Saint Porfyrios

I often observe my child, the souls here from my poor cell, how they struggle and are tortured. I see them like little birds caught in invisible nets, flapping their wings in vain. And what is this net? It is the rules, the musts, the hows, and the whys. They count the knots on the prayer rope as if they were counting the steps that separate them from God. They recite the psalms as if they were reading a list of obligations that they must fulfill to earn his favor. They struggle to get up in the morning, they struggle with the heat in the evening, and at the end of the day, they do not know the peace of Christ's presence. They feel only the bitter taste of failure, their own failure. And I see their hearts drying up, love becoming a habit and a habit. Weight. Let me tell you something. In this observation, in this anguish that I see on their faces, the same great, the same sweet secret is revealed to me every time. People are trying to build a bridge to God, while He is already standing next to them and extending His hand to them. Christ does not ask for bridges. He asks that we give Him our own hand. It is so similar to what you were telling me a moment ago here. In the semi-darkness that smells of incense and humble candles. You told me the story of your fatigue. How the rosary became a pencil in your fingers. How many prayers in the book became foreign words in your mouth? How silence, instead of filling you with God, fills you with guilt. And I see in your eyes, behind the tears, that you are trying to hide the fear. The fear that God doesn't hear you, that He has abandoned you because you are not doing things right, because you are not a good soldier of His. You ask me with anguish. Elder, how will I manage? How will I learn to pray correctly? Don't be upset, my love. Come closer. Listen. There is nothing to accomplish and no lesson to learn. It is the simplest thing in the world. The most natural. You have forgotten it. That is all. Your little soul has forgotten it. Tired of the noise of rules. You ask me how you will transform your life into continuous prayer without rules. But the question is wrong, my child. It is like asking how you will make your heart beat or how you will order your lungs to breathe. You do not do the prayer. You do not construct it with effort and techniques. You let it happen. Prayer is not an act that you perform. It is a state in which you live. It is not something you say to God, but the air you breathe in his presence. And this presence is not earned with rules. It is not measured with clocks. It is not imposed by force of will. It is born effortlessly, like a flower that blooms in the soil of the heart, when it is watered with only one thing: love, the delicate, discreet, tender love for our Christ. This is the only key. All the others are locks that we put on the door of our heart ourselves. So now we will talk about this love. Not about rules, but about the love that abolishes all rules and becomes the only rule. My child, I often observe the souls here from my poor cell, how they struggle and are tortured. I see them like little birds caught in invisible nets, flapping their wings in vain . And what is the net, the thought that they must earn God's love with their rules, prayers, and achievements. They think that prayer is a list of musts that if they do not fulfill, Christ will turn his back on them. My children, how much error and how much pain is hidden here. I remember how many years ago a good soul came here. A devout woman with her face torn from anguish. As soon as she sat down on the stool, she began to cry profusely. "Elder," she tells me in her sleep. "I'm lost. I can't keep up with my rule. I have children, a husband, a house, and a job. By nightfall, I'm a rag. I try to stand up for the greetings, for the vigil, for my rosary, but my eyes close. I sleep standing up, and I feel so guilty. I feel like I'm betraying Christ, that I don't love Him enough. Prayer, which was once a joy, has become my greatest burden, a daily chore. And here's what's important for you to understand. I looked at her with love and said, "My child, who put this burden on you, Christ or your thinking? Do you see that little flower on your flowerpot on the windowsill? You see how it is turned towards the sunlight. Does anyone order it? Does anyone make it a rule to turn three times to the right and five to the left? No. This, simply by its nature, by its very existence, seeks the sun that gives it life. It does not try to turn; it simply turns. So too the soul, prayer, my child, is not the words you will say or the number of penances you will make. Prayer is the turning of the heart towards God. It is this inner movement, this longing of the soul for its creator, like the flower for the sun. Do not torture yourself with rules that you cannot keep. Christ is not an accountant to count things; Lord, have mercy. He is a father who longs for the love of his child. When you cook for your family, this is not prayer. Do it with love and say within yourself, my Christ, for your own glory I do this. When you go to work, and you get tired, say, My God, give me strength. When you see your children playing and your soul rejoices, say, Glory to God for this gift. When you drink a glass of cool water, thank the one who gave it to you. This is the unceasing prayer. Connect your every action, your every thought, your every breath with Christ, make him a participant in your life. The rule is a step, not a prison. It is an aid for the soul to learn to fly. But when your wings are tired, do not try to jump off the step. Simply sit where you are and look with love towards the sky. A single sigh of the heart. "My Christ, I love you," that comes out of your fatigue and weakness, is worth more than thousands of formal prayers that are said out of habit or fear. God does not want slaves who carry out orders. He wants children who love him freely. So leave the burdens and the precepts. Keep only this love, and you will see how your whole life will slowly, without realizing it, become a continuous sweet conversation with him. Many people think, my child, that prayer is a list of rules and obligations. They think that God expects us to stand for hours. To read specific psalms and services, and if we omit something, he gets disappointed or angry. However, this thought turns our relationship with Christ into a cold change in constant struggle to win his favor, full of anxiety and guilt. But the truth is very different. Christ, my brothers, is not an accountant who keeps track of our prayers and repentances. He is the bridegroom of the soul, the father, the loving one. Souls come here and ask me with anguish. Father, I have lost my rule. I did not pray this morning. What should I do I feel that God has abandoned me. And I answer them. And God, my child, has been waiting for you all day to tell him at least one good morning. True prayer is not the words that come from the lips, but the cry that comes from the heart. Imagine a little child who wants to talk to his father. He goes with formal words and reads from a book to ask him for something or to tell him how much he loves him. Of course not. he runs into his arms, mumbles his words, sometimes he cries, sometimes he laughs, and shows him his drawing or his wounded knee. And the father rejoices not for the child's eloquence, but for his trust, for the love that makes him run to him for everything. That is how God wants us to be before him. Like little children. The rule of prayer, the services, and the psalms are valuable aids. They are like the trellis that we put in the small climate to help it support itself and rise upwards, towards the light. But when the climate strengthens, it spreads its rungs everywhere, embraces the sun, lives and breathes in its light. So too for us, the rule is to teach us the way. To give us the first words. But the purpose is to learn to speak to God alone in our own words every moment. How is this done? Very simply with the memory of God. When you wake up in the morning, before you even get up, say glory to you, Lord, that you have made me worthy to see the light of the new day. When you wash your hands, say within yourself, Lord, as my body is washed with water, cleanse also my soul from all defilement. You see a flower on the road, admire it, and say, Praise God for your beauty. Someone is bothering you. Do not hold a grudge against them. Say it immediately. Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me and have mercy on my brother, too. You feel afraid, whisper, My Mother, cover me. Every action, every thought, every breath can become a prayer. Words are not important, but the movement of the heart towards God. This constant, effortless reference to Christ is an uninterrupted prayer. It is like holding His hand constantly, all day long, in whatever you do. So do not be afraid when you cannot keep the formulas. A sigh from the depths of the heart, a thought, full of love for Christ, is more precious than a thousand psalms said with the mind elsewhere. Let your heart speak. He listens, always listens. I sometimes watch people's attempts to pray, and my heart sinks. I see how they stand before the icons. How they mumble words they have learned by heart. How their bodies are focused, and their minds are wandering elsewhere. I see them counting their penances, keeping track of the hours, following the ritual with anxiety. It is as if God is a strict judge who awaits their slightest mistake to reject them. And then it becomes visible, dear ones, that the source of joy and life, which is conversation with our Creator, is transformed into a heavy, soul-crushing obligation. The soul, instead of flying, is imprisoned in golden cages of rules. Many people think, my child, that prayer is a list of rules and obligations. They think that God expects us to stand for hours, read specific psalms, and adhere to a program with military discipline. And if one day they don't make it out of fatigue or some need, they are filled with guilt and anxiety. They think they have displeased him, that they have lost his favor. But my dear, think about it, this is how a child speaks to his father with rules and a program. No. The child runs to his father whenever he feels the need. He runs when he is afraid, when he is happy, when he is in pain, when he simply wants to feel his embrace. He doesn't think about whether it is the right time or whether he has the right words. He simply opens his heart. That is what God wants from us. Our heart. Not the demonstration of our piety. What worries people's hearts is the fear that Christians are not right, that they are not doing enough, and so instead of prayer being an act of love, it becomes an act of anxiety. I remember a good and pious man who once came to me in despair. An elder tells me that last night I fell asleep and I didn't say my rule. I have lost my soul. I looked at him with love and said to him, My child, God saw your tired body and your good intention. The sleep He gave you was also a blessing, a prayer for your body. God is not an accountant keeping records. He is a father who rejoices when his children rest near him, even if it means falling asleep in his arms. So real prayer is not measured by the clock, but by love. It is not what you say, but how you live it. When you wash the dishes and say to yourself, "Lord, as this dish is clean, clean my soul." That is prayer. When you walk down the street and see a flower and praise God for its beauty, that is prayer. When you see a person suffering and your heart aches for him, asking God to help him, that is the most powerful prayer. Do not bind your soul. Let her breathe the air of God in every moment. When you cook, when you work, when you talk to people with love, when you forgive them, all these moments become an uninterrupted conversation with him. God does not dwell only in churches and prayer books. He dwells in the heart that loves him and seeks him in everything. This constant remembrance of God, this tender turning of the heart towards him, is the prayer that never ceases and that transforms the whole of life into a doxology. You see, my child, we have reached the end of our conversation. We began with your anxiety about the rules, about the rosaries that you counted as a debt, about the psalms that you whispered without your heart participating. We talked about the big mistake that many people make in believing that God is a strict judge who expects us to impress him with our performance in prayer. They think they have to win his attention with hours of standing and endless sequences. All of this, my child, is the indicator that kept you away from him, the indicator of fear and obligation. But God is not an accountant to keep track of your prayers and repentances. He is a father. And a father does not ask his child for reports and proofs. He asks for his heart; he longs for his company. This continuous silent or loud conversation with him through your joys and sorrows, that is all that matters. Make him a part of your every moment as you breathe, without thinking about it. That is why I want you to keep only this in your soul as a final legacy. When you wash the dishes, when you drive to work, when you watch your children play, when you feel alone in the dark, know that turning your heart to He, even for a moment, is the most powerful prayer. The cry of your soul, my God, is an entire psalm. Your pain is your most sincere confession, and your joy, your most brilliant praise. And know, my child, that He always listens to you. He hears the beat of your heart that seeks Him even when your lips are silent. He hears your fatigue, your hope, your love. You don't need to prove anything to Him. Your existence itself is a continuous conversation with Him. That's why I leave you with just one exhortation. Listen to it well. Don't get tired of rules. Get tired of loving. Get tired of showing patience to your fellow man. Get tired of digging. Get tired of saying a good word. Get tired of seeing Christ in the face of every person. Every time you get tired like this, you will pray most truly. There lies the whole secret in love. Only in love. Come on, my child. Go to God's prayer and never forget. He is always there and listens to you. May his love always be with you.