So often we think of prayer as checking a box before bed.

But as Robert Spitzer explains in Our Souls Upward Yearning, something much deeper is going on. We are transcendent beings. We are made to yearn upward. Our souls are wired for more than the material, more than the here and now. Prayer is not something we add to life, it is our natural movement toward God and His movement toward us. Every word, every silent breath, every small turn of the heart toward gratitude is a step toward the horizon we were made for.

John of Damascus said it simply: prayer is the raising of one’s heart and mind to God. And as Robert Barron often reminds us, God is not distant, waiting for us to reach up to Him. He is already near, waiting to dwell within us. The problem is not His distance. It is our clutter. Our hearts are crowded with attachments, distractions, noise, constant clicks and swipes. There is very little space for Him to land. Because of that, our prayer life often never matures. We pray the way we did as children, quick words at the end of the day, checking the box before we fall asleep. But Teresa of Ávila gives us a better image. Prayer is an intimate sharing between friends. No perfection needed, just presence. And like any real friendship, that conversation has a rhythm. It requires honesty. Bring everything, your gratitude, your frustration, even your anger. It requires listening, because if all we do is talk, we are not really in relationship. And it requires silence, the kind of stillness where we allow God to speak.

Mother Angelica, a nun who under complete unlikelihood created the largest Catholic TV Station in the world, EWTN said their are four degrees of prayer:

The Prayer of Strength: It comes when you realize God is your Father and you’ve got this emptiness in your heart. You have sin, anxieties, frustrations and you have nowhere to go with them. The thirst for God, gives you a desire for repentance which enables you to “open the door” to Christ. Then comes the Prayer of Heart

The Prayer of Heart: Looks at God with a humble heart saying, “Lord I leave everything to your will.” This demonstrates a commitment to the Christian life.

The Prayer of the Mind: This is where you begin to examine yourself deeply. Dryness of faith can step in here. An empty feeling or a sense that God is far away. This is actually a good sign, as it is a purification of sorts to a higher, deeper level of prayer. It helps rid ourselves of the clutter.

The Prayer of the Soul: When you feel a deep Prescence of God. a deep sense of love. You begin to sense God in your neighbor, in the people that we briefly come in contact with. This is the highest form of prayer, because it is unceasing, it builds on itself.

A simple place to begin is gratitude. When we start prayer with thankfulness, something shifts. Our hearts open. We begin to notice what we usually overlook, family, friendship, even the challenges that shape us, and the quiet beauty that points back to God’s goodness. Gratitude tunes the heart, like an instrument brought into harmony, ready to receive. But prayer is not always about speaking. Sometimes the deepest prayer is silence. In that quiet, we stop filling the space and allow God to fill it. Sometimes raising your heart means letting your words fall away so His presence can take their place.

If you struggle to enter into prayer, start with your surroundings. Step outside. Early morning light, still water, even a quiet back porch in the evening. In those moments, God’s presence becomes easier to notice. Then try something simple but powerful: place yourself in a scene with Jesus. Not far away, not abstract, but truly there. Maybe it’s a quiet shoreline, the sound of water gently moving. Maybe it’s a campfire at night, the others gathered have drifted off and the conversation has slowed. Sit with Him there. What would you say? What might He say to you? Or step into a moment from the Gospels, just after the miracle, just after the teaching, when the crowd has gone. Stay there. Let it unfold. Let it speak.

Even the car can become a chapel. In its quiet, removed from distractions, it can be a place to meet God. It is a perfect setting for something steady and rhythmic like the Rosary, where your mind can settle and your heart can slowly turn toward Him. Sometimes our prayers feel small, like they do not go anywhere. But think of the incense at Mass. The priest lifts it, and it rises toward heaven, carrying the prayers of the people with it. Psalm 141 says, “Let my prayer rise before you like incense.” That is what is happening every time you pray. Even when your heart feels distracted. Even when your words feel inadequate. Even when it is just a quiet longing. Your soul is still rising toward God. Your prayer is still being received. Heaven is still drawing near. And you can see it even in ordinary life. The steam rising from your coffee in the morning. The mist over trees or water at dawn. Let it remind you of the prayers of the faithful rising all over the world. Let it strengthen you.

That small gesture, a simple “thank you,” a quiet “Lord, help me today,” that is your soul rising toward God. Ordinary moments become sacred. Quiet moments become eternal. That is the mystery and the hope of prayer. It does not have to feel dramatic to be powerful. It does not have to be perfect to matter. It is already participating in something eternal. That realization can be strengthening as a reminder to ourselves that we are part of the mystical body of the Church allows us to realize in prayer, that we are interconnected, that will pray along with those sitting in a chapel across the world, or in a hospital with a loved one, or even from ancient times long ago.


Prayer is also where we learn to rely on God. Ask Him for help, specifically and honestly. Ask Him now for the moments you know are coming later. It is amazing how often that simple act opens the door for grace when you need it most, especially in moments of temptation or struggle. So here is the invitation. Find your moment. Speak honestly. Sit in silence. Give thanks. Listen. Let your soul stretch upward. And in that quiet yearning, you begin to discover something beautiful: God is closer than you think, and your soul was made to reach for Him.

Prayer is the best weapon we have, it is the key to God’s heart

St. Padre Pio