Finding Faith in Uncertainty: A Dive into Sam Smith’s “Pray”

11 min read time

In 2017, Sam Smith released the album The Thrill Of It All. One of its most powerful, vulnerable, and arguably most relatable tracks about spirituality is “Pray.” “Pray” captures Smith’s journey as he battles the challenges that come with becoming aware of both the world’s struggles and our own ignorance.

I still remember listening to this album for the first time during my senior year, while I was working through the realization that, amidst all the college applications and senior send-offs, the responsibility to help bring the world one step closer to peace would soon rest on my shoulders. I admit, I was being a bit dramatic, but anyone who has been through senior year in the American education system understands the pressure that comes from seemingly small conversations filled with questions like, “What do you want to do when you grow up?” or college essays that ask us to define the most important moment of our lives – all within our 18 years of existence.

Listening to “Pray” was a welcome break from those pressure-filled conversations. Hearing an adult—even Smith, at just 25—speak about the hopelessness he felt while reflecting on his experience visiting Iraq was profound. The song raises the question: What do we do when we feel helpless? Who do we turn to? For Smith, the answer was turning back to prayer. Below are some of his lyrics, along with my accompanying analysis and thoughts. There are a few lyrics I would like to point out from Smiths “Pray”, but click here to view a lyric analysis on Genius, which provides more background on Smith’s influences when writing this song.

Lyric Analysis

Verse 1: The Power of Ignorance

Smith begins his first verse with the following lyrics:

I’m young and I’m foolish, I’ve made bad decisions
I block out the news, turn my back on religion
Don’t have no degree, I’m somewhat naïve
I’ve made it this far on my own

This verse raises an essential topic when it comes to spirituality – the grip of ignorance. On one hand, ignorance brings a certain blissful detachment. When you turn your back on religion, people, and the struggles of the world, you tend to fall into a self-centered mindset, focusing only on yourself and the things that directly affect you. That is a liberating feeling because you don’t have to deal with the burden of managing your emotions and the empathy associated with others—you essentially feel no responsibility toward them. However, this ignorance can only carry you so far, not just in life but in your spiritual connection.

Remember, spirituality encompasses a great deal, including the ways in which we connect with those around us and beyond to strengthen our inner spirit. Cutting out the external leaves you isolated. Smith continues on to say:

But lately, that shit ain’t been gettin’ me higher
I lift up my head and the world is on fire
There’s dread in my heart and fear in my bones
And I just don’t know what to say

When we awaken from our ignorance, the shock can be overwhelming, but it’s in that moment where we face a choice: how we choose to proceed. The path is never linear, and there will always be daunting uphill battles, but just starting is the most important step, which Smith explores in his chorus.

Chorus: Hesitancy

Smith’s powerful chorus goes as follows:

And I’m gonna pray (Lord)
Pray (Lord), maybe I’ll pray
Pray for a glimmer of hope
Maybe I’ll pray (Lord), pray (Lord), maybe I’ll pray
I’ve never believed in you, no, but I’m gonna

The key word in this chorus is “maybe.” This word conveys uncertainty and vulnerability—even when someone sees that the “world is on fire,” there is still a sense of doubt that comes with prayer, almost a deep-seated fear that our hopes won’t come true. I think this hesitancy needs to be embraced more. As I’ve said many times before, having a strong sense of spirit is crucial, but your spirit can’t always remain resilient as you navigate life’s challenges and witness the world’s struggles. This hesitation toward prayer—whether to God, a deity, the earth, or something unknown—is normal and happens from time to time. However, it’s in these moments of doubt that growth is possible. When we wrestle with our uncertainty, we often find clarity, strength, or even a deeper connection to whatever it is we’re reaching out to. This struggle is part of the journey toward inner peace and spiritual grounding.

Verse 2: Organized Religion vs Spirituality

The second verse is arguably the most intense part of the song, from the introduction of the gospel choir to the mention of still being a disciple. The lyrics go:

You won’t find me in church (no), reading the Bible (no)
I am still here, and I’m still your disciple
I’m down on my knees, I’m beggin’ you, please
I’m broken, alone, and afraid

I’m not a saint, I’m more of a sinner
I don’t wanna lose, but I fear for the winners
When I tried to explain, the words ran away
That’s why I am stood here today

This verse emphasizes the deep internal conflict many people face when they seek a connection to something higher, but not through traditional avenues like organized religion. Smith expresses a profound sense of spiritual vulnerability, admitting that while he doesn’t conform to religious rituals, he still feels a strong desire for spiritual guidance. The lines “I’m still your disciple” and “I’m broken, alone, and afraid” reflect the raw longing for spiritual support in the absence of formal religion. It highlights that the need for faith or belief doesn’t always fit within the boundaries of religious institutions, yet the ache for something greater remains, especially during moments of desperation and personal crisis.

This part of the song makes it clear to me that we need to learn how to balance rejecting organized religion while still nurturing our spirit. Organized religion, though it has its meaningful experiences and moments of genuine community, has historically fostered manipulative, misogynistic, sexist, homophobic, and xenophobic behaviors, among other harmful ideologies. It’s understandable that, over time, more and more people have chosen to distance themselves from it. The institutionalized aspect of religion often feels rigid and oppressive, making spirituality seem inaccessible to those who cannot align with these strict doctrines. However, there’s a difficult void that forms when people move away from it—organized religion has monopolized the idea of spirituality for so long that breaking away can feel like a loss of spiritual identity. The line “I’m broken, alone, and afraid” perfectly encapsulates this feeling, as people who leave organized religion often feel isolated, uncertain of where to turn to nurture their spiritual self. This is a common but deeply personal struggle for many.

Furthermore, Smith sings, “I don’t wanna lose, but I fear for the winners.” This line can be interpreted in various ways, but in one sense, it paints the “losers” as those who don’t partake in religion and the “winners” as those who do. There’s an internal tug-of-war here—a fear of being left out of the profound community and comfort that religion often provides. For those who have grown up in religious environments or watched others find peace through religion, there can be a sense of envy or longing for that kind of unshakable faith. It’s natural to fear missing out on the structured guidance, the communal strength, and the certainty that organized religion can offer. Yet, there’s also a fear of winning. If you conform to a faith that doesn’t align with your authentic self, what might you lose?

Smith touches on this deeply when he hints at the consequences of being part of organized religion. What if your faith pulls you away from the people you love? What if it forces you to face painful truths you’ve hidden? Or, perhaps worst of all, what if you build your life around a belief that turns out to be “wrong”? These are existential fears that come with both accepting and rejecting organized religion, underscoring the complex and uncertain relationship many have with faith. It also brings us back to the theme of hesitation Smith expresses in his chorus—the uncertainty of belief is universal, and it plays a role in the push and pull many feel toward spirituality.

Bridge: Independence, Solace, and Free Will

Lastly, the climax of the song is Smith’s bridge, where he’s essentially begging for connection. It goes as follows:

Won’t you call me?
Can we have a one-on-one, please?
Let’s talk about freedom
Everyone prays in the end
Everyone prays in the end

Oh, won’t you call me?
Can we have a one-on-one, please?
Let’s talk about freedom
Everyone prays in the end
Everyone prays in the end

This bridge touches on many significant themes, but most importantly, it emphasizes the independence of prayer and the liberating idea of freedom. Firstly, although prayer can be both a personal and collective experience, there’s a unique solitude that comes from praying alone. This solitude provides a deep sense of peace, something that’s often overlooked. It’s not necessarily the outcome of the prayer that offers this comfort but the act itself—the intimate moment where you connect with something larger than yourself, free from the judgment or expectations of others. This internal solace can guide you closer to your spirit, helping you strengthen your relationship with the action of prayer rather than focusing solely on its results.

Secondly, Smith sings, “let’s talk about freedom”—and yes, let’s dive into that. Free will is a weighty philosophical conversation that often arises when discussing the existence of evil in the world. Questions like, “If God is omnipresent and omnipotent, why have atrocities like slavery or the Holocaust happened?” bring this issue to light. By adding this line in the bridge, Smith highlights once again the doubt and hesitation that come with prayer and organized religion as a whole. It’s a subtle yet powerful reminder of the internal conflict that often surfaces when faith is questioned. This is definitely a broader conversation that requires time and depth, but it’s crucial that he brings it up here because it acknowledges the difficult and often unresolved tensions between belief, free will, and the existence of suffering. It serves as a reminder that even in prayer, we are often seeking answers to questions we may never fully understand.

Conclusion

Sam Smith’s lyrics about turning to prayer resonate deeply because they reflect a universal experience. In moments of helplessness or powerlessness, many of us find solace in the simple act of stopping, reflecting, and reaching out for something greater than ourselves. There’s often that fleeting but powerful thought: “Maybe I’ll pray.”

But what is prayer? It looks different for everyone. For some, it’s traditional—reciting a verse from the Bible, repeating sacred words from religious texts, or attending a place of worship. For others, it may be more personal, like sitting in silence, meditating, or taking time to reconnect with nature. Prayer is not limited to any one definition. While its origins are often religious, it extends beyond that into a universal need to express hope, longing, and the search for peace or answers.

In a secular sense, prayer becomes a moment where we channel our deepest desires—whether for guidance, strength, or comfort. It’s an earnest expression of hope, whether directed toward a higher power, the universe, or simply to our own inner strength. Some might pray to Allah, some may seek guidance from their ancestors, and others may send their wishes into the unknown. Below is a chart outlining various forms of prayer. While not exhaustive, it serves as a starting point for understanding the different ways we can approach prayer.

What remains constant is that, regardless of who or what we turn to, we all search for something outside of ourselves. In doing so, we hope to strengthen the things within ourselves—our resilience, our ability to cope, and our faith that things can and will improve. It’s this universal act of seeking that connects us, and Smith’s “Pray” beautifully captures this shared human experience.