Awakening in the Present: A Dialogical Review of Just This
Introduction
In Just This: Prompts and Practices for Contemplation, Richard Rohr proposes a contemplative vision centered on “awe,” “awakening,” “nondual consciousness,” “suffering,” and radical presence in the “now.” The book is neither a systematic theology nor a technical manual of prayer; rather, it is a spiritual invitation. Rohr calls readers to relinquish control, suspend judgment, and inhabit reality as the primary locus of divine encounter.
This review engages Rohr dialogically. Each of his central themes will be briefly presented and then critically engaged from a broadly evangelical theological standpoint, particularly emphasizing revelation, Christology, and the role of the Holy Spirit.
Awe as the Beginning of Contemplation
Rohr opens with a foundational claim: contemplation begins in awe. Awe interrupts habitual consciousness—our constant analyzing, judging, comparing, and controlling. It “stops you in your tracks” and ushers the soul into simple presence. Contemplation, he suggests, is not discursive reasoning but “a different way of knowing,” a direct, loving gaze upon reality.
This insight carries genuine spiritual weight. Human beings often reduce faith to moral correctness or doctrinal precision. Awe destabilizes such reductionism. It exposes the limits of the ego and reorients the self toward receptivity rather than mastery.
Yet a theological question emerges: Is awe sufficient to ground authentic spiritual awakening? While awe may interrupt self-enclosure, it does not necessarily interpret itself. Without divine revelation, awe may devolve into aesthetic mysticism or vague transcendence. From a gospel-centered perspective, awe becomes transformative not merely because reality is overwhelming, but because reality is illuminated by God’s self-disclosure in Scripture and in Jesus Christ. Awe before creation finds its fullness when directed toward the Creator; awe before suffering becomes redemptive when interpreted through the cross.
Thus, while Rohr rightly identifies awe as an experiential threshold, evangelical theology insists that revelation gives awe its saving orientation.
Growing Up vs. Waking Up: The Question of Consciousness
One of Rohr’s most provocative distinctions is between “growing up” and “waking up.” A person may mature morally, psychologically, and religiously (“grow up”) without experiencing a fundamental shift in consciousness (“wake up”). Awakening involves liberation from the ego’s need to be right and from dualistic thinking that divides reality into rigid binaries.
Rohr critiques what he calls the “dualistic mind,” arguing that ego-driven certainty fuels division and violence. Awakening, in his account, entails a “nondual way of seeing”—a mode of perception that transcends oppositional categories and fosters compassion.
Here, the dialogical tension intensifies. Evangelical theology affirms the danger of self-righteous certainty. Indeed, history—both secular and ecclesial—demonstrates how the claim to moral superiority breeds conflict. However, Christian faith is not a rejection of truth distinctions. God remains the source and standard of truth; good and evil are not mere constructs of limited consciousness.
Theologically, the fall narrative suggests that humanity’s problem is not the existence of moral distinctions, but the autonomous appropriation of them. Human beings “decide good and evil” apart from God. In that sense, Rohr’s critique of ego-centered dualism resonates. Yet the solution is not merely a shift in awareness; it is reconciliation through Christ. Awakening, from a gospel perspective, is not only psychological expansion but spiritual regeneration. The Holy Spirit convicts of sin and illuminates the depth of divine love—dimensions that exceed contemplative self-observation.
Thus, while Rohr’s nondual emphasis can function as a corrective to self-righteous religion, it must be integrated with a robust theology of revelation and redemption.
Suffering and Surrender
Rohr presents suffering as a “necessary teacher.” Loss of control exposes the fragility of the ego and creates the possibility of surrender. Surrender, he insists, is not defeat but trust—“giving over” rather than “giving up.”
This framework aligns with widely recognized human experience. Even outside Christian faith, suffering often catalyzes maturity. It disrupts complacency and demands re-evaluation of priorities. Rohr’s insight that suffering confronts the illusion of control is psychologically astute.
Yet the theological depth of suffering cannot rest on existential realism alone. Without hope rooted in God’s sovereignty and redemptive purpose, suffering may just as easily produce bitterness as transformation. The gospel situates suffering within a larger narrative: God remains sovereign; Christ has entered human suffering; resurrection reframes despair. Trust, therefore, is not an abstract spiritual posture but confidence in a personal, covenantal God.
In this light, surrender is not merely acceptance of reality but participation in divine providence. It involves repentance, recalibration of desires, and renewed obedience. Rohr’s language of surrender becomes more theologically grounded when placed within this covenantal framework.
The Present Moment as the Place of Encounter
A central thesis of Just This is that the present moment is the only place where God can be encountered. We cannot meet God in nostalgia or in speculative futures; we meet God in the concrete now. “Just this” becomes both spiritual discipline and theological claim.
This emphasis is compelling. Christian discipleship is indeed enacted in present obedience. While memory of God’s past faithfulness and hope in future promise are indispensable, relationship with God unfolds in lived immediacy. Faith is not an abstraction; it is embodied choice in the present.
However, theological nuance is required. The present moment is not sacred simply because it is immediate; it is sacred because God is sovereign over it. The Christian does not merely embrace reality as it is but entrusts it to divine governance. Thus, presence is inseparable from providence. The believer’s acceptance of the present is grounded in the conviction that history—including the present—is under God’s redemptive authority.
Contemplation and Action
Rohr resists the accusation that contemplation is escapist. Instead, he argues that contemplative awareness purifies action. By exposing ego-driven motivations, contemplation enables more compassionate engagement with the world.
This claim finds resonance within evangelical spirituality. True inward renewal precedes authentic outward service. When believers discern their pride, insecurity, and hidden ambitions, their ministry becomes less about self-justification and more about love.
Nevertheless, the transformative power of contemplation must again be connected to grace. Self-awareness alone cannot overcome sin. The Spirit’s sanctifying work, grounded in Christ’s atonement, sustains moral transformation. Contemplation, therefore, is not an autonomous technique but a means of grace—effective insofar as it draws the believer into deeper communion with the triune God.
Conclusion
Just This offers a profound invitation: stop controlling, stop judging, and inhabit reality with awakened awareness. Rohr’s emphasis on awe, surrender, presence, and compassionate seeing provides a needed corrective to anxious, performance-driven religiosity.
Yet his framework requires theological anchoring. Awe must be illuminated by revelation; awakening must be grounded in regeneration; surrender must rest upon providence; presence must be sustained by hope in Christ. Without these, contemplation risks becoming anthropocentric spirituality. With them, it can become a deepened mode of discipleship.
In the end, Rohr’s work provokes both affirmation and discernment. It challenges readers to wake up—but the Christian must ask: wake up to what? The fullest answer, from an evangelical standpoint, is this: to the living God revealed in Jesus Christ, present in this moment, sovereign over suffering, and faithful in redeeming grace.