Last week, I introduced the Jesus Prayer, “Lord Jesus Christ, son of God, have mercy upon me, a sinner.” This week, I want to discuss the practical benefits of the prayer. A common complaint about this and other contemplative prayers is that they’re really for monks and people who don’t live in the “real world.” This involves a misunderstanding. While there are monastics and professional priests who are deeply involved in contemplative prayer, including the Jesus Prayer, many ordinary people practice it in their daily lives. On and off throughout my professional life, I have been one of those people. My goal was not to become a monk or reach nirvana. My goal was to be a better lawyer, pastor, or leader.
The Practical Purpose of the Jesus Prayer
The purpose of the Jesus Prayer is not to enter into some kind of mystical state. Experienced practitioners often say that highly emotional, mystical experiences are not signs of spiritual accomplishment but of an inexperienced or adolescent spiritual life. Those who practice the prayer most effectively are those for whom it becomes simply a part of who they are as they go about their day-to-day lives. Even for monks who practiced the prayer for long periods of time, mystical teachers suggest that part of each day should be spent in manual labor. This indicates that material reality and our material need to work to make a living should not be separated from our spiritual need for meaning in life and a connection with ultimate reality.
The Prayer of the Heart is designed to overcome the division in our culture between the body, emotions, and the mind, or, in more traditional spiritual vocabulary, between the head and the heart. In our culture, this becomes even more important because one of the symptoms of our culture is a division between minds and bodies (the head and the heart) that encourages people to develop fairly serious neurosis and even psychotic symptoms. One of the purposes of the Jesus Prayer is to reintegrate our minds, bodies, and emotions into a unity.[1]
We Cannot Divide our Psychosomatic Unity
One characteristic of the modern world is the division between mind and body. The philosopher Descartes spoke of material things (‘res extensa’) and mental things (‘res cogitans’) as distinct. This encourages a division in which the head, or what we would call the mind, and the heart, or what we would call the body, are considered separate and unconnected. This does not align with the best explanation of what we can see in our world. Modern physics, for example, discerns a mental element all the way down into the quantum world. Wherever we go, we find meaning. The physicist and philosopher Alfred North Whitehead took this to mean that there was a mental element to reality “all the way down” into the subatomic world. For Whitehead and those influenced by his insights, there is a mental pole and a physical pole to one integrated reality. [2].
It is never bare, thought, or bear existence that we are aware of. I find myself as essentially a unity of emotions, enjoyments, hopes, fears, regrets, valuations of alternatives, decisions – all of them subjective reactions to the environment as an as active in my nature. My unity –Descartes “I am”—is my process of shaping this welter of material into a consistent pattern of feelings.[3]
Put another way, it’s not as easy as some people believe to separate minds, bodies, and emotions. Mind and matter seem to be two sides of the same coin. Furthermore, when it comes to emotions, we realize they are deeply connected to our minds and the way we think. The reverse is also true. Our minds affect the kinds of emotions we feel. And of course, we all know that our bodies affect both of these things. If I’m sick, my emotional life is impacted, as is my mental life and ability to reason properly. In other words, in some way, it’s not possible to divide our minds, our bodies, and our emotions. In fact, I believe it’s dangerous and unhealthy to do so. That’s the reason we live in a culture that finds it so easy to be neurotic. We’ve done this for about 300 years in a very unhealthy way. The Prayer of the Heart is designed to help us reintegrate ourselves into our relationships with God, our fellow human beings, and creation itself.
Results of Division
From the foregoing, it is clear that, from a purely practical point of view, we human beings have a problem acting with wisdom and love because we struggle to integrate mind, body, and spirit into a healthy unity. The Greek language uses a word that implies the needed unity—nous—often translated as “mind” or “heart.” We do not have an English word that quite captures the full meaning of nous. Most of us who begin to think about what is sometimes called “Orthodox Healing” have a hard time grasping the notion that we have a capacity to understand or perceive truth that is not merely the result of what is called discursive thought or “thinking things through with our minds.” The nous is not merely our minds, for it includes our hearts and emotions as well. It includes our capacity to “put things together,” perceive reality correctly, and rest in that truth with our entire being.
From a spiritual point of view, our ability to perceive and respond to reality, whether accurately or not, is shaped by our self-centeredness and tendency toward selfishness. We are sometimes anxious and inclined to act out of fear and other negative emotions. Finally, we are inclined to make decisions that are not in our own best interest. The Orthodox believe that this is not “sin” in the sense of something we inherited, but rather a brokenness or lack of health that we have developed by immersion in a social context in which all of those around us act in just the same way, and we are inclined to do. If we call this our sin nature, that is fine, but we need to remember that it translates into our personal inability to act with wisdom and love by which we distort ourselves and others.
The Jesus Prayer reconnects us with the life of God, enabling us to embody the Christlike wholeness for which we were created. In simple terms, think of the Jesus Prayer as a healing tool. It helps us restore our natural ability, as unified beings, to live in God’s presence, filled with His life, and to see and respond to the world as the Eternal One envisioned. One way it does this is by creating space between us and the flow of thoughts, what the Greeks called logismoi, so we can stand outside them and respond without being controlled by negative thoughts arising from anxiety, fear, or unhealthy desire, which can lead to a false reaction.
Reintegration
I want to return to last week for a moment. In that blog, I wrote about four stages of the spiritual life, the final two of which are:
- The Intermediate State. In this stage, which most people strive to reach, human beings have good sense and good judgment and can rightly assess the moral and spiritual consequences of most situations. However, in this stage, we are still, in some sense, pragmatically interested in the faith that works for us. We are still, in some ways, captured by our own human nature.
- The Transcendental State. In the final stage, which the orthodox believe few attain, human beings achieve a kind of transcendental enlightenment in which a person acts according to the perfect judgment that only those who have escaped the control of their passions can attain.
Notice that in neither case do we assume that the practitioner has escaped the duties, temptations, and difficulties of everyday life, nor the responsibility to act in the world. This responsibility is assumed to continue, but it is now transformed by the indwelling Spirit of God, with the cooperation of the human actor, who has become someone who acts according to wise, loving, godly judgment. While it may be somewhat more common for those with a monastic profession to achieve the fullness of the spiritual life, I do not think it is impossible for the rest of us. It will just look a bit different.
Knight of Faith and Prayer of the Heart
When I think about the goal for those of us who are not monks and do not have either the time or the inclination to devote our entire lives to the Prayer of the Heart, I am reminded of Soren Kierkegaard and his description of what he calls the “Knight of Faith:”
The moment I first set eyes on him, I thrust him away, jump back, clasp my hands together and say half a loud: “Good God! Is this the person. Is this really him? He looks just like a tax gatherer.” Yet it is indeed him. I come a little closer, watch the least movement in case some small, incongruous optical, telegraphic message from the infinite should appear, a glance, expression, gesture, a sadness, a smile betraying the infinite by its incongruity with the finite. No! I examine him from top to toe, in case there should be any crack through which the infinite peep out. No! He is solid through and through. His stance? Vigorous, it belongs altogether to the finite, no smartly turned out townsmen taking a stroll … on a Sunday afternoon, treads the ground with surer foot, he belongs altogether to the world, no petite bourgeois belongs to it any more. …This man takes pleasure, takes part, and everything, and whenever everyone catches him occupied with something, his engagement has the persistence of the worldly person whose soul is wrapped up in such things. He minds his affairs. To see him at them, you would think he was some pen pusher who had lost his soul to Italian bookkeeping, so attentive to detail is he. He takes a holiday on Sundays. He goes to church, no heavenly glance or any other sign of the incommensurable betrays him: if one didn’t know him, it would be altogether impossible to set him apart from the rest of the crowd, for at most his hardy, lusty Psalm singing proves that he has a good set of lungs. In the afternoon, he takes a walk in the woods. He delights in everything he sees…. You would think he was a shopkeeper having his fling, such as his way of taking pleasure; … Toward evening, he goes home, his step tireless as a postman. On the way, it occurs to him that his wife will surely have some special little warm dish for his return for example, a roast head of lamb with vegetables. … As it happens, he hasn’t a penny, and yet he firmly believes his wife has that delicacy waiting for him.[4]
The purpose of heartfelt prayer is to help us become the sort of person Kierkegaard describes. Of course, some will enter a religious profession, take up prayer, and pursue a kind of spiritual perfection. But this does not mean the rest of us should not take up the habit. Our goal is to become fully and completely what we are called to be, which may be, as Kierkegaard mentions, an accountant, a tax collector, a construction worker, a small business owner, an employee of a large company, or whatever. Whatever it is, there should be something different about us—and that difference is not “otherworldliness.” Instead, it is the capacity to live in the concrete world of our daily life, allowing God’s life to permeate our ordinary, day-to-day life in a world-transforming way. The goal of the Prayer of the Heart is to help us become “knights of faith,” filled with the Spirit of God.
Copyright 2026, G. Christopher Scruggs, All Rights Reserved
[1] As with last week’s blog, this week is substantially based on Frederica Mathewes Green, The Jesus Prayer: The Ancient Desert Prayer that Tunes the Heart to God (Brewster Mass: Paraclete Press, 2009-2010).
[2] Alfred North Whitehead, Process and Reality (New York, NY: The MacMillan Company, 1929, 1957), 128.
[3] Alfred North Whitehead, Modes of Thought (New York, NY: The Macmillan Company, 1938, 1966), 166.
[4] Soren Kierkegaard, Fear and Trembling, tr. Alastair Hannay (New York, NY: Penguin Books, 1985), 68-69 (emphasis added). I have taken small liberties to make Hannay’s translation more readable.



















