Prayer is an act of love; words are not needed. Even if sickness

“Prayer is an act of love; words are not needed. Even if sickness distracts from thoughts, all that is needed is the will to love.” Thus spoke Saint Teresa of Avila, the mystic flame of Spain, whose soul burned with divine longing and whose words echo still through the corridors of time. In this saying, she unveils a truth as simple as it is profound: that prayer is not a matter of speech, ritual, or form — but of love. To pray, she tells us, is not merely to speak to God, but to love Him with one’s whole being, even when the body is weak and the mind is weary. For in the language of heaven, love itself is the only tongue that needs no translation.

To understand her wisdom, one must remember the life she lived. Teresa of Avila, a woman of frail health but fierce spirit, walked the path of divine union not through comfort, but through trial. She suffered illness, misunderstanding, and the weight of reforming her own religious order. Yet in her pain, she discovered a truth that many overlook: that the heart’s desire for God is prayer in its purest form. When she could no longer kneel or recite words, her love continued its silent ascent, like incense rising through the stillness. Thus she learned that true prayer does not depend on the tongue, but on the soul’s will to love — a will that cannot be silenced by suffering.

In her words we hear the echo of the ancients — for every age has known the wisdom that divine communion is born not from eloquence, but from sincerity. The Psalmist wrote, “Be still and know that I am God,” and the desert fathers of early Christendom prayed not through many phrases, but through the silence of the heart. Teresa, inheriting their fire, taught that to love God deeply is to be already praying, whether one speaks or not. Even when the mind wanders — as it does in sickness, grief, or fatigue — the soul can still cling to love. The will itself, steadfast and yearning, becomes a sacred offering.

Consider also the story of Brother Lawrence, the humble monk who found holiness not in cloisters of marble, but in the simple act of washing dishes. He said, “The time of business does not with me differ from the time of prayer.” Like Saint Teresa, he knew that love sanctifies every act, turning the ordinary into the divine. When his hands were too weary to fold in prayer, his heart still burned with affection for his Creator. This is what Teresa means when she says, “words are not needed.” The one who loves purely prays even in silence, even in confusion, even in pain.

Saint Teresa’s teaching also shatters the pride of those who believe prayer must be grand or perfect. She reminds us that God listens not to the voice, but to the heart. A thousand polished words mean nothing if love is absent, but a single sigh of devotion — uttered or unuttered — reaches heaven like a song. Even the weak, the broken, the distracted, and the suffering can pray, for all that is needed is the will to love. In this, she offers a mercy vast and radiant: that no human being, however frail, is ever beyond the reach of divine communion.

There is a hidden heroism in this kind of prayer — a courage of the spirit that endures when the body cannot. For to love when one feels distant, to keep faith when one feels lost, is an act of strength greater than any sermon. Teresa’s own life was a storm of doubt and devotion, yet through it all she kept her gaze upon the Beloved. She teaches that love is not measured by feeling but by fidelity — the steadfast will to remain open to God even in darkness. When the soul can no longer see or speak, the will to love becomes its last and greatest prayer.

So, my child, take this teaching into your heart: do not be afraid of silence in prayer, nor ashamed of distraction or weariness. Do not measure your devotion by the eloquence of your words, but by the sincerity of your love. When you cannot pray, love. When you cannot love easily, will yourself to love still — for that will is itself a spark of grace. Every heartbeat offered in love is a prayer the heavens understand.

And remember this: to love is to pray, and to pray is to live in love. The one who walks in this truth never ceases to be in the presence of God. Whether in strength or sickness, in speech or in silence, let your soul whisper its quiet “yes” to the eternal. For in that “yes” — in that will to love — you will find what Saint Teresa found: that the greatest prayer is not made of words, but of the heart’s unbroken longing for the Divine.