The Power of Imaginative Prayer

I sincerely enjoy hosting other writers as they share their words in this space.  Today, I’m happy to introduce my friend Traci Rhoades as she shares a personal experience involving imaginative prayer.  Traci has been a great source of encouragement to me as a writer, and I’m honored to share her story here today.

At the teacher’s request, we closed our eyes and settled into our chair. There was a time of silence. For nearly a decade, I’d prepared myself for moments like this one, learning and unlearning how to sit in a posture of silence. What it felt like to still the mind, and open up to receiving something spiritual without physically experiencing it.

I was distracted. Not necessarily an altogether new reaction. I’ve experienced that hindrance numerous times in this quest. If you’ve tried it you know, clearing the mind can be harder to accomplish than one can think.  

This time, the distraction was a cute, young blonde. Seated beside me, I peeked out the side of my eye at my daughter, who followed the instructions as well. The last time we’d sat by one another in silence, we were among the Quakers in an unprogrammed worship service. She had distracted me that time too.

As a mother, I desperately long to offer her these spiritual experiences. At times, I felt like church, our religion, me personally, kept throwing various things at her, hoping something would stick. Where were the guarantees I thought came with raising a child up in the way they should go? 

An Example of Imaginative Prayer

After a brief introduction to the concept of Imaginative Prayer, a style of prayer attributed to St. Ignatius of Loyola, a Jesuit, in our minds, we traveled to a park. There was a bench with a man seated on it. Nothing particularly notable about this man who sat calmly on the bench. He didn’t call out to us as individuals. The park is quiet. Everything in this moment is an invitation to sit down beside this man. As you do, he offers his full attention, and it feels like the most loving gesture you have ever known. You’re not sure how much time passes by because time matters less now than it did when you were consciously going about your day, checking off a to do list. 

What is your reaction in this moment? How are your emotions? Pay attention to your breathing. Do your senses experience anything in this imaginative exercise. Do you have anything you’d like to say to this man?

Dear Jesus….

After spending some time in this moment, we’re asked to open our eyes. We discuss the experience as a group. Later, as we’re headed into Mass, my daughter divulges more about her encounter. This is common, she prefers a smaller audience when it comes to conversations of the heart. 

“Mom, that was a really neat exercise,” she said. “I’ve never done anything like that, where I just imagined myself sitting in the presence of Jesus.”

Prayer With Fewer Words and More Connection

I thought of all the times I’d sensed Jesus right there next to me. Not once has he spoken out loud to me, but countless times, I’d sensed a nudge from him, a word to travel with me during seasons of life. For years, I’d walked in the blessed assurance of his love. Although unique in some ways, this imaginative prayer exercise hadn’t felt that new to me.

Yet. It was new to her. What a gift this season of faith has been to me. Learning how to go beyond the spontaneous prayers of my evangelical church experience. Encountering the formal prayers of the church. Discovering I could pray with fewer words, and more intentional connection through mind and spirit. Inviting my senses to journey with me. This, this too is prayer.

Meet Traci

Traci Rhoades is an author, Bible teacher, and wellness educator who sees our bodies as sacred temples, meant to reflect God’s glory, just as grand cathedrals do. Some of her greatest passions include church unity, helping others find a deeper connection with God, and frankincense. She lives in the greater Grand Rapids, Michigan area. Connect with her on social media as @tracesoffaith. Her two books include Not All Who Wander (Spiritually) Are Lost and Shaky Ground: What to Do After the Bottom Drops Out.