What Google Images Gets Wrong About Christian Prayer
- Elizabeth Zelasko
- Nov 28
- 4 min read
Why prayer isn’t supposed to look like panic — and how to rediscover its peace.
It was several years ago, so I couldn’t tell you now what I was working on when I went searching for reference photos of someone in prayer. I only remember typing something along the lines of “man praying on his knees” into Google. What came up genuinely startled me — image after image of people on their knees, grasping, begging and pleading in anguish.
I wasn’t looking for anguish; I wanted peace — a face at rest, a posture of someone held in the Father’s embrace. It wasn’t until I changed my search term to “meditation” that I finally found what I had been looking for, but the images were anything but Catholic.
Is this what the world thinks of Christians at prayer? Is that what they think we do when we pray?
Although this search was some years ago, I was starkly reminded of the occasion just last month. I was at morning prayer in the comfort of my home with my Magnificat on my lap. I was stating my intentions, calling to mind all those who might need prayer, and my thoughts naturally gravitated towards my teenage children.
“Jesus, please, please, please be with them. Protect them from all harm. Jesus, keep them close to you and the Church, always and forever, please Jesus.”
It was just then that he spoke directly to my heart, as he tends to do with us, that tender, inaudible but oh-so clear voice: “You do not have to beg me for this.” It was as clear as day and not my own thought, to be sure. There I was, pleading like a servant when I am a daughter of the King. Grasping, groping, begging.
I know — who can blame a mother these days? It’s easy to worry about our children, but God calls us to a surer footing. St. Paul put it well when he encouraged the Philippians: "Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God" (Philippians 4:6). I was no better than the stereotype I had dismissed years prior, and yet God was still there, ready to steady my feet on a healthier approach to prayer.
This stunning painting, La Religieuse (The Nun) by Henriette Browne, speaks exactly to the posture of prayer and contemplation that my heart desires to imitate.
The atmosphere in this image is tangibly silent. The surrounding darkness draws our attention to the nun’s serene, downward gaze — first to the white wimple of her habit, and then back to her peaceful, contemplative face. She is not lost in idle thought. The painter reveals her focus by showing us her finger resting on the place where she left off in her prayers. We can easily imagine something unexpected from the text struck her, and it was enough to close the book for a moment and think about it. Or perhaps it is the part of her prayer where she names her intentions and makes her petitions known to the Father. She is peaceful in this moment of reflection. She will return to prayer and know exactly where she left off when the time comes, but she is in no rush to get there — we can see the grace and power of her habit of prayer. All is well in her soul in this moment. There is not an ounce of anxiety to be found in her.
In a world that grows increasingly loud and seems to grasp for attention at every turn, silence is the pearl of great price to be sought after and defended at all costs. This painting raises the question: when do I make time to pray in quiet, like this? Every day? Sometimes?
Maybe the answer is not as often as I would like (read: never), but I have big plans to start one of these days. Christ is calling us and waiting for us.
What would it look like to pray in silence, just for a minute? How would it feel to be able to pray in peace? To pray like the sons and daughters of the King that we are, who have nothing to worry about and no need to beg our petition?
Jesus himself reminds us: “Which of you, if your son asks for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a snake? If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in Heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!” (Matthew 7:9-11).
He is holding this gift out to us freely; all we have to do it receive it.
As we step into Advent and mark the new year, let this painting remind us of the powerful posture of prayer we’re invited to take. May this season help us cultivate a prayer life that shifts our hearts from anxiety toward stillness, meditation and deep contemplation.
