What Is Contemplative Prayer

(And Why It Feels Different)

Many people hear the words contemplative prayer and feel unsure.

Is it meditation?
Is it emptying the mind?
Is it only for monks or mystics?

Most women I work with are curious about contemplative prayer but also hesitant. It feels unfamiliar. And unfamiliar things can feel unsafe when faith has been built on certainty.

Contemplative prayer is not about learning something new.
It is about unlearning effort, becoming comfortable with silence and waiting.

At its core, contemplative prayer is consent to presence. It’s coming back to the safe space of knowing we are ALWAYS held by God, and already in God’s presence.

It is choosing to sit with God rather than speak at God.
To listen rather than explain.
To be rather than do.

This can feel strange at first. Especially if you were taught that prayer must include words, requests, or structure. Silence can feel awkward. Even unsettling. If you are like me you may have been given formulas by well-meaning people showing you the “right way” to pray. Growing up I was very earnest in my faith and wanted nothing more than to please God, to feel close to Him. I thought the only legitimate way to do that was to use these formulas, use more words, spend more time. As I entered into midlife these paths felt more and more empty and incomplete. I craved a new way to engage with the Holy, and I discovered silence and contemplative prayer as an ancient spiritual practice.

But silence is not empty.
It is full of attention.

Contemplative prayer has deep roots in the Christian tradition. Long before modern productivity culture shaped faith, people prayed by resting in God’s presence. They trusted that connection did not depend on constant speech.

In my own life, contemplative prayer became a lifeline when words stopped working. I had prayed every prayer I knew. I needed something deeper.

I began with just two minutes of silence. I set a timer. I sat. I breathed. I noticed my body. I let thoughts come and go without chasing them. It was hard and awkward, but I also sensed a settling within myslef, a deep invitation to enter into a holy place with God.

Some days it felt peaceful. Some days restless. Some days nothing at all.

And that was the practice.

Here is a simple way to try contemplative prayer.

Sit comfortably. Set a timer so you can just be present without worrying about time.
Close your eyes if that feels safe.
Choose a simple word like “Here” or “Peace.”

As you breathe in, silently say the word.
As you breathe out, release it.

When your mind wanders, gently return to the word.
No judgment. No force.

Stay for two to five minutes.

That is enough.

The fruit of contemplative prayer is subtle. You may not feel anything dramatic. But over time, you may notice a quiet steadiness. A softening. A sense of being held rather than striving.

This is why contemplative prayer feels different.
It does not ask you to produce connection.
It invites you to receive it.

If you long for prayer that meets you where you are, contemplative practice may be the doorway you’ve been waiting for.

If you long for a companion on this journey, feel free to reach out to me about one-on-one spiritual direction. I’d be honored to walk with you on this path as you unfold.