The Quiet Maturity of a Deepening Prayer Life

Blog by Alan Fadling

There comes a point in our journey when prayer no longer carries the same emotional sweetness it once did. The early intensity fades. What once felt vivid becomes quiet. Many of us interpret that shift as a step backward. But it may be one of the ways God deepens our life in him.

As Boase describes the way prayer matures, he writes:

“In early years, consolation is almost synonymous with emotional sweetness; later our taste so changes that we should not care very much for such emotion even if it were within our reach.” [1]

There’s a sweetness to our early experiences of prayer—those moments when God feels especially near and everything about faith feels alive. Many of us begin with emotion and intensity. But as we grow, that sweetness fades. And that fading is not a problem. It’s an invitation.

When we’re new to prayer, God often meets us in the language we understand—our emotions. Emotional sweetness, though beautiful, isn’t meant to carry us forever. God draws us in with it, then gently weans us from it, because it isn’t the deepest nourishment our souls need.

I sometimes think of it as spiritual baby food. It’s good and necessary, but not meant for adulthood. If we equate emotional intensity with intimacy, we may become discouraged when prayer grows quieter. We think we’ve lost something. But in truth, God is deepening the relationship.

Boase says that as prayer matures, it simplifies itself toward awareness of God’s presence. He writes:

“The growing-point of a truly fruitful life of prayer is the emergence into consciousness of a ‘sense’ of that presence, a ‘taste,’ a ‘touch’… There are no new words for this new thing. The keynote of supernatural prayer has always been recognized as this: an experienced awareness of the presence of the reality of God.” [2]

That phrase—the presence of the reality of God—carries a depth that words can barely hold. Prayer slowly moves from sweetness and striving into stillness and presence. It becomes simpler. We move from talking to God to being with God.

It’s like sitting quietly with a long-time friend. You don’t need to fill the air with words. Just being together is enough.

When I look back over my own prayer life, I can see this pattern clearly. In my twenties and thirties, I felt prayer most strongly in moments of passion or emotion—music, retreats, intense seasons of ministry. But as the years have gone by, I’ve found a growing joy in the quiet, undramatic moments of prayer. Sometimes it’s just a gentle awareness that I’m not alone. God is here.

And that is enough.

Maybe you’ve noticed this in your own journey too. Maybe what once felt like dryness is actually God inviting you deeper. Maybe what feels like absence is an invitation to presence.

The tide is still rising, even when the waves seem to recede.

So what if you stopped trying to bring in the tide with your own bucket? What if you let the tide of God’s love move in its own rhythm, in its own time?

Prayer matures as we release our tight grip on outcomes and learn to trust God’s work in both the highs and the lows, in both the sweetness and the stillness. The incoming tide of grace keeps moving, even when we cannot see it.

Boase’s image helps me remember that the slow work of grace is never wasted. The tide always reaches the shore. I can step away from my frantic efforts to make spiritual life “work.” I can rest, and let God bring in the tide.

Here is a simple prayer for that journey:

Lord, teach us to cooperate with however you wish to bring in the tide in our lives.

Help us trust your rhythm—the waves of consolation and of desolation, the sweetness and the stillness.

When we feel you near, help us receive the gift with gratitude.

When you feel far, help us remember the tide is still coming in.

Mature our prayer until it becomes simple presence, resting in the reality that you are here.

Amen.

For Reflection:

• Where have you equated emotional intensity with intimacy in your own prayer life, and what might God be inviting you to notice instead?
• How is God meeting you in the quieter, less dramatic moments of prayer these days?
• What would it look like to release your grip on outcomes and allow prayer to become simple presence with God?

[1] Boase, p. 31.

[2] Boase, p. 47.