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Johanna Stamps looks at the ancient practice and theology of living in the present moment to access more God-given peace. 

I wonder just how much of my life I’ve lived in my thoughts, strategies, wishes, or worries. This went to fever pitch as I was determined to — finally — discover my purpose. I know I’m not alone in this because as a life coach, I have the opportunity to walk with many others through this process. 

For many people, this can be one of the most agonizing and heartbreaking areas of life; it was for me. I was convinced, there was nothing worse than thinking that an alternate reality was out there waiting for me while I was stuck living a less-than-worthy existence. 

I wanted the vision. The plan. I wanted something clear to move towards, and I wanted assurance that what I was moving towards was the right direction. This led to a recipe for anxiety. I was constantly second guessing myself and looking towards something that didn’t yet exist. At its worst, I thought of the person I needed to become to fulfil this illusive purpose. 

The instruction came in triplicate over the course of one week. It was so clear I couldn’t just ignore what I was hearing. The idea is central to my faith but rarely talked about in the context of faith. We so often hear about “finding your calling,” and this concept often leads us far away from what God truly wants for us. 

Two books I was simultaneously reading echoed the same clear direction. The first instruction was from The Sacrament of the Present Moment by Jean-Pierre De Caussade. One of my favorite Chuck Taylor-wearing priests quoted the book in a homily, and I immediately went out to purchase it. The book is a collection of presentations made to a group of nuns in the 19th century. I wasn’t convinced that their experience would relate to mine, a first-time mom in the 21st century, but each line seemed to jump off the page. 

The will of God is manifest in each moment, an immense ocean which the heart only fathoms in so far as it overflows with faith, trust and love … It is in his purpose, hidden in the cloud of all that happens to you in the present moment, that you must rely.

 

I wanted this “immense ocean.” My life had become an arid desert, and I wanted so much more. The idea of “His purpose,” God’s purpose, seemed so much more practical. If He was asking me to surrender into His divine will, could I answer that call in my present moments? 

 

woman sitting at the edge of a river

 

The second instruction was from a posthumous book by Elizabeth Elliot, called Suffering is Never for Nothing. Elizabeth Elliot only passed away in 2015, and her life was a near constant balance of suffering and joy. I knew I could rely on her testimony, but it was perhaps the shortest line that said the most: “Do the next thing.” 

In your suffering, focus exactly where you are now and do what is in front of you. This seemed to be the modern day, to-the-point, instruction Jean-Pierre wrote about. If you reach too far out, you’re bound to get overwhelmed. God is with you now. He’s not in your fabrication of the future. 

The third and final instruction came while I was in a prayerful moment before the Eucharist. In the prayer for my intention, this message was written upon my mind: 

“If I wanted to tell you to do something don’t you think I’d make it crystal clear?” 

I was busy praying for my future, and God was busy connecting with me in the present moment. God doesn’t seem to lavish amazing grace onto my future. He lavishes grace directly into my present moment — if I let Him.

 

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Instead of hoping to receive grace in some future moment, I get to experience the grace being lavished upon me directly in this moment, doing the task at hand. #catholicmom

Before I experienced these three moments of instruction, I had been shy to take on the weight of the present moment. I heard people speaking about “being present” as a mother, and the realities of it seemed impossible. It felt like ignoring the rest of my life to just … be.

The idea, rather, that God wanted to give me infinite joy, peace, and love in that present moment flipped everything on its head. There was no alternate reality. As I walked close to God, I was walking in His divine will for my existence. If I left the present to strategize for the future, I would leave this divine will. I would miss the mysteries and glories all around me. 

Instead of hoping to receive grace in some future moment, I get to experience the grace being lavished upon me directly in this moment, doing the task at hand. Suddenly, taking care of my little one took on new meaning. Even the most ordinary moments became magical. 

Recently, I was preparing for a difficult conversation. In the past, this would have meant countless hours preparing the words and environment in my head. I would have taken hours away from my little one to write out my thoughts and rehearse what I needed to say. I realized there had been a significant shift when, one morning, my toddler was asking me to sit on the floor of the kitchen. My only role at that moment was to observe the slow consumption of a glass of water. And as I sat and watched, my mind was there — in the moment. There was no alternate reality; there was no internal chatter. There was just a heart of gratitude and a whole lot of giggling. 

How comfortable are you in this present moment?

Where is your mind in this present moment? What might change if you happen to connect with the present grace and receive it in all its abundance?


Copyright 2021 Johanna Stamps
Image: Toni Reed (2020), Unsplash