Keeping a state of constant vigilance in our lives

THIS is the lesson hidden in Christ’s command to his disciples: “Watch therefore, because you do not know what hour your Lord will come.” (cf. Mt 24:42-51) It is one of those simple sayings that become more mysterious the longer one reflects upon them. We sleep not because night has conquered us, but because we have forgotten that dawn is always approaching.

Watchfulness is not reserved for days of sorrow or moments of extraordinary danger. It is just as necessary when fortune smiles and life seems comfortably ordinary. The battle for the soul never declares a truce. Only the careless imagine that peace means the war has ended.

Our nearest enemy is not far away at all. It is ourselves. We carry within us a strange contradiction: we desire goodness and yet repeatedly bargain with lesser things. The heart that longs for heaven can still be distracted by the nearest comfort, postponing virtue until tomorrow, as though eternity kept office hours.

Beyond ourselves stands the world, dazzling precisely because it mistakes glitter for glory. It offers pleasures that promise freedom while quietly forging chains. Modern inventions have multiplied conveniences beyond counting, but they have also multiplied distractions, making temptation travel at the speed of light while wisdom often continues its patient walk.

Nor should we dismiss the oldest enemy as an outdated superstition. Evil is most dangerous when it persuades us that it has retired. The devil does not usually arrive carrying horns but excuses. Being a spirit, he often understands our weaknesses better than we do, and he delights in turning our strengths into traps.

How then should we remain awake? Curiously enough, prosperity demands as much vigilance as adversity. When blessings abound, gratitude must grow even faster. Otherwise, comfort becomes conceit, abundance becomes forgetfulness, and gifts quietly replace the Giver in the affections of the heart.

Hardship, on the other hand, possesses a surprising privilege. Pain strips away illusions that comfort carefully preserves. If we immediately turn toward God instead of away from him, suffering becomes not merely something to endure but something through which grace quietly performs its astonishing work. The Cross remains the great paradox: defeat transformed into victory.

Such a vision saves us from bitterness. The Christian may suffer, but he need not despair. Hope is not the denial of pain; it is the refusal to grant pain the final word. The darkest valley is still crossed beneath the same heaven.

Then there are the ordinary days, which are perhaps the greatest test of all. Heroism is easier for an hour than fidelity for a lifetime. Routine can become either the workshop of holiness or the waiting room of mediocrity. The difference lies in whether love is deliberately renewed.

To remain spiritually alert, we must demand something of ourselves every day. Charity grows by exercise, not by accident. We keep its flame alive by remembering Christ’s sacrifice, noticing our neighbor’s needs, and performing ordinary duties with extraordinary love. Great saints are often those who refused to waste small moments.

Scripture never tires of repeating this lesson. St. Paul urges us to stand firm in faith, be courageous, and let everything be done in love. Christ himself adds the indispensable secret: “Watch and pray.” He knew that the spirit is willing while the flesh remains unreliable.

Spiritual watchfulness, therefore, is not an emotion but a discipline. It grows through prayer, frequent examination of conscience, careful reading of the signs of the times, and an honest evaluation of our daily choices. Only then do we remain truly awake—not merely with open eyes, but with a heart ready whenever the Master knocks.