You are being invited into a direct, inner experience of God’s Presence—one that goes beyond words, beyond learning, beyond thought.
There’s a line in the lesson that says today is a day of silence and of trust. That it has been marked by Heaven. That same feeling echoes through the Psalms when the world is trembling and the invitation comes not to run or fight, but simply to be still. “Be still and know that I am God.” (Psalm 46:10.) These words carry a stillness that speaks to something already known inside you.
Lesson 157 says we’ve spent long days and nights celebrating death. And something in that hits deep. All the ways we lean into fear, defend against love, rehearse stories of loss and suffering. But today is different. Not because anything outside changed. Today is different because we’re willing to see what’s always been true.
Isaiah speaks of strength in a way that feels deeply familiar. “In returning and rest shall ye be saved; in quietness and in confidence shall be your strength.” (Isaiah 30:15.) A kind of returning that brings steadiness and breath. Returning to where you were never really away from. That’s the flavor of this lesson. A turning back inward. A remembering. It comes in the gentle way of things remembered.
When Moses was exhausted and unsure, he told God he couldn’t move forward unless he knew the path was held. And the answer he received was simple and enough. “My Presence shall go with thee. And I will give thee rest.” (Exodus 33:14.) This is the promise of today. You are not alone. You don’t need to find the way. You are already accompanied by what is Holy.
And maybe the deepest truth is the one Jesus gave the Pharisees when they asked when the Kingdom would come. He said it’s not something to observe. It doesn’t arrive with fanfare or signs. The Kingdom of God is within you. (Luke 17:21.) Always has been. Always will be. The Course turns your attention inward, where what you’ve been seeking quietly waits.
When the lesson speaks of entering into Christ’s Presence, it’s not telling you to imagine someone walking toward you from far away. It’s inviting you to enter the room you’ve been in all along. It’s the quiet room behind your thoughts. The space behind your eyes. The warmth behind your breath. For a moment today, you may catch a glimpse. You may not see a figure. You may feel a light that knows you. A love that isn’t asking anything from you. A stillness that’s been waiting without impatience.
This is not the kind of experience you explain. You live it. Then you carry it with you in your hands, in your eyes, in the way you move through a world that no longer feels quite so sharp. The Course says that from this day forward, your presence will bless. It isn’t something you do. It’s something you carry, because you remembered.
And when the memory fades again, as it will, the verses will still be here. The stillness will still be here. The Presence will still be here. So will we.
