Ruth lives in two places, and neither of them is Houston.
She is sixty-four. Her husband, Samuel, died in the winter of 2021, in a hospital ward she was not allowed to enter. They had been married thirty-eight years. She said goodbye to him on a nurse’s tablet, and she has replayed that call more times than she can count.
Most mornings Ruth wakes up in the past. She sits with her coffee and looks through photographs on her phone: the wedding in Port Harcourt, the first apartment in Houston, Samuel laughing at a church picnic. She rereads his old messages. She thinks about the things she should have said.
Most evenings she lives in the future. She worries about her pension, about her blood pressure, about who will look after her if she falls. She worries about her son, David, who stopped calling after an argument at the funeral and has not called since. She pictures conversations with him that have not happened and may never happen.
In between, the actual day slips by. The neighbour waves and Ruth does not notice. The ladies from church invite her to lunch and she says maybe. The tomatoes Samuel planted in the back garden ripen and fall. Ruth is not lazy and she is not faithless. She is grieving, and grief has carried her away from the one place where God meets us: now.
The Gift Called Now
Being present in the moment means focusing on what is in front of you, rather than on what has already happened or on what may happen later. When you allow yourself to be robbed of the present, a strange thing happens. The past becomes your present, and the future is never reached. Worse, the present itself is lost for good, and you lose all the way round.
It is right to learn from the past. It is right to set expectations for the future. But neither can be done well if the expectation for today is not fulfilled. The future is reached only by passing through the present.
Scripture is full of the word now. “Save now, I beseech thee, O LORD: O LORD, I beseech thee, send now prosperity” (Psalm 118:25). “Now the God of peace be with you all. Amen” (Romans 15:33). “Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen” (Hebrews 11:1).
Read that last verse slowly. Faith is not described as something you will have one day. Now faith is. Faith lives in the present tense. It takes what you hope for in the future and gives it substance today. That is why expectation and presence belong together. An expectation that is never acted on today is only a daydream about tomorrow.
Jesus taught the same truth: “Take therefore no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof” (Matthew 6:34). He was not telling us to stop planning. He was telling us to stop carrying tomorrow’s weight with today’s strength.
Three Things to Consider
The first edition named three things that help us live in the present. They are even more needed today.
1. Conscious awareness of the status quo. The beginning of enjoying the present moment is recognizing that you are alive, awake and able to make sound decisions. This is the most important factor in recognizing your expectation and the right time to act on it. You cannot steer a car if you do not know where it is on the road. Paul wrote, “Therefore we are always confident, knowing that, whilst we are at home in the body, we are absent from the Lord” (2 Corinthians 5:6). To be at home in the body is to be where you actually are. Paul knew exactly where he stood, and he was confident there.
What has changed since the first edition
In the first edition, the questions at the end of this chapter asked whether you attend parent-teacher meetings and go on holiday with your family. Those are still good questions. But being present has become harder in ways I could not have described then.
The pandemic taught millions of people to live in suspended time. For months, sometimes years, we waited for life to resume. Plans were postponed, then postponed again. Many of us never fully came back. We learned to hold our breath, and some of us are still holding it.
Ruth Comes Home to Today
Ruth’s turning point was not dramatic. Her friend Mabel from church stopped asking her to lunch and simply came over one Saturday with a casserole and a pair of gardening gloves. They spent the afternoon in Samuel’s garden, picking what was left of the tomatoes.
That evening Ruth did something new. Before she opened her photographs, she wrote three lines in a notebook: one thing she saw today, one thing she did today, and one thing she was thankful for today. The first entry read: Mabel came. The tomatoes are still good. Thank You, Lord, that I am still here.
Dig this week
- Each evening this week, write three lines: one thing you saw, one thing you did and one thing you are thankful for today.
- If I catch myself replaying the past or rehearsing a worry, then I will stop, name three things I can see around me, and ask God, “What is mine to do now?”
- Make room as if it is coming: accept one invitation you would normally turn down, or offer one to someone else.
Questions to ponder
- Where do you spend most of your thinking time: in the past, in the future or in today?
- What is one memory you keep replaying? What would it take to set it down, even for a day?
- What worry about the future keeps you from acting today?
- In the last month, when were you fully present with someone you love? What made it possible?
- Do you have a goal you are working on right now? What did you do for it today?
More questions for small groups are in the book.
Lord, You are the God of now. Bring me home to today, show me what is mine to do in it, and let Your peace be with me in this present moment.
How ready are you for what you are expecting?
Score yourself on all eleven elements in about two minutes. You will see where to dig first.