At first reading, Jesus’ story about the persistent widow and the unjust judge (Luke 18:1-8) seems to suggest that, if we don’t get what we want, then we ought to keep badgering God until we do. But according to Luke, the reason Jesus told this parable was not to turn us into nagging pests when we are in prayer, but rather that we not “lose heart” if those prayers appear to go unanswered.

In the parable, we are never told exactly what this woman’s complaint was … but since she is a widow, it probably involved her dead husband’s estate. Keep in mind that under Jewish law she cannot inherit it—it goes straight to her sons or to her brothers-in-law. However, she was allowed to live off of it. That is, unless someone is trying to cheat her out of it, which is probably the case here. The fact that she is standing alone in the street, crying out for justice, is a pretty good indicator that none of the men in her family is on her side.

Her primary obstacle to obtaining justice is a less than respectable judge, who simply refuses to hear her case. By his own admission, he fears neither God nor anyone else. Maybe he thinks that makes him a better judge—more impartial and all of that—or maybe he has sat on the bench long enough to know that family matters like this are messy and complicated, and he’s just not in mood to deal with it.

Whatever the reason, he seems to take a great deal of pride in being impervious. God does not bother him … other people do not bother him … but, eventually, this persistent widow does! In fact, that’s why he finally agrees to hear her case. In a word, she has become a bother.

So what does this parable say about God? Should we turn our daily prayers into temper tantrums until we get what we want? Should we keep bellyaching to God, and badgering God, until God finally says, “Enough already … I give up”?

I don’t think so. Actually, I’m not sure this parable is as much about God as it is about us. In other words, the person Jesus seems to want us to notice in this story is not the judge, it’s the widow—and how, even when she found herself all alone, she did not lose heart.

She knew what she wanted and she knew who could give it to her. Whether he actually did give it to her was beyond her control, but that did not matter to her. She was willing to say what she wanted—out loud, day and night, over and over again—whether she got it or not, because saying it was how she remembered who she was.

Because what would have been her alternative? To retreat home and crawl into bed with a box of Kleenex? To give up on the judicial system? To spend the rest of her days, bitter and resentful?

She can’t do that. The reason she keeps going back to that courtroom is because it’s the only way to remain true to who she is. And maybe that’s why we keep praying—even when it seems as if no one is listening—because it’s the only way to keep in touch with our own hearts, and to remember who we really are.