Why does it sometimes hurt to pray? You thought you were growing, but lately, prayer feels less like a warm blanket and more like a raw nerve. You sit in silence waiting for the peace you used to feel, but instead, you are met with a sharp, physical hunger for God that you cannot satisfy.

In the Sixth Mansion of The Interior Castle, St. Teresa of Ávila introduces the "Wound of Love," echoing the bride in the Song of Songs who is faint with love. We explore her Spanish term arrebatamiento (a sudden snatching away) and her intense, beautiful image of the Golden Arrow. When His fire hits the soul like a spark striking dry wood, it leaves a pain that is both sharp and sweet. This isn't the numbness of depression; it is the agony of the "almost."

If you are exhausted by the oscillation between fiery moments of profound love and periods of cold, heavy silence, you are not failing. God intentionally creates this distance to expand your capacity to hold Him. Just like waiting for someone you love to come home, the distance only hurts because the love is real. You are a fledgling learning to fly, and the branch you sit on is steady. The ache isn't a problem to be solved; the ache is the prayer.

This episode is for you if you have ever felt completely stretched out by prayer and worried that God was pulling away.

The fire comes for ordinary wood. Learn to sit on the branch with One Good Book at justonegoodbook.com.