily majority-Muslim country, yet I am sitting here today as a Christian apologist. Now, you could easily counter and say, ‘Well, Wes, your parents weren’t Muslims,’ which is true. But I personally know many people from that region who transitioned. My colleague Steve, who serves as our Alberta director at Apologetics Canada, was born in South Korea and was raised in an entirely Buddhist educational and cultural environment.”
“Right, but the macro-numbers are still the numbers,” Steven pressed, leaning forward. “I don’t know the exact global statistics off the top of my head, but you are well over 90% likely to adopt the dominant religion of whatever territory you are raised in. As a teenager, that realization hit me hard. It didn’t fit. It didn’t feel fair that a loving God would determine a human being’s eternal destination based entirely on who their parents were or where they happened to conceive a child.”
“Sure,” Wes said softly, his eyes steady. “But in a purely theological sense, Steven… you don’t actually want ‘fair.’ Because according to scripture, true fairness means every single one of us going straight to hell. The core of the gospel message is fundamentally not about fairness.”
Steven looked confused. “What do you mean?”
“Fairness means you get the exact, just penalty for what you have done,” Wes explained clearly. “That is why the concepts of mercy and grace are so radically central to the Christian faith. Religious systems like Buddhism and Hinduism are based entirely on strict fairness—the law of Karma. The cycle of Samsara—life, death, birth, and cosmic rebirth—is the ultimate expression of fairness. You get exactly what you earned in your past life. But what the God of the Bible does is completely unique. He intervenes directly in human history. He incarnates, takes on human flesh, and steps down into our broken reality. He experiences physical pain, betrayal, emotional hurt, deep suffering, and ultimately a brutal death. That makes Him entirely unique among world religions—He is experiential to the exact struggles and doubts you and I face daily.”
“And then,” Wes said, his voice filled with conviction, “He takes on the massive cosmic punishment that we deserved. True fairness would be Wes Huff getting the exact weight and penalty of his own rebellion against God. The gospel is about a substitution of that fairness.”
“I’m still a bit unclear on the logistics,” Steven admitted, shaking his head. “If I had Moroccan parents and was raised in Morocco, my probability of being a devout Muslim is roughly 99%. Theoretically, that cultural setup is positioning me to face eternal judgment, correct?”
“Yes,” Wes answered directly. “Insofar as you are choosing to bear the ultimate weight of your own sins. That is the baseline human condition. You are either standing before the law on your own merits, taking on your own guilt, or Christ has taken on that sin for you and you are covered by His divine intercession. But as we discussed earlier, it’s not merely about an intellectual box of ‘believing or not believing’—it’s about the orientation of the heart toward truth.”
“That’s a helpful distinction,” Steven murmured, looking down at his notes. “That gives me a different perspective than I had before.”
“The other major roadblock I struggled with growing up was the concept of prayer,” Steven said, shifting the conversation. “This was incredibly compelling to me when I was younger. I would read horrific historical accounts of tragedy—like the sheer scale of suffering that occurred in Nazi Germany. I’d read letters showing that the victims were often deeply religious people who were praying desperately for deliverance, yet it didn’t seem to alter the mathematical odds of their fate by a single percentage point. Even today, when you look at macro-hospital statistics comparing devout Christians to secular non-believers, the act of prayer doesn’t appear to have a statistically significant impact on medical outcomes. So, at nineteen, I concluded that prayer simply doesn’t work. Why are millions of people doing it when history shows no empirical evidence of it working? What is your perspective? If my child falls critically ill tomorrow and I start praying, is that actually going to help?”
“Well, it begs a fundamental question,” Wes replied, tilting his head. “What do we actually think prayer is? Do we believe prayer is a series of magical incantations designed to placate a distant deity? Does it mean God is essentially a cosmic genie in a lamp, where if we articulate the right sequence of words, He is obligated to grant our wishes?”
“Right,” Steven said. “That’s how a lot of people view it.”
“Exactly,” Wes agreed. “And to be fair, there are many ancient religious systems where that is exactly what prayer was. Look at the agricultural deities of the Ancient Near East—you say the exact ritual phrases, you offer the precise physical sacrifices, and the hope is that the gods will accept the bargain and reciprocate by granting you rain or good crops. But prayer in Christianity is an entirely different ecosystem. It is a relational dialogue. It is a give-and-take. It is Creator God desiring deep, authentic communication with you.”
“If you read the biblical Psalms,” Wes continued, “many of which are raw, unedited prayers… you see the ‘lament psalms.’ It’s King David or the writers coming before God and screaming, ‘I don’t get it. I am hurting, I am broken, I am completely alone, and I don’t feel Your presence anywhere.’ That raw honesty is the relational core of prayer. Now, prayer isn’t only that. It certainly involves supplication—committing your deepest hurts and desires to God because you fundamentally believe He is an active agent who can work miracles within the physical universe. The Bible explicitly commands us in Jeremiah to pour out our hearts to Him, saying, ‘Call to me and I will answer you.’ In Matthew, Jesus says, ‘Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened.’“
“But there is a bit of a danger in quote-mining those verses out of their literary context,” Wes cautioned, raising a finger. “The context of ‘knock and the door shall be opened’ is primarily referring to the salvific, redemptive act of God. It means if you are genuinely seeking after the character of God with an authentic, open heart and an honest mind, He promises that He will reveal Himself to you and enter your life. Now, when it comes to specific requests, God can answer yes, He can answer no, or He can answer wait. All three of those are definitive answers from a loving Father who sees the end of the story.”
Steven watched him, processing the weight of the explanation as the studio lights began to dim, signaling the end of the recording block. He looked back into the primary lens, delivering his final sign-off with crisp, professional authority.
“If you love the Diary of a CEO brand and you watch our content regularly, please do me a huge personal favor. Join the elite 15% of our regular viewers who have actually hit that subscribe button. It helps our production team tremendously, and the bigger this channel gets, the bigger the guests we can bring on to have these incredible conversations. Thank you so much for watching, and we’ll see you next week.”
