BROTHER LAWRENCE

BROTHER LAWRENCE QUOTES

The time of business does not with me differ from the time of prayer; I possess God as peacefully in the midst of my kitchen duties as I do upon my knees before the Blessed Sacrament. He is always near, and I speak to Him continually, no matter what I am doing.

We ought not to grow weary of doing even the smallest things for the love of God. When done with Him in mind, even the turning of a loaf or the scrubbing of a pot becomes holy.

He does not ask great things of us, only that we remember Him often, speak with Him simply, and offer our hearts with humility. A glance toward heaven, a quiet word of love, these are enough.

I turn my little omelet in the pan for the love of God, and afterward, if there is nothing else to do, I prostrate myself in worship before Him, who gave me the grace to make it. It is enough to serve with love, even in the kitchen.

A SCENT FROM THE GARDEN

The most holy and necessary practice in our spiritual life is the presence of God. That is, to find joy in His divine company and to speak humbly and lovingly with Him in every moment. It is a mistake to think that prayer is confined to closed doors or appointed times. I make it my business to rest in His presence even while working, whether I am stirring a pot or sweeping a floor. My heart remains with Him, and I have learned that a simple inward glance to God is worth more than long-winded prayers offered without love.

We must accustom ourselves, by degrees, to this quiet conversation with God. At first, it may feel awkward or forced, but over time, it becomes a joy, a deep peace that no earthly care can disturb. Do not tire yourself with long devotions. Rather, offer yourself to God throughout the day by lifting your heart to Him, asking for grace, thanking Him for small mercies. In this way, every task becomes sacred, and your soul remains in continual communion with your Creator.

I gave up all forms of spiritual striving that were not grounded in love. I simply resolved to make it my constant practice to turn inward and speak with God as often as I could. Whether walking, working, or resting, I found no difference, God was always near. I kept myself in His presence by gently lifting my heart toward Him, and when I forgot, I did not condemn myself. I simply returned, as a child returns to a father’s arms.”

“The soul that learns to dwell in God’s presence finds a quiet joy that nothing can steal. Troubles may come, distractions may press in, yet beneath it all is a stillness, a refuge. I do not pretend to be perfect in this, but I have found that the more I surrender, the more I rest. His love is constant, and His companionship is enough, for the kitchen or the chapel, for days of sorrow or delight.

KITCHEN MONK FOUND HEAVEN IN POTS & PANS

Tucked behind the stone walls of a quiet Carmelite monastery in seventeenth-century Paris lived a man who never preached a sermon, neither traveled far, or sought a name for himself. Yet his life continues to ripple through the centuries like sunlight on water. He was known simply as Brother Lawrence. He did not wear the robes of a scholar, nor held the pen of a theologian. His pulpit was a kitchen, his audience a handful of fellow monks, and his message was astonishingly simple: God is with us. Always. Everywhere.

Born Nicolas Herman around 1611, in a small village in Lorraine, France, he grew up poor and with a heart full of longing. As a young soldier, he once stood gazing at a barren winter tree, stripped and lifeless. Yet in that moment, he saw something beyond the frost. He saw promise, new life waiting to burst forth. That quiet revelation gripped him. If God could work such wonders in a tree, what could He do in a human soul?

After the war and a short time working as a servant, he entered the monastery in Paris. There, Brother Lawrence was not given a lofty post. He was assigned to the kitchens, where he peeled vegetables, washed dishes, and scrubbed floors. Later, when his legs grew too weak, he mended sandals. Within those humble walls, he discovered a secret that would one day fill books and hearts around the world.

He began to live as though God stood beside him in every task. God remained beside him stirring soup and scrubbing pans. His soul became anchored in delight while on duties.  He spoke of friendship and love between God and him, not so much discipline.

And others noticed, that there was something unshakable about him. A joy that did not flicker. Although not eloquent, people came to him for counsel, because he was real. He would tell them, gently, “The time of business does not differ with me from the time of prayer.” Whether on his knees or on his feet, he remained in God’s presence, like a child with his Father.

One of his friends, a retired abbot, began writing down their conversations. These small notes would become The Practice of the Presence of God, a book as modest as the man, yet as deep as eternity. It has never gone out of print.

Brother Lawrence lived through pain, illness, and obscurity, yet never grew bitter. When near death, he said he was not dying for the first time, but had been practicing it daily for years. Dying to self, living for God. He welcomed the end with peace, having walked in heaven long before he entered it.

He died in 1691, quietly, as he had lived. No monuments were built, and fanfare followed. And yet his life has become a beacon for every weary heart who longs to find God not only in cathedrals and mountaintops, but in the quiet hum of daily life.

Brother Lawrence taught the world that holiness does not dwell in grand acts, but in humble love. He showed that the soul can walk with God even when the hands are busy and the mind is burdened. He left behind a legacy of quiet splendour. A reminder that the presence of God is not reserved for abfew, but offered freely to the lowly, the unseen, and the faithful who simply turn their hearts toward Him in love.