Fervor in Prayer

During the height of COVID, I was awakened around midnight with an urgent feeling about my sister. I sensed she was in trouble — in a sickly way. And during that time, COVID illness was deadly. The fear of it was everywhere.

My first instinct was to reach for my phone and text her. But it was late, and something held me back. Instead I went into fervent prayer with my Rosary. I sat silently in the dark in my room, praying and asking Mary to intercede. I didn't stop until I felt a peace settle over me — a sense that my prayer had been received.

Weeks later my sister shared with me that during that time she had thought she was going to die. She told her husband that if she went to the hospital, to just call her sister. When she told me this, I told her about my midnight awakening and my prayers that night. We were both so grateful. God had interceded. Mary had interceded. Something real had happened in that dark room when I chose prayer over a text message.

That night taught me something about prayer I hadn't fully understood before. Fervor isn't a style. It isn't something you decide to bring to your prayer practice. It arrives — when God wakes you and the urgency is already there — and then it's up to you to respond.

What Fervor in Prayer Really Means

Prayer is the lifeline of our spiritual journey. Fervor in prayer stands out as a passionate and intense devotion — our most direct connection with the Divine. It has always intrigued me, the prayer Jesus made at the rock in the garden: "Let Your will be done, not mine." That is fervor. Not asking for what we want. Surrendering completely to what God wants — even when what He wants is the cross.

Being passionate about our prayers is what makes them personal with God. And prayer is vital. I told a story about my climb up Cross Mountain in Medjugorje. In that story it's important not to become complacent with God. Yes, He is with us all the time — but He doesn't want to be ignored. Fervor is the opposite of complacency. It is showing up with your whole self.

We can draw a great deal of strength through meditation and contemplation of the Sorrowful Mysteries — especially the Agony in the Garden. Let's try to pray with the same intensity that Jesus did. I know I can learn a lot from that scene. I want what He has — to love God so deeply that prayer becomes not a duty but a longing.

I recently came across the writings of Luisa Piccarreta on the Hours of the Passion and Divine Will. So far I have only been able to read the first two of the hours dedicated to Jesus in the garden — three hours in total. In those pages I learned that during those three hours, Jesus was taking on the sins of the past, the present, and the future. All of them. At once. In that garden.

Rocks, for me, signify challenges and struggles — but also being grounded and firm. That is what fervor in prayer does. It grounds you when the ground is shaking. It keeps you anchored to God when everything else is uncertain.

My Practices of Fervor in Prayer

We must be intentional in our prayer practices. Having a place to go that no one else can hear you speaking with God is important — your own little corner that is comfortable. For me it's the same place I go when I am in silent meditation. Meditation and silent prayer are just as important as having words to recite, like the Our Father, the Glory Be, or the Hail Mary.

I don't think there is any set way of praying, as long as you are speaking with God — having an intimate conversation with our Father. What we ask for matters in our spiritual growth. An author once wrote that God is not Santa Claus. I think about that often.

I say my prayers mostly at night, thanking Him for my day and then speaking about what may be on my heart. Sometimes I just hold the Rosary in my hand and think about Jesus and the Mysteries. Or maybe a specific moment of Scripture. I pray in my car many times going to work and coming home. Sometimes just at my desk. Prayer doesn't require a special place — it requires a willing heart.

What Gets in the Way — and What Comes Through

Spiritual dryness is real, and I can say I don't like it. There are seasons when prayer feels hollow, when God seems far, when the words don't come. This is where I lean hard into the quiet presence of meditation and wait with a trusting heart. The reward that eventually comes — a deep, intimate relationship with God, the experience of His love and guidance — is worth the waiting. But the waiting is hard.

This world is full of distractions. I'll be honest — a lot of times in church there is just too much talking. I go early to have a moment to prepare myself to receive God, to remove myself from the world and its chatter. That is a challenge for me. Through time in prayer, despite the noise, we will receive peace.

Sometimes, in the space between sleep and waking, I can hear myself praying the Hail Marys. I feel the words moving through me before I am fully awake. It is as though my soul continues the prayer while the rest of me rests.

This doesn't happen all the time — occasionally, now. But when it does, I take it as a reminder that fervor in prayer is not only something we bring to God. It is something He cultivates in us, slowly, over years — until the prayer becomes part of who we are even in sleep.

Carry this virtue into the Mysteries and let Christ's own prayer in the garden deepen what you have found here.