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When was the last time you found yourself lost in a daydream? You know what we mean: you catch yourself staring at the ceiling or out the window, your mind miles away and your eyes fixed on some distant point, drifting off into the infinite.

It happens all the time. After an intense stretch of studying or work, for instance, when your brain has had enough, you look up and your mind wanders somewhere else entirely. You start thinking about plans with your friends, things you’re worried about, ideas that came out of nowhere. Your body may be here, but your head has left the building.

And we’re surrounded by those vacant stares. We look without really seeing, because inwardly we’re somewhere else altogether. And yet our inner eyes are fixed on something. The question is: are we aware of what’s occupying our attention in those moments?

Sometimes we drift off because were too caught up in what others think of us, or because we’re afraid to face what’s right in front of us. Other times it’s pressure, self-doubt, or fear that make us disconnect: am I doing this right, will that person remember me, am I falling behind in life. It can also be plain boredom making us want to escape, if only mentally, into something more interesting. So it’s worth asking what it is that makes me want to switch off.

For the apostles, according to the Acts of the Apostles, what left them “looking intently up into heaven” was the Ascension of Jesus. And no wonder! After everything they’d been through (the cross, the resurrection, their doubts, wavering faith...) they find themselves with Him once more. Jesus speaks to them one last time and gives them an enormous mission: to be his witnesses “to the ends of the earth.”

What is it that makes me want to switch off?

And while they’re still trying to take in those words, Jesus ascends. The book of Acts tell us that “a cloud hid him from their sight.” The disciples are left in shock, staring up at the sky, trying to make sense of what just happened. Then two angels appear and shake them out of their bewilderment: “Men of Galilee, why do you stand here looking into heaven?”

Because the Ascension is not an ending; it’s a sending-out.

Peter and the others might have felt like Jesus was leaving them on their own again. But in reality, something new was beginning. And He sends you and I out too.

It’s as if Jesus were telling us today, “Stop getting stuck in your own head. Bring your gaze back down to your reality, the concrete things you have in front of you: a difficult assignment, a conversation you’ve been putting off, a commitment you find hard to keep, a person who needs your attention...”

The Ascension is not an ending; it’s a sending-out. And He wants to send you out too.

“Why do you stand here looking into heaven?” It’s a timely question, because we often go through life distracted by our own inner world, while the present slips away. And God is waiting for us there, in the ordinary present moment.

St. Josemaría put it very simply in The Way: “Do you really want to be a saint? Carry out the little duty of each moment: do what you ought and concentrate on what you are doing” (no. 815).

That’s exactly what the apostles did. After that jolt, they stopped standing still and staring at the sky, and they got moving. Throughout Eastertide, we read at Mass how Peter, Paul, and the first Christians began to transform the world from where they were, without putting off God's call.

That’s what the Ascension inaugurates: a Church that’s sent out, never paralysed.

And so an important question arises for prayer: where do I need to get moving? What have I been putting off for too long?

If you’re not sure where to start, here’s an option: think about your responsibilities today; the thing you know, deep down, that God is asking of you as a son or daughter, friend, student, worker, boy- or girlfriend, brother or sister... The word “responsibility” might not sound especially inspiring. But holiness almost always starts with living the present well.

Holiness almost always starts with living the present well.

St. Josemaría put it clearly: “You shouldn’t be so easy on yourself! Don’t wait until the New Year to make your resolutions. Every day is a good day to make good decisions. Hodie, nunc! — Today, now!” (The Forge, no. 163).

When you wait for the perfect moment, it usually means that you never start at all.

And St. Josemaría talks about the New Year, but we could just as easily fill in the blank with “tomorrow,” “Monday,” “after exams,” “when I feel more like it,” or “when I’m in a better place.” But God is acting now.

Our Lady is the finest example of this. After the angel’s announcement in Nazareth, she could have frozen there, overwhelmed by everything that lay ahead, worrying about how to explain it to Joseph, how to prepare for it all, how her life would change. The Gospel describes something very different: “Mary arose and went with haste.”

That’s the key: not getting trapped in endless thoughts, not living suspended in the clouds, not gazing up at the sky indefinitely, but lifting our eyes to heaven, and then bringing that gaze back down to earth, transformed. Ready to embrace reality, and to act.



“Open your eyes and look up!” is a five-part series. Expect a new piece for prayer every Friday.