Entering the Story: How to Pray with Your Imagination
Amy Boucher Pye
13 min read ⭑
An injury left him bedridden, and with the days stretching into the nights, he turned to the only two books he had, one on the life of Christ and the other on the lives of saints. He wished he could read the stories that he usually preferred of noble knights and their conquests. He read and reread the books he was given, and when the reading became monotonous, he started to place himself in the stories. He’d alternate between imagining himself fighting a dastardly villain to protect the honor of a fair maiden and becoming one of the crowd following Jesus, watching in amazement as Jesus released a man suffering from demon possession. During the bedridden man’s confinement, his imagination sparked to life, giving him a creative outlet and a shape to his days.
Allef Vinicius; Unsplash
But he soon realized that his imaginings left him in different emotional states depending on which stories he entered—those of the royal court or those of Jerusalem and the surrounding areas. When he imagined himself the conqueror of battles, wielding his sword, he enjoyed the immediate intrigue but felt empty afterward. Yet when he imagined himself following Jesus, witnessing his healings and learning from his teaching, he felt inspired to give of himself. To serve others, putting their needs before his own. He realized that through this imaginative exercise, Jesus’ teaching entered his heart and soul more deeply than it had before.
I’m speaking of Ignatius of Loyola (1491-1556), whose leg was shattered by a cannonball in battle. During his recovery he discovered the benefits of imaginative prayer using the gospel stories; he filled three hundred pages with his many notes on the life of Christ through placing himself into the gospel narratives. This type of prayer later formed an important part of Ignatius’s program of spiritual exercises for the men in his care. These were the first Jesuits, a Roman Catholic order that continues to this day, and gospel imaginative prayer (which I’ll also call gospel contemplation) helps many people not only get in touch with buried memories and emotions but also deepens their faith in God.
Desire + the Holy Spirit = Transformation
Entering into a gospel story with our imaginations opens us up to the work of the Holy Spirit in different ways than when we rely on our rational minds. Receiving a truth directly, such as when someone speaks it to us, can be painful, and we might erect barriers to guard against hearing it. In contrast, when we use our intuitive and imaginative senses, we don’t seek to control how we're praying. We can let our imaginations roam, asking the Holy Spirit to guide and guard us. By doing so we tune in to what Ignatius called “felt inner knowledge”—what we know through our hearts, not our heads; inner knowledge that is unique to us and known by God.
When we unearth our desires with the help of the Holy Spirit, we can be changed. We come to know what we’re feeling and therefore understand ourselves better. God reveals our hidden feelings that we may have buried out of pain, shame, or negligence. As they are unearthed, we can move closer to God, speaking to him about what's going on in our hearts and minds and then listening for his response, the creative words that affirm our true selves. The wisdom and understanding we glean will be more intimate and profound than something another person teaches us.
The change comes through an encounter with the risen Christ, he who with the Holy Spirit lives and dwells within us. For in this type of prayer, we shift between engaging with the historical Jesus and the risen Christ. At one moment we ponder the man as we find him in the gospel story, and in the next, he comes alive as a living presence while we converse with him. He touches our desires, concerns, and fears as he reveals what may have been unknown to us. This movement between history and mystery is a prime gift of gospel contemplation.
We encounter the risen Lord through conversation with him, which can come at any point as we’re contemplating the gospel story. This time of discussion will probably be the most profound part of the exercise and might have a prophetic element as God touches us by his Spirit. How people converse will vary from person to person, with some enjoying a quieter contemplative approach and others having a more back-and-forth conversation. What’s important is that we remain open to receive whatever God gives us. And, of course, that we discern whether what we hear is truly from God.
“But What about Me, Lord?”
One of the first times I tried out this style of gospel contemplation, I had been learning about Ignatius as part of some academic study. I longed that my studies wouldn’t be just an intellectual pursuit, but that through them I’d encounter God. So one morning I put aside my assigned reading and followed Ignatius’s instructions in his Spiritual Exercises for this kind of prayer.
Before I share that experience, a few comments. One is that I feel vulnerable in sharing, for the exercise brought up some buried feelings that were hidden for a reason! You’ll see that I interacted with the story by writing it out, but that’s my personal preference and isn’t required with this kind of prayer. Also, I'm including the text from Scripture as well as my engagement with it to illustrate how I interacted with God, because this dialogue with God—what Ignatius called a colloquy—is a key part of the prayer exercise. Thus I’ve included not only my prayers and thoughts but also how I sensed God replying in those moments.
Discerning whether I’d actually heard God would be something I’d test out after the exercise.
The gospel story that I focused on was the foretelling of Jesus’ birth as the angel Gabriel spoke to Mary in Luke 1:25-38:
“The Lord has done this for me,” [Mary] said. “In these days he has shown his favor and taken away my disgrace among the people.”
In the sixth month of Elizabeth’s pregnancy, God sent the angel Gabriel to Nazareth, a town in Galilee, to a virgin pledged to be married to a man named Joseph, a descendant of David. The virgin’s name was Mary. The angel went to her and said, “Greetings, you who are highly favored! The Lord is with you.”
Mary was greatly troubled at his words and wondered what kind of greeting this might be. But the angel said to her, “Do not be afraid, Mary; you have found favor with God. You will conceive and give birth to a son, and you are to call him Jesus. He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High. The Lord God will give him the throne of his father David, and he will reign over Jacob's descendants forever; his kingdom will never end.”
“How will this be,” Mary asked the angel, “since I am a virgin?”
The angel answered, “The Holy Spirit will come on you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. So the holy one to be born will be called the Son of God. Even Elizabeth your relative is going to have a child in her old age, and she who was said to be unable to conceive is in her sixth month. For no word from God will ever fail.”
“I am the Lord's servant,” Mary answered. “May
your word to me be fulfilled.” Then the angel left her.
Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. You looked at the world, filled with so many people, and those sinning so much. And you decided in your time—you who see and fill all time—that Jesus would become human to save the human race. Jesus would become man. And in the fullness of time, you sent the angel Gabriel to Mary.
Ignite my imagination so that I can see this happening, Lord. To compose this scene. To see the round earth with its many different races and the particular house of Mary and its rooms in the town of Nazareth in the province of Galilee.
Lord, all of those races and times. All of those people. And there in the Holy Land, the Mediterranean world, is Mary. She’s in her house—she’s young. Are her parents around? Siblings? Is she alone? I’ve never thought about that—does Gabriel visit her with others around?
It’s probably hot. Dusty. The sun is piercing, and she takes shelter inside.
And now, Lord, I ask for what I want—I ask for knowledge inside, interior knowledge, the gaining of insight and imagination from you who became human for me so that I may better love and follow you. Please, Lord, grant this movement inside of me by your Holy Spirit.
When Elizabeth is six months pregnant, you send Gabriel to Nazareth in Galilee. Little Galilee, often scorned. You send this angel to a young woman who is pledged to be married to Joseph. She’s going about her daily chores, not aware that this day will change her life—and the universe.
Gabriel comes to Mary and says, “Greetings! You’re highly valued! God is with you!”
Mary’s stomach fills with anxiety at the sight of this angel. What kind of greeting is this? she wonders. Indeed, who is this, and why does he say that God is with her?
The angel says, “Don’t be afraid! Don't fear! You've found favor with God. God’s pleased with you! You're going to conceive and give birth to a son. You're to call him Jesus.”
Mary is incredulous at his words. She tries to take it all in.
“He’ll be great and will be called the Son of the Most High. The Lord God will give him the throne of his father David, and he'll reign over Jacob's descendants forever. His Kingdom will never end.”
Mary can’t fully grasp what the angel says. Her son, the Son of the Most High? The king who takes over the throne from King David? He who will reign over Jacob’s offspring? The Kingdom that will never end? It’s all too much, and she squeaks out a response:
“How can this happen? I’m a virgin, you know.”
“The Holy Spirit will visit you. The power of God—the Most High—will overshadow you. The holy one born will therefore be called the Son of God. Here's something to help you believe—a miracle. Your relative Elizabeth, who has been barren all of these years, will have a child in her old age. She who everyone thought could never conceive is in her sixth month! No word from God will ever fail. You’ll understand this when you see Elizabeth, full of new life.”
Mary believes his words, or at least she wants to believe. She responds, “I'm the Lord's servant. Let it happen to me as you say."
And the angel leaves her.
Lord, I’m there at the scene. I can see that I’m Mary’s sister and not Mary, for often I feel that the good stuff happens to other people. As the sister, I watch Gabriel come and speak to Mary. Part of me wants to be very happy for Mary, Lord, but part of me wants to yell and scream and ask why I can’t be the one entrusted with a big gift. Why can’t I have a big vision?
Why, Lord? Why don’t you choose me? Why do I feel sidelined?
Beloved. I do choose you. I am not sidelining you. You feel overlooked. Even now, you feel like the sister who was silent and alone. The one disappointing your parents when they had to focus on others. But I was there with you, child. I wasn’t overlooking you. I was seeing you.
Will I ever be Mary, Lord? Will I be the one entrusted with a big vision?
Child, I live in you. Jesus is born in your life. So much more than you can know. God is at work in you. The offerings you make are how I am born in your life. Know that there is safety in being hidden. I see you. I love you. Just follow me and know my love. That is enough. Trust me to do with your work what I will; trust me to take your seeds that you scatter and cultivate them in my Kingdom. I will guard those that I choose from the scavenging birds and the scorching sun. I will keep them from the encroaching weeds. This is my work, not yours. Rest in my love and know that I am with you.
“God through Jesus and the Spirit showed me my desires to be seen and heard, to make an impact with my writing and speaking. In unearthing these feelings, he assured me that he always saw me, that he was my main audience.”
I moved through this exercise with tears when I sensed that I didn’t need to feel sidelined and that God saw me, his touch reaching a tender place within me. His love assured me that I was valuable to him. I also understood that I didn’t need to worry and fret over how people would receive the stuff I produced, for God would be the one to plant and water the seeds. If and when some of those seeds died, I was not to concern myself unnecessarily.
My time with this gospel story shows how I started off by following the Scripture text closely and not adding too much imaginative detail. Only after I worked through the text did I allow myself to picture myself in it, as Mary’s sister. Then I got in touch with the deep emotions of feeling overlooked and sidelined, and as I gave those emotions to God, he spoke to me tenderly and lovingly.
God through Jesus and the Spirit showed me my desires to be seen and heard, to make an impact with my writing and speaking. In unearthing these feelings, he assured me that he always saw me, that he was my main audience.
He also provided a gentle corrective when I realized that I shouldn’t be caught up in engineering a platform for my work; he would use it as he wished. I began to trust him more fully as I focused on sowing seeds and not on comparing myself with others or obsessing about my number of social media followers.
A few years after this experience, I’d forgotten what happened during the prayer time. In thinking about the exercise, I remembered that I had placed myself in the story of Mary and Gabriel, but only in trawling through my journals could I recall my feelings of being overlooked and my desires to be a main character in the story. Because God released me from the power of those feelings, I forgot them as I went about my daily life.
Limits and Fears
What could go wrong with gospel contemplation? Some Christians criticize imaginative prayer, saying that we are fallen and prone to errors and thus shouldn’t trust our imaginations. The fear is that we’ll "conjure up” something and attribute it to God. But although our imaginations can be overtaken with unhelpful images, we shouldn’t let a fear of misinterpretation keep us from embracing this practice. We have the Holy Spirit to guide us, and we will find it most helpful to share what we experience with trusted friends who are mature in their faith. We need God’s help in discerning not only this type of prayer but in using our reason to apply the Bible to our lives.
Others fear that a wrong view of God can distort imaginative prayer, such as if we see God as an angry despot, an uncaring creator, or a demanding father. Although these views of God will limit the exercise, this sort of prayer can actually be an antidote to the problem. When we reflect on the prayer exercise with a person we trust, we might begin to understand how we perceive God—and why. Our views can come out into the open instead of being buried and potentially exercising an unseen influence on us.
Prayer Practice: Entering a Biblical Scene
Why not give it a go? Following are instructions to put yourself in a gospel story or one from the Old Testament. To imagine more easily, choose a story with action instead of one that focuses on Jesus’ teaching. If you’d rather start with a guided example, skip to the next section.
Get comfortable and still yourself, asking God to help you shut down any distractions coming your way. Invite him to work through your imagination, that his Holy Spirit would fill you and direct you. That he would prevent anything from interfering that is not of him so that you enjoy freedom in the exercise. During your time of prayer, you might want to open your hands as a sign of receptivity.
How you enter the story depends on your preferences. For instance, if you can picture things visually, you might want to imagine that you're making a film. Or you might want to consider what sounds you would hear—the roar of the waves or the murmur of the crowd. Perhaps you do your best imagining through feeling the emotions, such as the incensed rage of the religious leaders or the desperation of the bleeding woman. Pay attention to the details—the sights, sounds, tastes, smells, and emotions. As you lose yourself in the story, meet Jesus there.
Remember that the aim is to encounter Christ, so try not to get distracted over the historical details—let God take your imagination to reveal something about yourself or him. And know that exercising your imagination takes practice. It might not come naturally at first, but through persevering, you’ll find yourself more able to engage. Most importantly, remember that God is with you—ask him through the Holy Spirit to guide you and spark your imagination. And know that God will honor your preferences and your personality as he meets with you.
Read through the Bible text a couple of times until you’re familiar with the story. You might want to record yourself reading the story so that you can imagine freely while listening. Let the scene build up in your mind’s eye and take time to see what is surrounding you, to hear any noises, to feel, taste, and smell. What is around you—where are you? Who else is there? What do you see and smell? What noises are in the house or on the street or wherever you are?
Who are you in the unfolding scene? You may start as a bystander, or you may be one of the central characters, or perhaps you play the role of yourself in the story. You may struggle here a bit, not feeling that you fit in. Know, however, that many different types of people may simply not be mentioned in the biblical text—women, children, onlookers, shopkeepers, and so on. Feel God’s invitation to enter into the action.
Let yourself be drawn into the story naturally as you talk with Jesus or another character. What’s the mood? Joyful or tense? Confused or angry? Hopeful or quiet? Something else? As you observe the emotional state of those in the story, also note your emotions. How do you feel?
As you contemplate the story, you may wish to ask yourself the questions Ignatius posed:
What have I done for Christ?
What am I doing for Christ?
What ought I to do for him?
Stay in the story as long as you choose to. Move into a time of talking to Jesus about what happened as you prayed and what feelings came up. If it’s been difficult, express that. You may wish to ask him to reveal why it’s been hard. As you come to the end of your time, commit yourself to God, giving thanks for his grace in your life.
You may want to write down some feelings, thoughts, and reflections after your time of prayer, noting how you experienced meeting Jesus and what you learned about yourself.
Here are some passages suitable for imaginative prayer:
Matthew 14:22-33 (Peter walks on the water)
Mark 10:46-52 (The cure of Bartimaeus)
Luke 5:1-11 (Jesus calls three disciples)
John 13:1-17 (Jesus washes the disciples' feet)
Exodus 3:1-6 (Moses and the burning bush)
1 Samuel 3:1-10 (The call of Samuel)
Amy Boucher Pye is a London-based author, speaker, retreat leader, and spiritual director. She’s the author of six books, including Transforming Love: How Friendship with Jesus Changes Us and 7 Ways to Pray. Her first book, Finding Myself in Britain, won the Christian living book of the year in the UK. She also writes for Our Daily Bread and is part of the God Hears Her community.
Taken from 7 Ways to Pray by Amy Boucher Pye. Copyright © 2021. Used by permission of NavPress.
