Imaginative Prayer (Spiritual Practice of the Month)

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Some of the most powerful prayer times I’ve had personally or guided others through have been through the Ignatian practice of Imaginative Prayer. Imaginative Prayer – not surprisingly – refers to the experience of bringing your imagination into the process of reading and praying with Scripture. 

While I was in spiritual direction training, my instructor, Jared, led us through an imaginative prayer on the Gospel story of Jesus silencing the wind and wavesIn imaginative prayer, you can picture yourself as a person already in the story, add yourself to the scene as a bystander – even imagine yourself as an inanimate object or a natural force, like the boat or like the storm. There are no limits to how you can interact with the scene in your mind and emotions.

As Jared read through the passage to us, he encouraged us to place ourselves in the scene we were hearing. We were to imagine the feeling of the boat heaving beneath us, feel the gusts of wind and the icy rain pelting down on us, smell and taste the salt air, feel the panic clenching in our stomachs, hear the frenzied shouting of the disciples as they tried to keep the boat from capsizing or breaking apart. 

In my own prayer, I didn’t take on another persona. I was simply me, witnessing the unfolding interaction between Jesus and his disciples. As Jared read the passage again, I watched and heard the scene unfold the second time, I was struck by the disciples’  question to Jesus: “Teacher, don’t you care if we drown?” Suddenly, that question became my own, and I found myself saying to Jesus, without planning it in the least, “Lord, don’t you care if drown?”

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As I spoke those words, I think I realized in a new way how overwhelmed and tired I had been, how I felt pushed and pulled in different directions. I felt like I was drowning amidst the competing demands of my life. In my prayer, I was, like the disciples, reaching out to Jesus for rescue.

And what was Jesus’ response? In my prayer, he did something different than he did in the original Gospel story. Instead of quieting the storm, he took off his cloak, folded it into a pillow, and gestured to me that I should lie down and rest. He was letting me know that, whatever was going on around me, I could be at peace. He would watch over and take care of me.

That interaction with Jesus affected me profoundly at the time and still continues to shape me. That tangible sense of Jesus’s care and provision for me led me to the leap of faith that was leaving my job and unknowingly prepared me for an intense season of parenting a child in crisis. I remember that prayer often and it reminds me to trust and rest. It reminds me that I am safe with the Lord.

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How can you experience Imaginative Prayer for yourself? First, it’s helpful to know that the Gospels and other narrative sections are often the most fruitful places in Scripture to pray imaginatively because they have stories you can enter into. (If you are poetically inclined and respond well to language and imagery, the Psalms and other poetic or prophetic books like Isaiah would also work.)

Once you have your Scripture passage chosen, follow these steps:

  1. Find a comfortable, quiet place. Invite God to be with you and to guide your prayer time.
  2. Read the passage aloud or quietly to yourself.
  3. Read it again. This time, imagine yourself within the scene  – as one of the main people, as a bystander, even as an object or element.
  4. Use all five senses: try to taste, touch, hear, see, smell what is going on. What are you doing? What are others doing?
  5. Bring to your awareness: What emotions or thoughts are coming up?  What do you feel happening in your body? How is God speaking to you through the unfolding scene and your inner and bodily responses?
  6. Is there any action God is inviting you to take or commitment he is inviting you to make?

I hope imaginative prayer becomes another invaluable way for you to connect with God and learn more of his heart for you!

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Photo credits:

Stormy sea: GEORGE DESIPRIS from Pexels

Woman underwater: Life Of Pix from Pexels

 Man praying: Matheus Bertelli from Pexels

Love, According to a First-Grader (and some Minions)

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At our church retreat last week, my six-year old discovered an – shall we say – appreciation for her class teacher. “Mom,” she whispered. “I got my first crush!”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, on my teacher!”

“Your teacher? What’s his name?”

“Ben.”

We have some conversation about the admirable qualities of nice, funny Ben before moving onto other subjects.

The next day:

“Mom, guess what? I told Ben I had a crush on him, and he said he has a crush on me, too!

“Wow, that’s great! So does this mean he’s your boyfriend now?”

“No, Mom, I can’t have a boyfriend! I have a husband!”

The tone of her voice tells me she is questioning my mental capacity.

“Oh, really, who? You said you wanted to marry G [a boy from her pre-Kindergarten class]. Did that happen without me noticing?”

“NO, Mom! Jack! Jack is my husband.”

“Oh, right. I forgot about Jack.”

Jack is her imaginary husband of about six months. He started out as a fiancé, and almost instantaneously moved up to permanent status. When she told me about their marriage, she also told me emphatically that he’s an adult, not a kid, and I refrained from commenting on yet another barrier to the legality and longevity of their union.

When Jack first became a part of our lives, she had long, rapid-fire conversations with him on an old Blackberry in Public, an imaginary language first invented by her older brother when he was three or four. (I think he must have heard the phrase “speaking in public” and misapplied it in a manner that actually makes total sense.) Public has no discernible rules, grammatical structure, or consistency, but sometimes sounds like Minion language, if the Minions were only slaughtering Spanish and perhaps Portuguese, and not also French, Mandarin, and a grab bag of other languages.

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I’m not sure who the wronged party is in this situation: Jack or Ben. The husband or the crush? But I am relieved my daughter at least understands that adultery is not an option.

So, this morning, as we’re snuggling in bed, we revisit the subject of Ben, for the benefit of her older sister, who wasn’t at the retreat with us. “Why do you like Ben again? Is it because he’s nice and funny?” 

“No! It’s because he has big arm muscles!”

She shows me how big with her own arms. Somehow, she has become a shallower person at six years and one week than she was at six.

“But he’s not your boyfriend. Because of Jack.”

“Jack?”

“Your husband?”

“Jack isn’t my husband! He’s my friend.”

“I thought he was your husband. Remember? First he was your fiancé?”

“Oh, right. But now he’s only my friend.”

“Why? Is it so Ben can be your boyfriend?”

“No! Ben can’t be my boyfriend. He’s married.”

Pause.

“Can I be married to both of them?”

“No, you can’t!”

Pause.

“I can’t keep one a secret and not tell anyone?”

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So much for the morals of a six-year old.