They devoted themselves to prayer: entering the mind and heart of God

Q: Archbishop J, why the devotion to prayer?

“They devoted themselves … to prayer” (Acts 2:42). To be devoted to prayer is not one dimension of discipleship. It is its heart—its hidden engine, its inner fire. Everything in the life of the disciple flows from this because to be devoted to prayer is to be devoted to union with Christ.

The word devoted means ‘to dedicate by a vow’ or ‘to sacrifice oneself’; the four devotions flow from the encounter with the risen Christ. The encounter has no other response than devotion, a commitment born out of love and response for what God has done for us in Christ. This is the foundation for prayer.

Prayer is not changing God—it is entering God

Many of us begin prayer with a subtle misunderstanding. We imagine we are trying to change God’s mind—to persuade Him, convince Him to act, according to what we believe is needed. But the truth is deeper: Prayer is not about changing the mind of God. It is about entering into the mind of God.

Prayer is not persuasion. It is participation. From within this relationship with the Holy Trinity, we pray to the Father, who is always disposed favourably to His children. This is not manipulation but relationship.

It is the quiet work by which our thoughts, desires, and instincts are slowly aligned with God’s will—until His will is no longer external to us but lived within us. Prayer in the name of Jesus is prayer in relationship with and in union with Christ.

This is why St Paul can say, “Pray without ceasing” (1 Thess 5:17). Prayer is not merely something we do. It becomes a way of being. And when words fail—when we do not know how to pray—the Spirit prays within us, crying out: Abba, Father. Before we even begin, prayer has already begun in us.

The illusion that blocks encounter

Yet there is a deeper obstacle in prayer—one that often goes unnoticed. We do not always encounter God as Other. Instead, we engage our ideas about God, our expectations, our projections. And so, even in prayer, something subtle happens: We are not always speaking to God. We are often speaking to ourselves.

Without true encounter, prayer remains safe—but it does not transform. And if God cannot be truly Other for us, then neither can our neighbour. This is why discipleship collapses so easily into self-effort.

But the foundation of prayer is this: God is real. God speaks. God acts. And prayer is where we encounter Him.

“God is looking at me”

St Ignatius offers a simple correction. Before you begin to pray, pause. And become aware: God is looking at me. Not an idea. Not an abstraction. God—present, attentive, loving. That awareness alone changes everything. Prayer becomes response, relationship, encounter with a living God.

“Lord, teach us to pray”

The disciples watched Jesus withdraw into prayer and return with clarity, authority, and peace. And so they asked: “Lord, teach us to pray.” Jesus responds not with a technique, but with a way of life: “Our Father …”

Awe and intimacy

“Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name.” Prayer begins in truth: God is holy—beyond all measure. And yet we are invited to call Him Father. Prayer, in this way, holds together what must never be separated: awe and intimacy. Without awe, prayer becomes casual. Without intimacy, prayer becomes distant. True prayer bows—and draws near.

The turning point: surrender

“Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done.” Here is the turning point of prayer. Not my will. But Yours. This is not conjecture; It is the prayer of Christ in Gethsemane. Every true prayer leads us to that place where surrender becomes the doorway to life. We bring our fears, our plans, our desires. And in prayer, they are purified, until we begin to desire what God desires—and trust His will as the path to life. For me, this is the heart of prayer: “Bend my heart to your will, oh Lord!”

The bread that sustains

“Give us this day our daily bread.” The Church has always heard in this more than physical bread. It points us to the Bread of Life—the Eucharist. The actual term is “daily and every day”—supersubstantial bread. Here we discover something profound: The Eucharist sustains prayer. And prayer opens us to the Eucharist. In receiving Christ, we are quietly formed into people of communion. We become what we eat.

A heart transformed: mercy

“Forgive us our trespasses…” When prayer is real, it produces three movements of the heart:

• Contrition—We see ourselves truthfully in our sin sickness before God.
• Gratitude—We recognise we are forgiven by mercy, not merited.
• Compassion—We begin to forgive others.

In short, prayer softens the heart. It enlarges it. We become what we receive.

The growth of prayer

Prayer is not static; it grows. St Teresa of Avila compares the soul to a garden. At first, we draw water from a well with a bucket—effort, discipline, struggle. Then a waterwheel supplies the water—less effort, more flow. Then the garden is irrigated by a river—receptivity. And finally, rain—God Himself waters the soul.

Prayer moves from our effort to God’s gift. But even our effort is a response to grace. The lesson is simple: Do not give up. God is at work, even when we do not see it.

When prayer becomes dark

There are moments when prayer becomes dry—silent, even empty. Many disciples know this experience. What once felt alive suddenly feels absent. But this is not failure but an invitation. In those moments, the call is simple: remain. Faithfulness in darkness deepens the soul in ways consolation never can. God is not absent. He is working at a deeper level.

A rhythm of prayer for our time

Prayer must take shape in rhythm: not occasional, but faithful. There are many ways to pray. What matters is returning, again and again. Within that rhythm, three pathways are especially powerful today:

Eucharistic Adoration—To sit before Christ, truly present, and allow relationship to grow.

Christian Meditation—To enter stillness, repeating a sacred word—Maranatha—allowing the heart to become receptive.

The Examen (Ignatian Prayer)—A daily review of life: gratitude, awareness, repentance, and response.

Together, they form a living rhythm: Encounter. Receptivity. Integration—each taking you deeper into the relationship.

The true measure of prayer

There is a danger in the spiritual life. We can begin to measure discipleship by external signs—how much we pray, how religious we appear. But this is not the true measure. The real test is this: Do we grow in contrition? In gratitude? In compassion? If prayer is real, these will become evident.

From prayer to mercy

Prayer does not end in itself. It becomes mercy. A heart that has encountered God becomes a heart that gives. This is why prayer and love of neighbour can never be separated. To pray deeply is to love concretely.

The final end of prayer

And so we return to where we began. Prayer does not bend God towards our will. It draws us into His will to co-create with Him: until our hearts begin to beat with His heart, until our lives reflect His mercy. And when that happens, something changes: the disciple no longer simply prays. The disciple becomes a living prayer in the world.

Key Message:

Prayer does not change God’s mind—it transforms our hearts until we live His mercy in the world.

Action Step:

Tonight, pause. Stand still. Become aware: God is already present. Already looking at you. Already loving you. Begin there.

Scripture for Reflection:

Matt 6:9–13