Far too often, we find ourselves consumed by the future.
We become caught up in questions of what’s next, what’s coming, and what we should be doing tomorrow. Our minds race ahead, always a few steps forward, chasing fleeting glimpses of what lies beyond the horizon. We become wrapped up in dreams and plans, desperately trying to chart the perfect course toward success, fulfillment, or peace.
But in the process, we risk overlooking what’s right in front of us: the work already in our hands, the assignment waiting to be completed, the calling quietly whispering beneath the noise.
Our obsession with the future becomes a distraction.
It not only pulls us away from the present moment but also drags us into a space of anxiety, where we’re always reaching for something better, as if the next step holds the key to everything we think we lack.
But when I pause, still my mind, and pay attention, three things rise to the surface.
1. Growth Happens Now
Remember, growth doesn’t live in the future.
It happens in the present moment.
It happens now.
Faith and courage require us to root ourselves in the here and now, to show up fully to the tasks at hand, no matter how small or ordinary they may seem. They ask us to believe that meaning is not found in grand gestures or distant milestones, but in the quiet consistency of our daily commitments.
Even more, they invite us to trust that the next step will reveal itself, so long as we remain faithful with what’s been placed before us.
It’s easy to get lost in what could be, to feel the pressure of needing all the answers immediately, to mistake constant striving for clarity as progress. We chase visions of a perfected future, hoping they’ll rescue us from the discomfort of the unknown.
But the truth is, the path toward purpose doesn’t unfold through force or control.
It reveals itself slowly, like a steady stream that becomes a river, carving its way through the landscape of our lives. Its power is not in urgency, but in persistence, shaping us as we go, forming something deeper than we could design on our own.
When we give our full attention to what’s in our hands, at this very moment, we begin to notice the contours of that path taking shape.
Not all at once. Not with every answer.
But with one small, faithful step at a time.
2. Trust the Work You Hold
What’s in your hands right now?
What work have you already been entrusted with?
The answers might seem ordinary. Maybe it’s a project, a conversation, a quiet responsibility, or a fleeting moment of connection with someone in your life. But these seemingly small tasks are not detours.
They are roots. They anchor you to the present and form the foundation for everything still to come. They are the bedrock, the building blocks of the larger vision unfolding ahead.
So instead of chasing after the future, instead of leaping toward what you think should be next, what if you turned your full attention to the now?
What if you honored the work already in your life—the work already in your hands—even if it doesn’t shine, even if it doesn’t seem like it will lead anywhere extraordinary?
Often, our greatest transformations begin in obscurity. They start as seeds planted in hidden soil, growing in silence, gaining strength in the dark before they break open into bloom, right when we least expect it.
Let me be clear: this isn’t a call to abandon your dreams or neglect your vision for the future.
I’m not asking you to drift without direction.
I’m reminding you that the future is not forged by bypassing the present. It’s built here, in these moments that seem mundane, in the steady stitching together of time and trust.
Moment by moment, act by act, you’re crafting something lasting, a beautiful quilt of memories, hand-sewn through generations, each piece woven with intention and love.
3. Faithfulness Builds the Future
If you’re always looking ahead—fixated on the next thing, the next milestone, the next opportunity—you’ll miss the lessons, the invitations, and the growth quietly unfolding in this moment, right here, right now.
The future is not a distant destination you sprint toward.
It’s shaped by the care and attention you give to this moment. Think of yourself as a sculptor, standing before a block of stone. You don’t see the final form right away. You chisel away slowly, steadily, smoothing the rough edges of today. With each strike, each refinement, something beautiful begins to emerge, revealing itself across days, weeks, even years.
To be faithful to the present is to keep showing up. To do the work, to stay committed to the process, even when it feels monotonous, unclear, unremarkable.
It means tending to the garden of your life even in winter, when the soil is cold, and your hands ache from the effort.
It’s quiet work. Patient work.
The kind of work that looks like nothing is happening, until one day, when everything has changed.
It means trusting that the next step will come, not because you forced it, but because you honored the one you’re on.
You can’t skip the middle.
You can’t rush your way to depth.
You can’t fast-forward through your season of becoming.
The work you’re doing right now is not a waste of time. Even when the path ahead seems blurry, even when progress feels invisible, it’s shaping you.
Shaping you for what’s next, for what’s yours, for what’s true.
The stones you’re placing now will ripple outward, much further than you can see. And one day, when you pause to look back, you’ll realize that each step—every small, faithful act—was necessary. Each one was part of the unfolding.
So realize, the need to have it all figured out . . . release that.
Don’t be consumed by what’s next.
Return to what’s now.
Because the next step will come, not through worry, but through trust. Faithfulness to the present moment is how we grow. It’s how we build. It’s how we move forward with integrity.
Believe in the moment you’re living.
Trust the quiet work you’re doing.
Invest in the here and now.
The future is already being shaped by your presence.
Let the rest take care of itself.
In solidarity,
P.S. As always, thank you for reading this edition of Freedom Papers. If you found this piece meaningful, share it with a friend. If it moved you, consider supporting with a paid subscription or buying me a coffee. This creative exploration happens because readers like you believe words and stories matter.
Your support gives me the freedom to write from the heart.
So encouraging. So true. I am a future addict, for sure. It's where I escape when the present is too mundane, too boring, too hard. But it's a trap to fly away there. I am slowly, painfully, and soberly attending to the present as if it is precious, as if it is the future, as if it will birth the future, but like you described so well: "tending to the garden of your life even in winter, when the soil is cold, and your hands ache from the effort." And occasionally I notice little events, little successes, little normal easy miracles that would never have happened without my present work.
Thanks so much for this writing.
I love this; I live as much like this as I can, and the older I get, the more important it has become. Thank you for sharing this beautiful message.