Pray at night.

 Pray at night.

Pray alone.

 Pray without using a book,

 without any mental imagery,

without thinking.

Simply remain awake for ten minutes after you have woken up—perhaps to drink a glass of water, or because your child or a nightmare has roused you. Stand there in the darkness, making no movement and no sound.

Bring time to a standstill; capture the moment and present it before Christ as a humble offering: "This is who I am; this is my true self—this is the one whom You must save."

In truth, it might even be helpful to forget that you are supposed to pray. Most of us harbor such terribly distorted ideas about what prayer is that it is better to simply forget the very notion that we ought to pray. Just stand there and gaze into the darkness outside your window. At other times, make a prostration, close your eyes while lying on the floor, and remain there—simply wait. Hold your body in a posture of expectation, yet banish every thought from your mind. Do not say anything. Do not think anything. Do not imagine anything. Do not pray. Do not move. Simply wait to feel His presence. Wait for Him to turn His attention to your silence, your stillness, your death. Wait for Christ, and He will come, for love compels Him.

This is the privilege of praying at such a moment. The night serves as a shield against thoughts, fantasies, and sentimentalism. Strive to be present in this moment; seek to be aware of the silence that surrounds you. Let the void of this darkness embrace you—let it enter within you and fill you with serenity and stillness. There is something almost mystical about this hidden silence and stillness before Christ. This darkness, this isolation, this instinctive awareness of one’s own mortality—all of these things urge one to open up to paths that would be impossible to access during the day.

Be conscious of the fact that you are keeping watch before Christ while the world sleeps—defenseless and vulnerable. You keep vigil before Christ, struggling on behalf of the world; you have become an intercessor for this fallen, slumbering world—a world that is one with you, and for which Christ died.

Ten minutes alone with Christ, night after night, and your life will be transformed. When you awaken to face the cares of the new day, something within you rejoices: you and Christ share a secret; you and Christ share a battle. Your soul knows how it has been nourished, and it also knows that, no matter what may occur during the day, the night will always return with its peace and stillness. You will live your days in anticipation of the night—for when night falls, you will once again offer yourself to your Creator, and your Creator will nourish you once more.

- Text by Fr. Seraphim Aldea