Praying with Yervand Kochar's "De Profundis"
Have you ever prayed from the depths of your soul? Yervand Kochar’s De Profundis gives shape to our cries of anguish, echoing the psalmist’s lament: “Out of the depths I cry to you, Redeemer.” In the shadows and in the light, we discover that even our deepest prayers are heard.
Psalm 130
Use this guide for prayer and contemplation. Read slowly, pausing as needed for silence and reflection.
Opening
Settle into a comfortable posture. Let your shoulders soften.
Take a slow breath in, as though you are drawing in the sustaining breath of God. Then let it go gently.
Slow yourself down. Open your spirit to what God has for you this day.
Reflection on Contemplative Prayer
There are days when the only prayer you have is a cry from deep within you: “God, listen to me.”
As you pray today, let an image carry that cry for you. Imagine what it might look like to paint yourself speaking those words—body, breath, and heart reaching toward God. Sometimes suffering can feel like constriction—like there is nowhere to turn, nowhere to go, and no escape.
In contemplative prayer, you do not have to tidy your words. You can bring the truth of your depths. God is not daunted by such honesty.
Scripture
Psalm 130:1–4 (The Inclusive Bible)
Out of the depths I cry to you, Redeemer! God, hear my voice. Let your ears be attentive to my voice, my cries for mercy. If you kept track of our sins, Redeemer, who could stand before you? But with you is forgiveness, and for this we revere you.
Holy Spirit, come close as we listen.
As you hold these words, let them meet the places in you that feel submerged. Let your cry be heard, and let forgiveness and reverence find you even here.
Artwork for Prayerful Reflection
As you gaze at this painting, let it become a place to pray.
Notice the figure—constricted within the confines of the scene, as though in a cell. See the bent head, the folded hands, and the dark emptiness around him.
Notice the light that comes from above, creating strong shadows. Notice the rock beneath the hands—like an altar, like a foundation when all else falls away.
Reflection Questions
What do you notice first as you look at this painting?
Where do you see suffering in the figure, the shadows, or the surrounding space?
Where do you sense a cry rising toward God—whether in posture, in silence, or in the feel of the scene?
What thoughts and feelings move through you as you stay with the work for a moment longer?
What moments or situations come to mind as you look—literal memories, symbolic places, or unnamed longings?
What do you need to express to God about these things, in your own honest words?
As you listen again to Psalm 130, what word or phrase begins to feel like God’s response to you today?
Where might the “rock” be for you right now—something steady enough to lean upon as you pray?
As you notice the light from above, what kind of hope, guidance, or simple presence does your spirit most need?
Closing
God of the depths, receive our honest crying out. When words fail and breath feels thin, hold us close. Let your ears be attentive to our voices, and let forgiveness and steady mercy meet us where we are. Give us light enough for this moment, and a rock enough to lean on. Amen.