“God is already in all things. I pray for the courage to seek, the wisdom to notice.”
by Gabrielle Poma, '21, MA '24, Writer and Editor for Presidential Communications
Earlier this year, I attended an Ignatian retreat called the 4 PM Experience, hosted by Christus Ministries and the Jesuits West vocations team. The name of the retreat and the theme—“Experience God surprisingly close”—drew inspiration from John 1:35-46: “So they went and saw where he was staying, and they stayed with him that day. It was about four in the afternoon” (John 1:39). In other words, the retreat was an invitation to us to explore a deeper friendship with a God who is already present in our lives.
The last page of the retreat booklet featured a list of small habits, add-ons to the rhythm of daily life, meant to build more intentional relationship with God and others:
“After I pour my coffee or tea, I will sit down and say a quiet prayer of gratitude.”
The last page of the retreat booklet featured a list of small habits, add-ons to the rhythm of daily life, meant to build more intentional relationship with God and others:
“After I pour my coffee or tea, I will sit down and say a quiet prayer of gratitude.”
I can do that.
“After feeling stressed or anxious, I will close my eyes and take seven deep breaths.”
That’s a good idea too.
“After I wake up and put my feet on the floor, I will say: ‘Good morning, Jesus. It’s going to be a great day with you.’”
Umm, what? That sounds kind of silly. Who’s doing that? What, exactly, does that add to your day?
But for a few weeks after the retreat, I tried it, if only to be a little contrarian and prove the habit ineffective. My alarm started its gentle chime, and I rolled over, clumsily grasping for my phone in the dark. Then, after a few beats of grogginess, mild denial, and growing consciousness, I sat up and slipped out of bed.
"Okay, Jesus," I thought to myself with mild self-consciousness, toes curling into the carpet as I stretched my arms above my head. "I’m awake. It’s going to be a great day with you…I think. I hope."
I did this every day, an earnestness growing with each morning I repeated the ritual. "Good morning, Jesus. I got enough sleep, and I’m getting dinner with friends tonight. I think it’ll be a good day. Well, however the day goes, you’re with me."
Almost inevitably, as I flexed this muscle more and more, I found myself chatting with Jesus throughout the day. My constant internal monologue now had a conversation partner. "Jesus, I think my stress at work is putting a strain on my relationships." "Jesus, I need to have a frank conversation with a colleague, and I don’t know how to approach it." "Jesus, I want to be better about remembering what a blessing it is to live in such a beautiful place."
It felt a lot like prayer.
Too often, I’m guilty of forgetting that “finding God in all things” isn’t a pithy catchphrase. It’s a dynamic statement, a challenge just as much as it is an invitation. “Experiencing God surprisingly close” requires noticing that God is surprisingly close.
Slowly and imperfectly, I’ve grown in my awareness that everything is touched by God. A meeting that could have been an email. A vibrant sunset. A “Let’s grab dinner” text. Every mundanity is a moment of grace.
God is already in all things. I pray for the courage to seek, the wisdom to notice. To find.
“After feeling stressed or anxious, I will close my eyes and take seven deep breaths.”
That’s a good idea too.
“After I wake up and put my feet on the floor, I will say: ‘Good morning, Jesus. It’s going to be a great day with you.’”
Umm, what? That sounds kind of silly. Who’s doing that? What, exactly, does that add to your day?
But for a few weeks after the retreat, I tried it, if only to be a little contrarian and prove the habit ineffective. My alarm started its gentle chime, and I rolled over, clumsily grasping for my phone in the dark. Then, after a few beats of grogginess, mild denial, and growing consciousness, I sat up and slipped out of bed.
"Okay, Jesus," I thought to myself with mild self-consciousness, toes curling into the carpet as I stretched my arms above my head. "I’m awake. It’s going to be a great day with you…I think. I hope."
I did this every day, an earnestness growing with each morning I repeated the ritual. "Good morning, Jesus. I got enough sleep, and I’m getting dinner with friends tonight. I think it’ll be a good day. Well, however the day goes, you’re with me."
Almost inevitably, as I flexed this muscle more and more, I found myself chatting with Jesus throughout the day. My constant internal monologue now had a conversation partner. "Jesus, I think my stress at work is putting a strain on my relationships." "Jesus, I need to have a frank conversation with a colleague, and I don’t know how to approach it." "Jesus, I want to be better about remembering what a blessing it is to live in such a beautiful place."
It felt a lot like prayer.
Too often, I’m guilty of forgetting that “finding God in all things” isn’t a pithy catchphrase. It’s a dynamic statement, a challenge just as much as it is an invitation. “Experiencing God surprisingly close” requires noticing that God is surprisingly close.
Slowly and imperfectly, I’ve grown in my awareness that everything is touched by God. A meeting that could have been an email. A vibrant sunset. A “Let’s grab dinner” text. Every mundanity is a moment of grace.
God is already in all things. I pray for the courage to seek, the wisdom to notice. To find.