In 2020 The Catholic Reading Challenge is reading 24 different short stories by 12 different authors. Each month we will focus on one author, reading two stories by that author. At the end of the month we will discuss both stories in a single podcast episode.
*Note the new format of only one podcast episode at the end of the month. Enjoy the stories for this month!
Much of my writing stems from an internal call I’ve been hearing the Holy Spirit speak to my own heart. Lately, His still small voice has been reminding me what it is that I’m actually called to in daily life, and that is faithfulness. When I hear that reminder, it feels like a soothing balm to a soul that can quickly become infected with an external pressure toward perfectionism. By perfection, I’m not talking about the biblical call of Christ to “be perfect…as your heavenly Father is perfect” (Matthew 5:48); because we know by that our Lord means for us to surrender our weakness to the power of His strength and grace, which will be made perfect in us (2 Corinthians 12:9).
I’m talking about a mindset that measures success—in all areas of life—by whether or not my responsibilities have been done exactly according to an objective standard and process of human perfection. Self is savior where the perfectionist mindset takes root. Such a mindset is the antithesis to which the Father calls His children, for it moves us away from relying on His will and His gift of grace by which we are able to accomplish our work.
A heart aimed at the goal of faithfulness, rather than perfection, is daily in tune with the voice of the Father. Our God is never saying to us, “Perform, impress, excel, earn my love.” Instead, His call is to “rest, obey, listen, love, surrender, give, receive.” We serve a faithful God who calls us to a life of daily faithfulness. I emphasize “daily” because I believe that God is only ever asking us to live one moment at a time.
In fact, faithfulness has everything to do with the present moment, not all of the possibilities coming down the line. We see this truth echoed again and again in the lives of the saints. These faithful men and women kept their eyes on Jesus in the present moment. Certainly, they brought Him into plans for the future; but they didn’t live consumed with what was coming next. They lived day-by-day, knowing well that they were not promised tomorrow and that today contained enough with which to occupy oneself (Matthew 6:34).
If we are to be faithful stewards to our Lord, and experience His peace in that endeavor, then we must walk ourselves back to living more in the present moment. I think that when we do this, we are much more inclined toward His plan, rather than our own. We are able to let go of all expectations that we place upon our own shoulders. We simply ask, “What have you given me to do today, or in this moment, Lord?” He will reveal it. We may need to apply the process of discernment and quiet listening to His direction. Living moment-by-moment with our faithful God, we become more faithful. As we are being transformed, we more readily recognizing the contrast between a faithful life and one imprisoned in the confines of perfectionism:
God is only asking us to be faithful with the specific task He means for us to do in the present moment. We will realize peace and contentment when we surrender to that act for love of Him and place the result in His hands. We are only asked to be faithful with what we have to give; our faithful God is in charge of the rest. We will certainly have days where we fail, when we listen to the wrong voice and fall prey to the desire to control. Thankfully, our God’s faithfulness is steadfast (as we are told repeatedly throughout the Psalms), and He never fails us. His mercies are new every morning (Lamentations 3:22-23). We are called to faithfulness, not perfection. Let us walk in that calling; and may that truth pull a burden off our shoulders and put a peace-filled smile on our faces.
I recently read Josef Pieper’s Leisure: The Basis of Culture. It had been on my list for a while, and it’s one of those rich classics that immediately gets you asking yourself, why did it take me so long to read this?! I regularly find myself considering the implications of his central theme: we are made to be contemplative beings, people poised in a posture of wonder as we continually ponder God and ultimate reality—the most real, most essential things. In short, he describes “leisure” as the space that we cultivate—physical, mental, spiritual—to live in a way that allows such ongoing contemplation and wonder.
In considering these thoughts, it is apparent to me how totally opposed life in the modern world is to this posture of contemplation. Our greater American culture is one of consumption; we consume products and people in an effort to ever increase our position in society to consume to a greater extent. Work and busy activity is unending, and true leisure is scarce. We live in a world that makes it hard to establish the space necessary to experience wonder; and if we do occasionally pivot to a contemplative stance, it is something that seems impossible to maintain. So often, this cultural description is the same for Catholics and other Christians, who have to actively reject the culture of consumerism and intentionally foster contemplative lives.
Pieper describes what is required in order to live in wonder. He says, “The really human thing is to see the stars above the roof, to preserve our apprehension of the universality of things in the midst of the habits of daily life, and to see ‘the world’ above and beyond our immediate environment” (p. 122). This means that we have to find a way of living in the world that does not interfere with our contemplative stance, with our ability to “apprehend” the universal things of greatest importance to us as human beings.
We need to be people that marvel at truth, beauty and goodness as we live in each moment of life and accomplish daily tasks. We must experience wonder not in spite of the experiences of everyday life and the world around us, but because of how we have positioned ourselves within the world and within those experiences. Pieper says that “the deeper aspects of reality are apprehended in the ordinary things of everyday life and not in a sphere cut off and segregated from it…” (p. 129).
With that in mind, have we positioned ourselves well? Are we able to live in a state that cultivates wonder, to take a contemplative stance? Can we say that we have set ourselves up to apprehend truth, beauty and goodness in all of the moments of our day?
Or, have we failed to intentionally choose to be contemplative beings? Have we drifted with the current of our consumer culture, feeling the constant drive to accumulate and become more, rather than the freedom to bask in the leisurely rest of wonder—a wonder that only grows the more we saturate ourselves in it?
I would offer a quick examination for assessing how well we are doing at living in wonder:
These questions may help us start to assess the kind of lives we are living and what changes will need to take place for us to live in wonder. The more that we learn about God and the world he created the more we are aware of how little we actually know, which gets to the point of wonder, the point of a contemplative life. The end of wonder and contemplation is not the discovery of all the answers and the resolution of mysteries—quite the opposite. Living in wonder provides the constant reminder that we are finite, and God is infinite; that we can do so little, and He hung the stars. Wonder leads to love.