Imagery

Have you ever prayed without words? … It’s an idea that I really hadn’t heard about until I was studying the life of C.S. Lewis and one of his letters mentioned the practice briefly. The idea tickled me funny at first. Ever since, I have been occasionally praying stuff without saying stuff. It’s really quite interesting. I just ask God to take control of my mind in communion with Him and show me—rather than tell me—what He’d like. Quite honestly, I feel like a whacko for writing this. But if you are reading this, you have put up with my absurdity so far. These aren’t prophecies or dreams, or really anything except holy daydreaming. I can control where my mind goes and it’s more like I’m watching a movie in my mind. Yet, I feel the emotions. I can hear the words. I can see the details. Maybe I am just more bored than usual. Regardless, I find that God communicates better by showing me rather than telling me. Maybe that’s why Jesus used so many parables. The following are a few images I saw in prayer that shook me to the core.  Read them if you’d like. I can’t promise it won’t be a waste of your life.

·         I saw myself on a sailboat in the middle of the ocean. The water was calm and I couldn’t see anything no matter where I looked. But I understood that this water was God’s grace, and I was lost in it. The good thing about being lost at sea is that you can’t see what’s behind you. All your past history and mistakes are no longer in your vision. The challenging thing is that you can’t see what’s ahead or where you’re going. All you can do is trust the wind to push you where it wants to. Sometimes the wind is calm and serene and sometimes it’s pushing you faster than you are comfortable. Regardless, I knew I was heading towards a certain place. I knew that my destination was my home. I knew my home was the land of my King. I longed for it. It’s like a place you would find painted in the Chronicles of Narnia. I have never seen it, but I know it’s there (despite what I feel sometimes). Also, I could picture others who were still in the dock, afraid to set course. They wanted to be safe. They felt too connected to the past. They wanted to know exactly where they were going. They wanted to make sure they had enough supplies and comfort to get there. But yet, they sat there at the dock… just floating. I knew, however, that boats weren’t meant to sit at the dock. They were meant to go somewhere. The words “Let’s risk the ocean. There’s only grace.” sang in my mind. This image is super similar to one of my favorite blog posts and an analogy I keep coming back to. You can find it here.

·         I saw myself at my work place, walking in to my office. It was dimly lit and people were working as usual. Then, I opened my mouth. Effervescent light radiated out and pierced through the darkness. It was a light that was not my own; it came from a different source. Initially, everyone turned to see the interruption. Some scattered, having had their biggest flaws exposed. Others hid their face. Still, others turned and gazed, curious at what was happening. The light, which started as a beam, began to expand and consume the room. It would collide with those it touched and increase around them. I could see pieces of their lives all over the floor. In the darkness, they had tried to clean it up. But without light, they could not see and simply bumbled around making things even worse than before. Yet now, the light showed all the obstacles in their path. The light revealed the problems. Now, being able to see by the light, they could pick up the pieces of their lives, put things in order, and begin to do meaningful work. I understood this light as the Word of God.

·         I saw myself in a bible study. I was leading it. As I spoke, the words condensed into script in the middle of the air. The script then turned into butterflies. The butterflies floated and lofted through the air. The butterflies then landed on the noses of all who were listening. It grabbed their attention. The patterns of the butterfly wings seared into their mind. They were mesmerized and convicted. Some felt a wince of pain as they saw what was wrong in them. Others felt delight as they felt the glory of God.

·         It was windy and rainy out, and a stranger was stumbling through the weather. They came up to the front door of a house. The light on the front porch welcomed them. They opened the door and fell inside. They didn’t care if anyone was home; they needed a refuge. Inside stood Rachel and I. We were delighted to see them, and welcomed them as if we had been expecting them all along. We took of the stranger’s soaked cloak off and sat them by the fire. We served the stranger warmed food that delighted their tongue and warmed their belly. Rachel noticed their wounds and began to pour peroxide on the bloody crevices. It stung; the stranger flinched. It was similar to the scene in Beauty and the Beast (and Rachel was as beautiful as Bella of course). I understood that the wounds weren’t physical, but spiritual. They had been inflicted over the stranger over a lifetime, and they bled constantly without stop. We were healing them. Though painful, the stranger was relieved to find the wounds healing quickly. Afterwards, the stranger took a hot shower and put on a fresh outfit. The outfit was soft and warm. While I was seeing the image, I could almost feel it. It was as if the stranger was clothed in relief. If felt like they were as light as air. After the stranger rested, he joined us at the table where we all laughed vigorously and had a raucous time playing cards and enjoying conversation.

·         I could see the inside of a restaurant. It had the look of the Krusty Krab from Spongebob Squarepants. Rachel and I were in the kitchen, working laboriously with a smile on our face. We were making muffins and people were lined up outside the ordering window, grabbing their fill, and leaving. Flour was everywhere; it was a mess. I could see myself, sweat on my brow, thinking “This is really hard work! But it is most certainly worth it!

·         I could see the sun poke through the leaves of an evergreen tree. Water droplets began to fall off the prickly branches. These droplets weren’t just water, but I understood them as little pieces of God’s love. The droplets began accumulating and streams began to form. The water picked up, and the noise began to grow as quantity and motion increased. Soon, a huge wave was barreling down the mountainside towards a village of people. The wave collided with me, and I found myself thrown about and confused. Soon, my head surfaced and I was delightfully paddling behind the brink of the wave. The wave collided with the people of the village. Some people, grabbed on to the ground. They did not want to leave the earth. They did not want to leave their comfortable lives. They were content to sit on the bottom with the rocks and trees. Others floated effortlessly to the top, where they rode along the wave with joy. There were no people in the middle of the wave, for the motion of the water prevented anyone from being in between. Some tried to drag others with them to the top, but the one’s they held would not let go of the earth. Some, having realized that their time was running out, let go off the bottom and joined the others at the top. It was a day of rejoicing for those enjoying the ride and a day of mourning for those who never let go. Coincidentally, this image came when the song How He Loves was playing.

These are all images that came to mind in prayer. I can’t say that they are theological or factual. I can’t prescribe some 5 step method to how to pray without words. I can’t even say I was praying. All I can tell you is that it felt like I was there. The detail was so real. All I know is that I was spending time in God’s presence with my mind open and my heart untethered.