Jesus Drawing Us Strongly to Prayer

Divine Appeal Reflection - 148

Today, consider in Divine Appeal 148: "I will always draw you strongly to prayer. This will cause you many tears and humiliations. You will have to follow My painful path for the good of souls."

One of the deepest mysteries hidden in this appeal is that God often draws a soul to prayer long before He entrusts it with His greatest works. Jesus does not merely command us to pray; He promises, "I will always draw you strongly to prayer." These words reveal that authentic prayer begins not with human effort but with divine attraction. Before a soul seeks God, (cf. Jer 31:3; Jn 6:44; CCC 2567) God has already begun seeking that soul with infinite tenderness . The Father quietly rearranges circumstances, disappointments, unexpected joys, unanswered questions, hidden sufferings, and even apparent failures so that the heart gradually discovers that only He can satisfy its deepest hunger . Prayer is therefore less a human achievement than a response to being lovingly pursued by Christ. Scripture repeatedly unveils this divine strategy. Baruch, Jeremiah's faithful companion, lamented that his life seemed filled with sorrow and disappointment. Yet God called him not to seek greatness, (cf. Jer 45:1–5) but to remain faithful in the mission entrusted to him . Every dream of recognition seemed to disappear. Yet instead of restoring his earthly ambitions, God gently invited him to surrender them completely, teaching him that intimacy with God was a far greater gift than worldly success . Likewise, Anna the prophetess (cf. Lk 2:36-38) spent decades in hidden prayer after the heartbreak of widowhood. Scripture records neither visions nor extraordinary miracles during those long years. Yet those silent decades prepared her eyes to recognize the Infant Messiah while priests, scholars, and political leaders passed Him without understanding who He was . Her contemplation became the fruit of perseverance rather than extraordinary experiences. Joseph of Arimathea likewise remained hidden for years, quietly cultivating interior fidelity until the darkest day in history demanded courageous love. When nearly everyone fled Calvary, (cf. Jn 19:38-42) the man who had first learned silence before God became bold before Pilate . Prayer had slowly formed a courage that public activity alone could never produce.

This attraction continues quietly in ordinary lives. A surgeon who can no longer carry the weight of failure finds himself praying in an empty chapel for the first time in years (cf. Ps 34:18). A grandmother gradually forgets names, yet the Rosary remains alive within her heart, revealing that grace reaches deeper than memory (cf. Rom 8:26–27). A respected lecturer discovers that success cannot satisfy the soul and lingers silently before the tabernacle . A fisherman, after months of failed harvests, learns to entrust tomorrow to God's providence instead of despair (cf. Mt 6:31–34). These are not coincidences but quiet invitations of Christ, gently drawing hearts back to Himself .They are the gentle fingerprints of grace. Jesus often draws us through what the world calls interruption, (cf. Rom 8:28; CCC 2560) while heaven calls it invitation .Blessed Maria Candida of the Eucharist taught that prolonged Eucharistic silence slowly teaches the soul to hear God's voice beneath ordinary life rather than only within extraordinary moments. This is the meaning of Christ's promise. He will always draw the soul—not by force but by love, not by spectacle but by quiet attraction, until prayer ceases to be something we do and becomes the very atmosphere in which we live .

Jesus immediately adds a surprising consequence to this attraction: "This will cause you many tears."  These tears are not signs of emotional fragility but evidence that the Holy Spirit is softening what years of self-protection have hardened . Before authentic prayer, many people cry because life hurts them. After entering deeply into prayer, they begin to cry because they have started seeing with the Heart of Christ. Prayer changes not only what we ask from God but what we are capable of feeling before Him.The Bible reveals remarkable examples of these hidden tears. Tobit, (cf. Tob 3:1-6; 11:7-15) blinded and humiliated, reached a point where he no longer understood God's providence. Yet his suffering became the very place where heaven quietly prepared healing, not only for his eyes but for his entire family . His tears purified hope. Epaphras, (cf. Col 4:12-13) almost unnoticed in the New Testament, is remembered because he wrestled continuously in prayer for believers he loved, carrying entire Christian communities within his heart before God . His ministry was largely invisible, yet heaven measured it as immense. Even Queen Esther, (cf. Est 4:15-17) before entering the king's presence to save her people, first entered the hidden sanctuary of fasting, tears, and surrender, recognizing that no human influence could replace dependence upon God .  These tears appear quietly in modern life. A father kneels beside the empty bedroom of a son imprisoned because of drugs. For years he tried advice, anger, financial help, and persuasion. Now words have ended. Only tears remain. Unknown to him, those silent nights become his greatest apostolate before God. A parish priest finishes celebrating Sunday Mass surrounded by smiling parishioners, yet later remains alone before the tabernacle, weeping because he knows many receive Holy Communion without recognizing the immeasurable Gift before them . A young woman who once dreamed of marriage quietly accepts that God may be calling her to another path. Her tears are not rebellion but the painful surrender of beautiful dreams into wiser Hands. A hospice volunteer holds the trembling hand of a dying stranger whose family never comes. Driving home, she cannot stop weeping—not from despair but because she has encountered Christ hidden within human loneliness . These tears are deeply Eucharistic. They teach the soul to love without demanding visible success. Such tears do not weaken the Christian. They reveal that Christ has begun sharing His own Heart. Every tear offered in loving prayer becomes, through grace, a hidden drop in the river of mercy flowing from Calvary into a wounded world .

Perhaps the most difficult words in this appeal are not the tears but the humiliations. Jesus does not say they may come; He says that being drawn deeply into prayer will cause them. This reveals one of the hidden laws of the spiritual life: the closer a soul comes to God, the less it is allowed to build its identity upon itself . Prayer gradually uncovers the subtle pride that ordinary activity often conceals. A person may appear generous, faithful, or holy before others while secretly depending upon admiration, success, efficiency, or the opinion of others. The light of contemplative prayer exposes these hidden attachments, not to discourage the soul but to free it for pure love . God's greatest obstacle is rarely great sin in advanced souls; it is the quiet desire to remain important. Scripture reveals this mysterious purification. Gideon was called while hiding in fear, and even after receiving God's promise, the Lord reduced his army from thousands to only three hundred men so that the victory would reveal divine power rather than human strength (cf. Judg 6:11–16; 7:1–8). Humanly speaking, this appeared humiliating and irrational. Yet God wished Israel to know that victory belonged entirely to Him rather than to human strength . Likewise, Naaman, commander of the Syrian army,  (cf. 2 Kgs 5:9-14) expected an extraordinary miracle worthy of his dignity. Instead, God healed him through the humiliating simplicity of washing repeatedly in the Jordan . The greatest obstacle was not the river but his pride. Even the Canaanite woman, though apparently ignored and tested by Jesus, (cf. Mt 15:21-28) persevered in humble faith until her trust was publicly praised before all . Heaven often permits humiliations because humility can receive graces that pride cannot even recognize . These hidden trials unfold in ordinary life. A gifted preacher sees little visible fruit from years of faithful preaching (cf. Is 55:10–11). A mother sacrifices daily for her family yet is often misunderstood by those she loves most . A businessman loses an important contract because he refuses corruption (cf. Prov 10:9). A student who defends the dignity of human life becomes the object of ridicule (cf. Mt 5:11–12). Yet none of these humiliations are signs of God's absence. Rather, they are often the quiet path by which Christ purifies love, deepens trust, and conforms the soul to His own humble Heart (cf. Phil 2:5–8; Rom 8:29; CCC 520). Rather, Christ is quietly removing the need to be applauded so that love itself becomes the reward .  Every humiliation accepted with charity loosens another chain binding the heart to self-love. Slowly the soul becomes free—not because people finally appreciate it, but because it no longer needs to be appreciated to love. Such a soul has begun sharing the humility of the Crucified One .

One of the greatest paradoxes of this appeal is that the tears and humiliations born from prayer never remain merely personal. Christ transforms them into channels of grace for countless souls. The contemplative life is therefore never self-enclosed. Hidden union with Jesus quietly overflows into the salvation of others, often without the person ever knowing whom they have helped . The soul drawn into prayer gradually begins carrying the burdens of strangers with the tenderness of Christ Himself. This mystery appears beautifully in Scripture through Moses after Israel worshipped the golden calf. Rather than separating himself from a sinful people, (cf. Ex 32:30-32) he entered profound intercession, pleading before God even at the cost of his own destiny . Likewise, Queen Esther (cf. Est 5:1-2) accepted the humiliation of risking rejection before the king because she loved a people who might never know the price of her courage . Their hidden suffering became the doorway through which mercy reached multitudes. Prayer had enlarged their hearts beyond themselves. This same mystery unfolds quietly today. A retired teacher offers every painful medical treatment for young people who have abandoned the faith, though she will never know their names. A cloistered nun faithfully rises each night for the Divine Office while wars rage across the world; unseen by history, her intercession strengthens missionaries, protects struggling families, and obtains conversions known only to God. A mechanic quietly offers each day of exhausting labour for seminarians who feel discouraged. A teenager patiently caring for a disabled sibling becomes an unseen missionary of Christ's compassion within the walls of an ordinary home. These hidden offerings seem insignificant to the world, yet heaven measures them differently .  Jesus therefore teaches that tears shed in prayer and humiliations accepted with love become seeds planted in the Heart of God. Long after the tears have dried, their fruits continue appearing in conversions, reconciled families, renewed vocations, strengthened priests, and souls preserved from despair. Contemplation quietly becomes mission .

The final fruit of this appeal is astonishing. Jesus does not draw souls into prayer simply to make them holier; He draws them so that they may become His hidden Heart beating within the Church and the world. The contemplative soul gradually begins to see as Christ sees, love as Christ loves, forgive as Christ forgives, and hope as Christ hopes . Prayer slowly ceases to be an activity and becomes a new way of existing. The soul no longer asks merely, "Lord, help me," but, "Lord, let my life become available for whatever consoles Your Heart and saves souls." This spirit is seen in  Nehemiah, whose heart was broken by the ruin of Jerusalem before he was sent to rebuild it (cf. Neh 1:3–11; 2:1–8). It is fulfilled in Epaphroditus, who nearly died while serving Christ and His Church without seeking recognition (cf. Phil 2:25–30). Such souls no longer live for themselves but become quiet co-workers in Christ's redeeming love, carrying His concerns before the Father for the good of many (cf. Rom 14:7–8; 2 Cor 5:14–15; CCC 2634). Their contemplative lives made them spiritually perceptive. Prayer had purified their vision. The world often celebrates those who change history publicly, yet heaven treasures those whose hidden fidelity prepares history for God's action. Today this hidden vocation continues everywhere. A parish sacristan who lovingly prepares the altar before dawn may deepen the reverence of an entire congregation without ever speaking a word . A prisoner who sincerely repents and offers each lonely day for victims of violence mysteriously shares in Christ's work of reconciliation, allowing grace to reach hearts far beyond the prison walls . An elderly man forgotten in a nursing home becomes spiritually fruitful by offering each hour for families breaking apart. These people may never appear in books or headlines, yet they become hidden pillars supporting the Church through grace rather than recognition (cf. 1 Cor 12:22-26).  The tears and humiliations are not the destination but the path. They gradually empty the soul of self until Christ alone remains. This is the highest fruit of contemplation: not extraordinary experiences, but an ordinary life so transformed by grace that Christ quietly continues His saving work through it until the end of time 

Prayer 

Our Adorable Jesus, continue drawing us into the prayer that purifies through tears and perfects through humiliations. Empty us of pride until Your Heart alone lives within us. May every hidden sacrifice console You, strengthen Your Church, and obtain mercy for countless souls. Amen.

Sr. Anna Ali of the Most Holy Eucharist, intercede for us.