Imagination as a Path to God
When I was five years old, I created an imaginary friend to keep me company during long summers at my grandparents' house, where there weren’t many other children around. Years later, I immersed myself in the mysteries of Trixie Belden and Nancy Drew, imagining I was uncovering clues and solving crimes in the woods surrounding my suburban Louisiana home.
Why share these slightly embarrassing childhood memories? Because they hold the key to my initial attraction to Ignatian spirituality. My imagination — once a tool for adventure and companionship — became my doorway into prayer.
St. Ignatius also had a vivid imagination — one he relied on before, during, and after his conversion. While recovering from an injury he sustained in battle in Pamplona, he spent countless hours daydreaming about winning the heart of a Spanish noblewoman through acts of chivalry. During that time, he was given two books: The Life of Christ and The Lives of the Saints. As he read, his daydreams began to shift. Inspired by the stories of St. Francis and St. Dominic, he started to imagine how he might outdo even the saints in their holiness.
This man, with such a rich inner world and a powerful imagination like mine, felt familiar. Relatable. Ignatius quickly became my saint, and I began a personal quest to learn all I could about him and the spiritual tradition of the Jesuits.
As I explored Ignatian spirituality, two practices profoundly shaped my life. The first was Ignatian Contemplation — placing myself into a scene from Scripture. I remember imagining myself sitting at the Last Supper beside Jesus, listening as he spoke words of love and promise to his friends. I could see the look of concern on his face. I could feel the hardness of the bench I sat on and the table beneath my hand. I could smell the yeast from a piece of broken bread that had been passed around. In that room, I became a friend and disciple, too. This is a scene I return to again and again when I want to be in the presence of Jesus. I never expected that imagination itself could be a path to God.
The second practice is Spiritual Conversation. For Ignatius, this was not casual talk about religious topics but a purposeful, grace-filled exchange that could lead to spiritual growth, encouragement, and transformation. It involves listening with care and speaking with intention, rooted in awareness of the present moment.
In my role as Formation Coordinator on campus, I organize a weekly spiritual conversation group. For one hour each week, faculty and staff pause during their busy day to open their hearts and minds to God’s presence and to one another. This practice cultivates a deeper sense of shared mission and belonging. As we share our struggles and triumphs, we grow into a more connected and spiritually grounded community.
Taking time to be truly present and listen attentively to another person has changed me. The regular practice of spiritual conversation has helped me become a better listener to my friends, family, colleagues, and even my students.
Looking back, I see the same imagination that once kept me company as a child now draws me closer to Jesus and into a richer spiritual life. In Ignatian spirituality, I discovered that imagination is not just play. It is prayer, presence, and a path to God. And through the gift of spiritual conversation, that same presence comes alive in community, where listening and sharing become pathways to grace.
Why share these slightly embarrassing childhood memories? Because they hold the key to my initial attraction to Ignatian spirituality. My imagination — once a tool for adventure and companionship — became my doorway into prayer.
St. Ignatius also had a vivid imagination — one he relied on before, during, and after his conversion. While recovering from an injury he sustained in battle in Pamplona, he spent countless hours daydreaming about winning the heart of a Spanish noblewoman through acts of chivalry. During that time, he was given two books: The Life of Christ and The Lives of the Saints. As he read, his daydreams began to shift. Inspired by the stories of St. Francis and St. Dominic, he started to imagine how he might outdo even the saints in their holiness.
This man, with such a rich inner world and a powerful imagination like mine, felt familiar. Relatable. Ignatius quickly became my saint, and I began a personal quest to learn all I could about him and the spiritual tradition of the Jesuits.
As I explored Ignatian spirituality, two practices profoundly shaped my life. The first was Ignatian Contemplation — placing myself into a scene from Scripture. I remember imagining myself sitting at the Last Supper beside Jesus, listening as he spoke words of love and promise to his friends. I could see the look of concern on his face. I could feel the hardness of the bench I sat on and the table beneath my hand. I could smell the yeast from a piece of broken bread that had been passed around. In that room, I became a friend and disciple, too. This is a scene I return to again and again when I want to be in the presence of Jesus. I never expected that imagination itself could be a path to God.
The second practice is Spiritual Conversation. For Ignatius, this was not casual talk about religious topics but a purposeful, grace-filled exchange that could lead to spiritual growth, encouragement, and transformation. It involves listening with care and speaking with intention, rooted in awareness of the present moment.
In my role as Formation Coordinator on campus, I organize a weekly spiritual conversation group. For one hour each week, faculty and staff pause during their busy day to open their hearts and minds to God’s presence and to one another. This practice cultivates a deeper sense of shared mission and belonging. As we share our struggles and triumphs, we grow into a more connected and spiritually grounded community.
Taking time to be truly present and listen attentively to another person has changed me. The regular practice of spiritual conversation has helped me become a better listener to my friends, family, colleagues, and even my students.
Looking back, I see the same imagination that once kept me company as a child now draws me closer to Jesus and into a richer spiritual life. In Ignatian spirituality, I discovered that imagination is not just play. It is prayer, presence, and a path to God. And through the gift of spiritual conversation, that same presence comes alive in community, where listening and sharing become pathways to grace.
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