When God Asks, "What Do You Need?"

by Lori Wilson

I had coffee with a friend last week, and halfway through our conversation, he paused and said, "But what do you actually need right now, Lori?"

The question stopped me. Not "How are you?" Not "What's new?" But what do you need?

I realized I'd been talking around everything—updating him on tasks, sharing stories, filling the space—without really saying what was true. His question created an opening. It invited me past the surface into something more real.

And suddenly I could speak honestly. About the weariness I'd been carrying. About the question I'd been holding. About what I was actually hoping for.

That conversation has stayed with me because it reminds me of a spiritual practice I treasure—one that Ignatius of Loyola taught centuries ago. He called it the colloquy.

The Gift of Honest Conversation

A colloquy is simply a conversation with God. Not a formal prayer with the right words. Not recitation or petition. Just talking—really talking—to God as you would to a friend who loves you and wants to know what's true in your heart.

Ignatius placed the colloquy at the end of contemplative prayer, after you've spent time with Scripture or reflected on your day or sat with a sacred truth. It's the moment when you turn toward God and speak from whatever has been stirred in you.

You might speak to Jesus. To Mary. To God as Father or Mother or the Spirit. Whoever feels most present to you in that moment. The invitation is the same: be honest. Be yourself. Say what's real.

In the Spiritual Exercises, Ignatius describes it beautifully: "making a colloquy, speaking exactly as one friend speaks to another."

Not performing. Not pretending. Not filtering to say only what sounds holy. Just speaking "exactly as one friend speaks to another."

What if prayer could be that simple? That honest? That intimate?

What the Colloquy Invites

The colloquy invites us into the kind of relationship with God that we most long for—one where we're fully known and fully loved. Where we can bring our confusion, our gratitude, our questions, our joy. Where nothing is too small or too messy to share.

Maybe you've just read a passage of Scripture and found yourself moved by Jesus's compassion. The colloquy is your chance to tell him, "This is what I noticed. This is what I need from you."

Maybe you've been carrying a decision, and you're unsure which way to turn. The colloquy invites you to lay it before God: "Here's where I am. Here's what I'm afraid of. What do you want me to see?"

Maybe you're angry. Disappointed. Confused. The colloquy doesn't ask you to clean that up first. It asks you to bring it as it is.

This is the heart of Ignatian spirituality—not detachment from our feelings, but bringing them into conversation with God. Not transcending our humanness, but offering it to the One who became human for us.

Beginning Your Own Colloquy

If you'd like to try this practice, here's what I suggest:

Find a quiet space. Take a few breaths. Let yourself settle.

Then simply begin speaking to God—out loud if you're alone, or silently if that feels more natural. Speak as you would to someone who knows you and loves you completely.

You might start with what you're grateful for. Or what's heavy on your heart. Or what question you're holding. Or what you noticed during your prayer time.

Tell God what you need. What you're hoping for. What you're afraid of. What you're wondering.

And then—this is important—pause. Listen. Not for an audible voice, but for what surfaces in the silence. A memory. A Scripture verse. A sense of peace. A new perspective. A new idea or understanding. Sometimes nothing at all. That's okay, too.  Trust that God will speak to you.

The practice isn't about getting answers. It's about a relationship. It's about learning to speak truthfully to God and to trust that God is listening. It’s about attuning your heart to God’s voice. 

An Invitation

My friend's question—"What do you need?"—created space for me to be honest. The colloquy creates the same space with God.

What if the God who made you, who knows every hidden part of your heart, is asking you that same question today?

What do you need?

Not what you think you should need. Not what sounds spiritual enough. What do you actually need right now?

God is already listening. The invitation is simply to speak.

Reflection Questions

• When you pray, do you find yourself performing or being honest? What makes it hard to speak to God as you would to a friend?

• If God asked you right now, "What do you need?" what would you say?

• What might change in your prayer life if you believed God truly wants to hear what's real in your heart—not just what sounds holy?

• Who feels most present to you when you imagine speaking openly to God—Jesus? The Spirit? God as Father or Mother? Why that person of the Trinity?

A Prayer to Begin

God who knows me completely, Teach me to speak to you as I would to a friend— honestly, openly, without pretense. Give me the courage to bring what's real in my heart, not just what I think you want to hear. Help me trust that you're already listening, that you already love me, that nothing I could say would make you turn away. Meet me in this conversation. Amen.