Prayer sits at the heart of the spiritual life, and Jesus teaches it through his words and actions. As God, he did not need to pray, yet he prayed constantly, showing us how vital prayer is for communion with the Father. He began his ministry in fasting and prayer (Matthew 4:2; Luke 4:2). A disciple, moved by Jesus’ steady prayer routine, asked him to teach them how to pray (Luke 11:1).
After offering the “Our Father,” (Luke 11:5–12), Jesus explains why we must pray with persistence. He uses the image of a midnight visitor whose relentless asking stirs a friend to rise and help. The message is clear: persistent prayer opens the door to God’s mercy.
In Luke 18, Jesus returns to the same theme and presents three snapshots of prayer and three dispositions of the heart. The widow (Luke 18:1–8) embodies relentless, persistent prayer. The tax collector (Luke 18:9–14) models penitent prayer. And the Pharisee’s (Luke 18:9–14) represents self-referential prayer, the opposite of contrition. All, except the Pharisee’s, reflect the classic prayer of petition or intercession. This reflection expands more on the Widow’s as it is the Catholic liturgical Gospel reading of Saturday Week 32.
Persistent Prayer
The widow (Luke 18:1–8) embodies relentless, persistent prayer. She pleads with an unjust judge who neither fears God nor respects people, yet her refusal to give up moves him to act. Jesus isn’t comparing God to an unjust judge; he’s pointing to human experience. If persistence can move someone with no interest in justice, how much more will a merciful God respond to us?
Just as in Luke 11, persistence can rouse a sleeping friend at midnight and move a father to give bread to a hungry child. And we have no better judge than God, no truer friend than the Lord, and no more gracious Father than the heavenly Abba.
Penitent Prayer
The tax collector (Luke 18:9–14) models penitent prayer. He stands at a distance, beats his chest and prays, “God, be merciful to me, a sinner.” Jesus honors his prayer because it is honest, humble and fully open to grace.
“Standing at a distance” shows that he refuses to take the privilege of God’s presence for granted. The man’s posture expresses humility, a sense of unworthiness before God. His words say it. His gestures reveal it and his heart confirms it. In the tax collector is a case of someone thoroughly sincere.
When a penitent heart like the tax collector’s is persistence, it becomes a fertile ground for divine mercy.
Self-Referential Prayer
Jesus contrasts the tax collector with the Pharisee (Luke 18:9–14). The Pharisee represents self-referential prayer, the opposite of contrition. He praises himself instead of seeking God’s mercy. His posture (“standing and praying to himself”) symbolizes presumptuous confidence. His prayer contains no petition where he is the one seeking help and no openness to grace.
Jesus uses him to show how pride blocks authentic communion with God. Here lies the deeper danger: pride almost never persists. A prideful heart does not tolerate silence. It demands immediate answers. It refuses to wait on God. Persistence is not the virtue of the proud; it is the virtue of the humble.
Growing in Spiritual Persistence
When our prayers seem unanswered, discouragement hits hard. We feel like Israel of old, wandering through the wilderness of worry. Some days, tomorrow looks as dark as a moonless night, and hope feels like an illusion. Our hearts grow numb to the Psalmist’s reminder to “Remember the marvels God has done” (Psalm 105:5). When we forget, our zeal fades, and indifference creeps in.
Pride worsens this frustration. It lures us to go our own way, find shortcuts or rely on our strength alone. But those shortcuts leave us empty and exhausted. We try and fail woefully.
Persistence, not pride, leads us to grace. And persistence, I guess, is something we know well. We persist when we desperately need something, don’t we? We persist when it’s our last resort.
Our instinct to survive pushes us to hold on a little longer. We persist when our future depends on it. And most of all, we persist when we love.
Deepening in Patience
Love fuels patience. When we love someone, we stay and hope for better days. Lose hope, and discouragement overtakes us. Lose love, and passion evaporates quickly, and darkness sets in, so the unbearable anxiety that follows.
When we love God, we wait for him and wait on him. Persistent prayer becomes less a burden and more an expression of that love. In divine love, even when the answers we seek seem distant, God grants other gifts that astonish us. The new displaces the old. Our ways yield to the Lord’s glorious path and light. We realize then that better answers are lined up for us to walk on and understand.
Many who grow in prayer know their hearts expand simply by staying with God. Love deepens. The desire for communion increases. Restlessness fades. As St. Augustine said, our restless hearts find rest in God. Or as St. Catherine of Siena echoes, the soul becomes “satisfied in God.”
When Prayer Feels Dry
Prayer is not always consoling. You know this, and so does anyone who has passed through the grueling experience of the suffering on the path of following the crucified Lord. Sometimes prayer feels jaded and empty if not a waste of time. Our minds drift from worry to worry. Our hearts feel cold. In those moments, quitting seems easier.
Yet even distractions, anxieties, and restless thoughts can become part of our conversation with God. Bring them with you. Sit with them before the gentle God who listens. If you persevere while the distractions persist, something gradually shifts. What once felt like a closed door slowly opens, and grace enters quietly, almost unnoticed.
The Blessed Lord reassures: “Will not God vindicate his elect, who cry to him day and night? … He will vindicate them speedily” (Luke 18:7–8).
And he will vindicate you. Draw strength from Wisdom 19:7–8: the God who led Israel across the sea on dry land still leads his people. He shelters us with his hand.
May God grant us the grace of persistent prayer, the courage to keep knocking, trusting and loving. Amen.
God love you. God bless you.
Fr. Maurice Emelu
