Make “one day” Day 1.
That quote from a homily by Father Mike Schmitz was proudly shared by one of my students during an Advent discussion. It resonated with many of us.
So often we think of changes we’d like to make. Sometimes we even go as far as sharing our hopes and aspirations with others. Yet, how often we – I, anyway – aim to begin to work towards these goals “tomorrow.” Advent always serves as a powerful reminder that we must not delay in readying our hearts for heaven. We cannot put off prayer, gratitude, good deeds, relationships, or personal wellness for some time in the future. We don’t know what the future holds, or when our time on this earth will end. As another student said, “Why wait to make a change?”
Every January as the calendar turns people discuss their resolutions for the new year. So many imagine that during the time between singing Auld Lang Syne and waking up the next morning, some type of eraser has wiped clean the slates of our hearts and habits. We will eat properly, exercise regularly, read more books, pray more often, spend less, drink less, and gossip less just because a new date appears on our desktops. If only it were so easy to discover and become the individuals God intends us to be!
In Advent, we were reminded that this life is like a desert: a seemingly barren place, waiting for the living water of Christ to bring forth blooms. Advent also reminds us that this desert is not negative if we seek to discover its potential for growth. As much as we would prefer to avoid difficulties and challenges, we need to enter this desert to find time alone with God, to grow in our knowledge of him and likewise to grow in knowledge of ourselves.
As a society, we are more impatient – more in need of the desert – than ever. In this world of instant gratification, many of us give up when things become difficult, or when changes don’t occur right away. Rather than succumbing to this throw-in-the-towel mentality, I resolve to be steadfast this year. I know that I cannot make radical changes overnight; I likewise know that, without God, I really cannot make purposeful changes at all.
During Advent, time in the “desert” allowed me to identify my greatest weaknesses and the areas I most want to change. It likewise allowed me to evaluate my strengths and seek ways to use these for good in the world. Thus, I begin this new year – 2023 (how can that be possible?) – without resolutions that I know I can’t keep, such as eating kale three times each day or even finishing Father Schmitz’s Bible in a Year in an actual calendar year. Kudos to those who have achieved each of these goals, but I know that they are not very probable for me right now. Instead, I aim to keep not only Christmas joy, but the focus of Advent alive in my heart.
I want to get in touch with what matters in life, without the distractions of possessions, busy schedules, and temptations. The desert teaches me about myself; furthermore, it prompts me to grasp God’s guiding hand as I journey.
Prayer is this guiding hand. By “prayer” I don’t mean formal prayers (although those are important, too); I mean actively talking to God and waiting in silence for inspiration, for comfort, for peace.
As Thomas Merton wrote, “If you want a life of prayer, the way to get it is by praying. We were indoctrinated so much into means and ends that we don’t realize that there is a different dimension in the life of prayer. In technology you have this horizontal progress, where you must start at one point and move to another and then another. But that is not the way to build a life of prayer. In prayer we discover what we already have. You start where you are and you deepen what you already have.”
This year, I plan to enter the desert each day. I will start right where I am and, in making “one day” Day 1 in terms of prayer, I trust that life is destined to bloom.
Happy 2023.
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