What remains when everything else is stripped away? In Christ in the Wilderness by Ivan Kramskoi, Jesus enters the desert in silence and vulnerability. In conversation with A.J. Sherrill, we explore how contemplative prayer and subtraction open us to God’s presence.

In Ivan Kramskoi’s Christ in the Wilderness, we encounter Jesus not in triumph or teaching, but in stillness. The desert surrounds him with silence and exposure. There are no crowds, no miracles, no words—only the long, quiet work of preparation. Before beginning his ministry, Jesus enters a place of subtraction, stripping away everything except God.

In this episode of Art and Prayer, Rob McPherson is joined by A.J. Sherrill—pastor, author, and guide of contemplative pilgrimage—as they reflect on how the wilderness forms us. A.J. speaks candidly about how contemplative prayer often begins not with spiritual ambition, but with failure, suffering, or the moment when our illusions of control fall apart. The desert, he reminds us, is not about punishment or heroics, but about becoming honest—about what sustains us and what does not.

Drawing on the wisdom of the Christian contemplative tradition, A.J. describes prayer as a movement from doing to being, from striving to abiding. Like the mystics before him, he names how God is encountered not through performance or productivity, but in quiet attention and surrender. The divine life, he says, already dwells within us, waiting to be discovered as we slow down and listen.

Midway through the episode, viewers are invited into a time of guided prayer with Kramskoi’s painting, shaped by Meister Eckhart’s words: “To be full of things is to be empty of God. To be empty of things is to be full of God.” As we sit with Christ in the wilderness, we are asked to notice what has been stripped away—and what remains. Vulnerability, longing, presence, love.

As Lent begins, this episode offers a gentle invitation: not to attempt heroic spiritual feats, but to practice “micro silences”—small moments of stillness woven into ordinary days. In the wilderness, Christ prepares not by grasping for strength, but by consenting to dependence. And there, in the quiet, God is already present.