Which One Day?

I’ve always liked instructions. I like lists. I prefer things to be spelled out clearly, ideally in bold letters and accompanied by a picture.

That’s why I never understood the Big Book for Alcoholics when it said, “Take it one day at a time.”

One day at a time? Which one day? Today? Yesterday? Tomorrow? Or some mysterious day tucked away in the back corner of the calendar that nobody told me about?

I asked a pastor about it once, figuring a man who wears a collar and smiles a lot would have an answer. He leaned back in his chair, hands folded over a Bible that had more creases than my grandma’s face.

“Tom,” he said, “it’s always today.”

“Today?” I asked. “But it’s almost noon.”

“Exactly,” he said, “God gave you today. Not yesterday, not tomorrow. Today. You’re still sober right now, aren’t you?”

That hit me like a brick in the chest. Not that God wants to hit me with bricks—He’s way more patient than that—but it got my attention. I had been worried about yesterday’s mistakes and tomorrow’s uncertainties, and had forgotten about this day.

So I tried it. I woke up, one foot in front of the other, thinking, “Today, I won’t worry, I’ll pray. Today, I’ll call someone I love and make sure they know it.”

Here’s the funny part: I made it about two hours before I forgot entirely.

That’s okay. I tried again.

And then I laughed at myself because the whole process felt like one of those infomercials: “Call now, and we’ll throw in forgiveness, peace, and a side of humility, free!”

One day at a time. It doesn’t matter if you screw up at 10 a.m., 2 p.m., or 9 p.m.

The point is that the day is still yours to live well. The grace of God is big enough to cover every slip, every stumble, every glazed-over glazed donut you weren’t supposed to eat. Yes, donuts count as a slippery slope when you’re trying to keep promises to yourself.

I told my best friend about my revelation, hoping he’d be impressed by my newfound wisdom.

He looked at me and said, “Tom, I’ve been living one day at a time for years. I just didn’t know it had a name.”

That’s the beauty of faith and common sense rolled into one–God’s instructions aren’t complicated. They’re simple, persistent, and gentle.

You wake up, get on your knees, ask for strength, and then you walk through the day. Maybe you stumble and have to get up again. But you always start with the one day God gave you.

And here’s the tender, humorous, human truth–when you really pay attention, you’ll notice that the “one day” is made up of a thousand little moments.

The cup of coffee you savor without hurrying. The text you send to a friend who’s struggling. The door you hold open for a stranger.

The “I’m sorry” you whisper before bed. Each tiny moment is its own day inside the bigger day.

So I finally know what the Big Book meant. It’s this day.

And right now. And the next moment after that.

And the next. And if God is patient—and He is—you can keep taking them, one at a time, for the rest of your life.

And when someone asks you how you’re doing, you can honestly say, with a little laugh and a lot of humility, “I’m taking it one day at a time. Today, to be exact.”