In a previous post, I explored Brother Lawrence’s timeless spiritual classic, The Practice of the Presence of God. But like many sacred texts, this book rewards a second reading—and a second reflection. This time, what struck me most was how Brother Lawrence’s approach aligns not only with Christian mysticism, but also with insights from psychology, especially cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT), Stoicism, and even Buddhism. That intersection fascinates me.

It’s remarkable that across such diverse traditions and disciplines, we find a shared wisdom: we can reframe our thoughts, shift our focus, and cultivate peace by attending to a higher reality. Brother Lawrence offers us an example of how to do just that.

“Brother Lawrence saw nothing but the plan of God in everything that happened to him… Even when told of some great evil in the world, he would simply raise his heart to God, trusting that He would work it to the good of the general order.”

This is reframing at its most profound. Rather than allowing fear or outrage to take root, Brother Lawrence elevated his perspective. He believed that whatever came—joy or pain—was an opportunity to trust in the divine will. And that trust yielded peace.

But this raises an uncomfortable question: does it matter whether the belief is true if it brings comfort?

In purely utilitarian terms, one might say no. If the goal is happiness, then any belief that fosters comfort might be considered worthwhile. But for those of us who value truth, the goal must be more than psychological relief. We want to anchor our lives not just in what feels good, but in what is good.

This is where Christianity and Buddhism, while different in theology, often converge in practice: cultivating peace by surrendering self-focused control. CBT teaches us to reframe irrational or harmful thoughts; Brother Lawrence does the same, but with a radically theological bent—he reframes everything in light of God’s goodness.

He talks during the book… about not being hard on yourself. If you fail, just accept it and begin again. Don’t let failure rob you of your joy. Again, a principle echoed in CBT and mindfulness-based therapy: notice the thought, let it go, return your attention to what matters. No guilt spirals, no endless self-flagellation—just return. In Star Wars terms, this is more Yoda than Anakin. Clarity, not control. Presence, not panic.

Habits and Holiness

Brother Lawrence speaks often of habits. For him, practicing the presence of God is exactly that: a practice. It takes time, intention, and repetition. At first it’s hard, but eventually it becomes natural.

“It is necessary to form the habit of continually talking with God through each day.”

Modern psychology concurs. Neural pathways are forged by repetition. The Stoics knew it, the Buddhists taught it, and now neuroscience confirms it. Habits shape the mind—and therefore the soul.

And when you fall out of practice? Don’t be harsh. Don’t give up. Just begin again.

Knowledge and Truth

One of the most striking quotes from Brother Lawrence struck me as a quiet bombshell:

“God alone is capable of making Himself known as He really is; We search in reasoning and in the sciences, as in a poor copy, for what we neglect to see in an excellent original.”

It’s a bold assertion—that truth, in its purest form, is not ultimately found in science or philosophy, but in communion. That’s not to devalue reason, but to point out that science once existed as a means of understanding God’s handiwork. Now, all too often, it is used to erase the need for a Creator altogether.

It’s worth pondering: are we seeking truth, or just control disguised as knowledge?

Love in Action

Perhaps the most radical aspect of Brother Lawrence’s vision is how he understood love—not merely as emotion or action, but as presence. Loving God meant loving neighbor. And vice versa.

“Since loving God and loving one’s neighbor are really the same thing, Brother Lawrence regarded those around him with the same affection he felt for the Lord.”

In a politically divided world (his and ours), Brother Lawrence transcended nationalism, tribalism, and partisanship. He saw himself as a citizen of heaven. He loved without condition, across lines of ideology and identity.

“He was equally loved by those who had different inclinations… His views were not limited by time, because he contemplated nothing but the Eternal One.”

Imagine if the Church reclaimed that vision—if we saw people not as enemies to defeat, but as souls to be cherished. If we stopped shouting, “You’re going to hell!” and started living lives of such radiant love that people were drawn to the God we claim to serve. If we reframed the entire project of Christian witness around love as presence, not just principle.

Toward Joy and Truth

Brother Lawrence’s life was not free from hardship. He was a wounded soldier, a humble cook, a man of no earthly importance. And yet, his joy was deep, his peace unshakable, his love infectious. He reframed his entire existence through the lens of divine love—and it transformed him.

“There is no sweeter manner of living in the world than continuous communion with God.”

This reminds me of another favorite work, The Book of Joy, in which Archbishop Desmond Tutu and the Dalai Lama reflect on suffering, hope, and happiness from Christian and Buddhist perspectives. While their theologies diverge, their practice of compassion, forgiveness, and gratitude echoes Brother Lawrence’s path.

In the end, we all face a choice: we can frame our lives around fear, guilt, anger, and isolation—or we can reframe our lives around trust, joy, and love.

I believe, with Brother Lawrence, that choosing truth doesn’t mean choosing despair. On the contrary: it leads us to a joy that neither sentimentality nor skepticism can offer. A joy that is not shallow optimism, but sacred presence.

Excerpt

Brother Lawrence reminds us that peace is found not by escaping life, but by reframing it. Drawing from spiritual practice and psychology alike, he shows how habits, love, and divine presence can reshape our reality—and lead us, gently, toward joy.