He wasn’t Irish by birth. He was actually taken there as a slave when he was a teenager. For years he lived alone in the fields, tending sheep. It was there in suffering and loneliness that his faith awakened. Patrick later wrote that during that time he would pray constantly. He would pray hundreds of times a day. The hardship stripped everything away until only one thing remained: his dependence on God.

Eventually he escaped slavery and returned home. But years later, after becoming a priest, he felt God calling him back to the very land where he had once been enslaved - back to Ireland; back to the people who had taken everything from him. There he spent the rest of his life preaching Christ.

One of the most famous prayers connected to him is what’s called The Lorica of St. Patrick, sometimes known as St. Patrick’s Breastplate. A lorica was a piece of armor, a breastplate worn in battle.

It’s a prayer of spiritual protection.
A prayer of spiritual awakening.

And it begins with these words:

“I arise today
Through a mighty strength, the invocation of the Trinity,
Through belief in the Threeness,
Through confession of the Oneness
Of the Creator of creation.”

That opening line is powerful. “I arise today.” Not just physically getting out of bed. Spiritually rising. Awakening again to God. In many ways, that’s what Lent is meant to be. A season where we arise again. We return to prayer. We return to repentance. We return to the Lord. Patrick reminds us that we don’t rise by our own strength. We arise through the strength of God.

Later in the prayer he writes:

“I arise today
Through the strength of Christ’s birth and his baptism,
Through the strength of his crucifixion and his burial,
Through the strength of his resurrection and his ascension.”

Notice what Patrick is doing. He is rooting his life in the mysteries of Christ; his birth, his baptism, the carrying of the Cross and his Resurrection. In other words, Patrick understands something deeply Christian: our lives are carried by the life of Jesus; even our struggles. Yes, especially our struggles. This is why Lent focuses so intensely on the Cross. Because the Cross is not just something Jesus endured. It is the place where our lives meet his.

As St. Paul writes:

“I have been crucified with Christ; it is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me.”
—Galatians 2:20 (RSVCE)

Patrick then expands his prayer outward. He calls upon the entire communion of heaven:

“In the prayers of patriarchs,
In preachings of the apostles,
In faiths of confessors,
In innocence of virgins,
In deeds of righteous men.”

He knows he does not walk the Christian life alone. He walks it with the Church; with the saints, with those who have gone before him, and with those praying alongside him. This is one of the quiet gifts of Lent. We are not just individuals trying harder to be holy. We are a people journeying together toward Easter.

Then Patrick reaches the heart of the prayer—the line many people recognize:

“Christ with me, Christ before me, Christ behind me,
Christ in me, Christ beneath me, Christ above me…”

It continues like this for several lines.

Christ on my right.
Christ on my left.
Christ when I lie down.
Christ when I sit down.

What Patrick is doing here is beautiful. He is placing Christ everywhere. In every direction. In every moment. In every relationship. Christ surrounding him. Christ filling his life. This is what the spiritual life is meant to become. Not just moments of prayer, but a life permeated by Christ; a life where Christ becomes the air we breathe.

As Scripture says:

“In him we live and move and have our being.”
—Acts 17:28 (RSVCE)

Maybe that is the invitation of this Lenten season: to rediscover this prayer of Patrick; to wake up each day and quietly say:

“I arise today.”

Not in my strength. But in the strength of the Trinity; in the strength of Christ’s Cross.

In the strength of the saints who walk with us, and in the quiet confidence that Christ surrounds us— before us, behind us, above us, within us.

Wherever you are on your Lenten journey today—whether you feel strong in faith or weary in spirit—this prayer reminds us of something simple: you do not walk this road alone. Christ is already there. Before you. Behind you. Within you. Because of that, you can arise again today.

Subscribe now

“Come, follow me.” (Matthew 4:19)

How we respond matters just as much now as it did then!

That Shoreline Moment
Simon (Peter) and Andrew were just going about their day.
Same routine. Same job. Same nets. Same sea.

And then Jesus shows up. He doesn’t give them a sales pitch.
He doesn’t tell them to go pray about it and get back to Him.
He just says: “Come, follow me.”
And they drop the net. Immediately.

Then He calls James and John. They’re with their father, “mending their nets.”
And again—they drop the net and follow; seemingly leaving their father behind.

Lent Is a Season to Drop the Net
That’s what Lent is about.
It’s not about spiritual performances. It’s not about punishing ourselves or checking boxes.

It’s about this:
Letting go of the nets that keep us from following Jesus.

It’s about surrender.
About returning to the Lord with all our hearts.

And if you're thinking, "Well, I haven’t done much this Lent,” or “It’s probably too late now..."

Let me stop you right there:

It’s not too late.

But Here’s the Thing About Nets...
They catch things.

And when we don’t let them go, when we try to follow Jesus but keep dragging them behind us, they fill up—with stuff we never meant to carry.

The shoreline of the world is littered with many things that get caught in the nets we drag behind us:

• Distraction

• Anxiety

• Pressure

• Comparison

• Division

• Comfort

• Noise

• Greed

• Pride

• Vanity

And the more the net catches, the heavier it becomes.
Eventually, it slows us down.
It keeps us stuck.
It keeps us from being free to move with God.

So Let Me Ask You…
What’s tangled up in your net right now?

Is it the opinions of others weighing you down?

Busyness that leaves no room for stillness?

Choosing comfort over holiness?

The device you can’t seem to put down?

Relying on your own strength instead of God’s?

Unforgiveness you just can’t let go of?

We Say We’re Following… But Are We Dragging the Net?
Sometimes we like the idea of following Jesus—until it costs us something.

Until He asks us to drop something familiar.
Until He invites us into the uncomfortable.
Until He calls us out of the boat and into the deep.

But you can’t follow Jesus and cling to the net.
You can’t carry your cross if your hands are already full.

Discipleship isn’t about convenience—it’s about surrender.

Jesus didn’t say, “Follow me and I’ll make your life easy.”
He said:

“If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me.” (Mark 8:34)

But I Don’t Feel Ready...
Let me say this plainly:

You have what it takes—because He has given it to you through the power of the Holy Spirit!

Peter didn’t have it all figured out.
He still made mistakes—big ones.
And yet Jesus called him the rock.

God doesn’t wait for you to be perfect.
He’s just asking for your, “Yes”.

He’s asking you to trust that when you drop the net, He’ll fill your hands with something far greater.

There’s Always a Choice
You’re not the rich young man in the Gospel unless you choose to be (Mark 10:17-27).

Remember him?

He wanted to follow Jesus too.
But when Jesus told him to give up what he was holding onto, he walked away sad.

Not angry. Not defiant.

Just… sad.

Because he knew what was being asked of him, and he wasn’t willing to let go.

How many of us know that sadness?

That ache of a restless heart?

That longing to be closer to God, but the refusal to let go of what weighs us down?

The Reward of Surrender
Jesus asks you to drop the net in surrender, because ultimately He wants to make an exchange.

“Truly, I say to you, there is no one who has left house or brothers or sisters or mother or father or children or lands, for my sake and for the gospel, who will not receive a hundredfold now... and in the age to come, eternal life.” (Mark 10:29-30)

And Paul writes:

“What no eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor the heart of man conceived, what God has prepared for those who love him.” (1 Corinthians 2:9)

What if we lived like that was true?

Because… it is.

The Church Needs Saints, Not Spectators
We talk about the renewal of the Church.
We pray for it.
But do we realize—we just may be the ones God wants to raise up for that very same work?

In every generation, in every crisis, He calls ordinary people to do extraordinary things. I’ll say it again: In every time, in every place, the Lord raises up the right people with the right gifts to meet the needs of the time. Scripture, the history and Tradition of the Church, and the lives of the saints all demonstrate this profound truth.

But it starts with one thing: dropping the net. It starts with you.

Not perfect.
Not polished.
Just willing.

You’re Not Too Late—You’re Right on Time
So wherever you are in this Lent—
If you’ve hit a wall.
If you’ve barely started.
If you’re discouraged or tired or doubting.

Hear this again:

It’s not too late.

Drop the net.

Say yes.

Follow Him.

Not necessarily in some dramatic moment —but in the quiet, daily decisions.

In the way you love your family.
In the way you are available to those who need encouragement.
The way you fight distraction.
The way you turn your heart back to God again and again.

That’s where true greatness is found.

That’s where saints are made.

Closing Reflection
So here it is:

Jesus is still saying:
“Come, follow me.”

Right now.
Today.

The only question is—
Will you drop the net?

Closing Prayer:
Come, Holy Spirit. Inspire our thoughts. Guide our words and direct our actions. May all of these serve to build your kingdom in our hearts, in our homes, in our relationships, and in the world around us. Lord Jesus Christ, as you call us out upon the water, may the Holy Spirit fill us anew, baptize us with fresh fire, and give us the courage to keep our eyes on you in the midst of every storm. Amen.

Share

Subscribe now

How is your Lent going? Does it feel like a scenic drive down a California highway, wind in your hair, Katrina Wave’s “I’m Walking on Sunshine” playing and the sun shining? These 40 days will be smooth sailing you think? Or do you feel more like you’re stuck on the side of an icy Iowa road, spinning your wheels, listening to RUN DMC’s “Hard Times” and wondering if you’ll ever make it to the end?

No matter where you find yourself, one thing is certain: Lent is a journey, and it is not always easy. At some point, we all hit a wall. The enthusiasm we had at the start fades, and we find ourselves struggling, falling short of our own expectations, wondering, Am I even doing this right?

If you’ve ever felt that way, let me tell you something: you are not alone.

The Training Ground of Lent

I recently learned that the word dōjō means “place of the way.” It’s often associated with martial arts, but I recently heard the parish church described as a dōjō—a place where we train, grow, and learn under the guidance of a master. What a radical way of thinking about our faith!

Each time we come to Mass, we enter the dōjō, ready to learn. We listen to Scripture, receive wisdom from our spiritual teachers, and most importantly, sit at the feet of Jesus, our ultimate sensei. He is the one who trains us in holiness, who teaches us how to endure trials, and who reminds us that when we fall, we are not meant to stay down.

But training is hard. Growth is hard. And let’s be honest—Lent is hard.

Falling Short, but Never Falling Away

Maybe you started Lent strong, full of good intentions, only to find yourself slipping just a few days in. Life got busy. Old habits persisted. And suddenly, your Lenten sacrifices felt more like a reminder of failure than a path to holiness.

I know that feeling well.

This year, I was reminded just how fragile my own efforts can be. My family has followed a primarily plant-based diet for years, so abstaining from meat on Fridays was never difficult for me. But with a recent gluten allergy diagnosis, I had to change my diet—bringing meat back into my meals. Wouldn’t you know it? Three days into Lent, on the very first Friday, I completely forgot and ate meat.

I felt awful. Not just because of the mistake, but because deep down, I already felt like I wasn’t measuring up.

But God is so good.

The next morning, I was reminded of these words from Lamentations 3:21-24:

But this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope: The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases, his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is thy faithfulness.

Lent isn’t about getting it perfect. Lent is about learning how much we need God’s grace.

Jesus Himself tells us:

“I am the vine, you are the branches. He who abides in me, and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing.” (John 15:5)

That means when we fall short, we have two choices. We can stay down, discouraged, and convince ourselves that holiness is too far out of reach… or we can get back up, lean on God’s mercy, and keep moving forward in love. After all, in this dojo, that is the only way to advance the belt rank.

Even the saints had to do this. St. Paul himself admitted:

“The things that I want to do, I don’t do. And the things I don’t want to do, I do.” (Romans 7:15-20)

St. Maximilian Kolbe put it beautifully:

“The widespread idea that the saints were people dissimilar to us is false… Even they had to endure temptations, even they fell and got up again, even they were oppressed by sadness, weakened and paralyzed with discouragement… but they did not rely on themselves. They put all their trust in God. After every fall, they humbled themselves, repented, and then continued immediately to work with even greater zeal.”

This is what Lent is about. It’s not about perfect execution. It’s about training in trust. It’s about offering everything—our struggles, our failures, our victories—to Christ, and letting Him strengthen us.

The Invitation to Keep Going

So if you’re struggling this Lent, take heart. Maybe you feel like you’re stuck in a spiritual snowstorm, wheels spinning, unsure if you’ll ever make it through. Maybe you feel like you’ve hit the proverbial wall. Maybe you feel like you will never land that crane kick against that temptation that seems to bully you.

But here’s the good news: Jesus is right there with you.

He never asks us to walk this path alone. He simply asks us to keep going. To trust Him. To get back up. To keep loving.

Because when we do, we learn the secret of the saints:

His mercies are new every morning.

And with every fall, every struggle, and every step forward, we are drawing near to Him.

Share

Subscribe now

As I began to pray, the familiar rhythm of the words settled my restless heart. My mind, so overwhelmed with worry, started to quiet. Instead of replaying the problem over and over, I found myself drawn into the mysteries of Christ’s life. The weight of my anxiety slowly lifted. I wasn’t in control—but I didn’t need to be.

Then, as I whispered “Amen,” my phone rang.

The situation had been resolved.

Not by my effort. Not by my striving. But in the moment I surrendered, asking for Our Lady’s intercession and turning my gaze back to Christ, peace entered where my own strength had failed.

Now, does every Rosary I pray unfold like this? No. Sometimes, my mind is scattered. I battle distractions—thinking about my to-do list, replaying conversations, or even wondering whether Tom Brady will win another Super Bowl.

But I’ve learned something vital: distraction doesn’t mean prayer is wasted.

The saints remind us that prayer is a battle. St. Paul tells us that our struggle is not against flesh and blood—we are in a spiritual war, and prayer is one of our most powerful weapons. The enemy wants us to believe our distractions make our prayer ineffective. He wants us to get discouraged and give up. But here’s the truth: every effort to pray, no matter how weak or distracted, is an act of faith.

Even when our minds wander, prayer trains our hearts. Our distractions can reveal what holds too much space in our souls, gently guiding us toward deeper surrender. These distractions can also reveal situations and intentions that we need to pray for! Regardless, in the face of discrations, the key is humility—acknowledging our weakness and showing up anyway. Prayer isn’t about getting it perfect; it’s about choosing to be in God’s presence, again and again.

And for me, the Rosary has been one of the greatest tools in this battle. It grounds me. It draws me back to Christ. It reminds me that even when I feel powerless, heaven is not silent.

So, I want to challenge you.

For the next 30 days, commit to praying the Rosary each day. Even if you’re skeptical. Even if you think you won’t do it “right.” Just start. Let the mysteries speak to your heart. Let Our Lady lead you closer to her Son.

You might just find, like I did, that peace doesn’t come from having all the answers—but from knowing exactly where to turn.

Will you take the challenge?

Share

Subscribe now

As I reflect on my own journey, the weight of my shortcomings begins to press on me. My impatience with God’s plan leads to frustration. My confidence in my leadership feels thin as I witness others not following. These negative thoughts bring me down, making me feel like I’m failing. But then I hear Jesus’ words and remember that I’m doing my best—and He is there for me:

“Blessed are you who are poor, for the kingdom of God is yours.
Blessed are you who are now hungry, for you will be satisfied.
Blessed are you who are now weeping, for you will laugh.”

Nothing brought this truth home more clearly than what my son did today. I do my best to show my son how we should act in public—not only displaying social norms but also God's love. While I have been struggling with feelings of inadequacy as a leader when he has disruptive or disobedient moments, today he put his arm around me after Communion and started rubbing my back. This simple act of love and kindness—something he usually shares with those he has a deep relationship with—melted away my worries about being an inadequate parent. How beautiful it was to have this moment align with Our Lord’s words in the Gospel.

So as we approach Lent, and when you feel like you aren’t doing enough, just try your best—because you’re only human, and a man’s gotta learn to take it. Try to believe, even when the going gets rough, that you’ve gotta hang tough to make it.

You’re the best around. Nothing’s gonna ever keep you down.

Share

Subscribe now

Jeremiah gives us a striking image:

“Cursed is the one who trusts in human beings, who seeks his strength in flesh, whose heart turns away from the LORD. He is like a barren bush in the desert… But blessed is the one who trusts in the LORD, whose hope is the LORD.”

Picture this contrast—on one hand, a lifeless, dried-up shrub in the wilderness, unable to thrive. On the other, a lush, fruit-bearing tree planted by a flowing stream, its roots stretching deep into life-giving water. What makes the difference? Where their roots are planted. The first places trust in human strength alone. The second, in God.

Jesus takes this idea even further in the Gospel, presenting us with the Beatitudes. But notice: they are completely countercultural! Blessed are the poor, the hungry, the grieving, the hated. Why? Because when everything else is stripped away, those who rely on God alone experience the fullness of His kingdom. They are free from the illusion of self-sufficiency and can receive what truly satisfies.

Does this mean material wealth or earthly blessings are bad? No. But it forces us to ask: Where is our heart anchored? Do we cling to fleeting comforts, or do we allow our roots to stretch into the deep, sustaining waters of God’s grace?

Paul’s words in 1 Corinthians tie it all together:

“If for this life only we have hoped in Christ, we are the most pitiable people of all. But now Christ has been raised from the dead.”

Our faith is not just about getting through life with a little inspiration. It’s rooted in eternal reality—the resurrection of Christ. That means even in our suffering, even in our losses, even when life doesn’t go the way we planned, we can trust that God is leading us toward something greater than we can imagine. That is why the poor can be called blessed. That is why those who weep can still rejoice.

Living This Out: Rooted in Him

These readings invite us to examine our hearts. Are we striving for success, comfort, or human approval? Or are we pursuing the deeper, lasting joy of walking with Christ?

This brings us to an important question from Scripture: How do we make choices that align with God’s will? The book of Sirach reminds us that God has given us free will (Sir 15:15-20). Every day, we are invited to choose life—to choose to trust Him, even when it’s hard. This doesn’t happen by accident. It happens when we intentionally nurture our roots in Him.

So how do we do that? By being formed in His truth. The Psalm for this Sunday says:

“Blessed the one who delights in the law of the LORD and meditates on it day and night.”

God’s law isn’t just a set of rules—it’s a path to life! It forms our conscience and gives us the wisdom to make moral decisions that align with His heart. But more than external obedience, God wants transformation—He wants our hearts to be changed, not just our behavior.

And that’s the challenge. How do we move from merely following the rules to being transformed at the deepest level? It starts by being rooted in Christ. We don’t just avoid sin—we let God change our desires. We don’t just try harder—we surrender more deeply. We don’t just seek temporary happiness—we long for eternal joy.

A Call to Action

So this week, let’s reflect:

• Where is my trust? Am I rooted in Christ, or in something else?

• How am I nurturing my faith? Am I spending time in prayer, Scripture, and the Sacraments, allowing God to form my heart?

• Where is God calling me to let go of control and trust Him more?

And I want to challenge you: Choose one concrete way to live out the Beatitudes this week. Maybe it’s reaching out to someone who is suffering. Maybe it’s serving the poor. Maybe it’s letting go of an attachment to worldly success or comfort.

Jesus invites us into a life of radical trust, but He doesn’t leave us to do it alone. He is the stream that nourishes us, the foundation that sustains us, the life that never fades.

Let’s trust Him. Let’s plant ourselves by His living water. And let’s bear fruit that lasts.

Share

Subscribe now

Hebrews 12:2 has always been a source of comfort and strength for my wife and I: “Looking to Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross…” Over the years, this verse has shaped how we view suffering, helping us frame it in the light of hope. Jesus endured the unimaginable agony of the Cross because of the joy He saw ahead of Him—the salvation of every soul He came to redeem. Each one of us was a joy He gazed upon as He carried His Cross to Calvary.

This truth has sustained us through many seasons of difficulty in our marriage and family life. But recently, we encountered a sorrow that brought this reflection to an entirely new depth. We were expecting a baby girl, Catherine Therese, and after months of holding our breath following prior miscarriages, we finally allowed ourselves to breathe, to hope. Then, in what should have been a routine appointment, we learned her heart had stopped beating. My wife had to give birth to a child we would never see grow up, and our hearts broke in ways we didn’t think possible.

Catherine Therese’s time here was brief, but her life profoundly touched ours. Her memory lives on—in our prayers, in her tiny handprints and footprints, and in the love we carry for her. And yet, in the depths of our grief, we found ourselves wrestling with a profoundly human question: what happens when you endure the Cross, but there is no joy set before you? When suffering brings no visible fruit, only more pain?

This question is both raw and deeply unsettling, shaking the very foundations of faith and compelling us to confront the profound mystery of suffering. Yet, even in this darkness, the Church, Scripture, and our trust in God’s unwavering love provide truths that, while they may not erase the pain, offer strength to sustain us when the path forward seems unclear. This reflection is my heartfelt effort to grapple with that question, to seek meaning in the midst of sorrow, and to honor the memory of Catherine Therese, whose brief but precious life continues to reveal the sacredness of every soul and the enduring hope we have in Christ.

The Mystery of the Cross

The heart of our faith rests on a paradox: that through suffering and death, Christ conquered sin and brought us the possibility of eternal life. The joy that lay before Him wasn’t immediate, at least not in the way we think of the term “immediate.” It certainly wasn’t relief from pain, nor a quick return to comfort. Not for Christ and not for His Mother, His Passion was one suffering to the next. It was the fulfillment of God’s redemptive plan; but also a plan that required Christ to embrace the Cross in the face of abandonment, humiliation, and agony.

As Catholics, we are invited to participate in this mystery. Through Baptism, we are joined to Christ’s Death and Resurrection. But sometimes, the resurrection at the other end of our own suffering feels impossibly far away, and we are left standing at the foot of the Cross, unsure if joy will ever come. We can know what Scripture and even our faith teaches, yet in our humanity, still experience the greatest depths of suffering.

St. Thérèse of Lisieux experienced this in her final days. She endured excruciating physical pain and spiritual darkness, confessing that she felt completely abandoned by God. Yet, she clung to trust: Her suffering was difficult to bear in the moment, but she offered it as a gift to God, believing that it would bear fruit she could not yet see.

The same is true of St. John of the Cross, who described the “dark night of the soul.” This profound spiritual suffering, he taught, isn’t a sign of God’s absence but of His transformative work. When we are stripped of all comfort, God draws us closer to Himself, purifying us in ways beyond our understanding.

When Suffering Brings No Visible Fruit

In our human experience, suffering often feels like a transaction: we endure pain for the sake of something good. A mother endures childbirth for the joy of holding her child. An athlete trains through grueling workouts for the prize of victory. A student sacrifices sleep to achieve their degree.

But the truth is, not all suffering in this life will yield visible fruit. But as Catholics, we hold fast to the promise that no suffering is meaningless when united to Christ. St. Paul writes in Colossians 1:24, “I rejoice in my sufferings for your sake, and in my flesh I am filling up what is lacking in the afflictions of Christ.” This doesn’t mean Christ’s sacrifice was insufficient, but that He invites us to share in His redemptive work. Our suffering, when offered to Him, becomes a powerful prayer—a participation in the salvation of souls – even our own.

This doesn’t erase the pain. It doesn’t even necessarily answer the question of “why.” But it gives us a way to endure. We unite our suffering to His, trusting that He will transform it into something beautiful, even if we cannot see it now.

Finding Hope in the “Unseen Joy”

What, then, is the joy set before us when suffering brings no visible fruit?

For my wife and I, the answer lies in eternity. Our child is now in the presence of God. Though we cannot hold her in our arms, we trust that she intercedes for us in heaven. This is a joy we cannot yet fully grasp, but it is a promise we can cling to in faith. As Scripture reminds us, we do not grieve as those without hope” (1 Thes 4:13).

The joy may be unseen, hidden in God’s plan, to be revealed only in eternity. This requires a radical trust, the kind that feels impossible when we are drowning in sorrow. Yet, this is the hope of the Christian life: that even when all seems lost, God is still working for our good (Romans 8:28). This is the Gospel message after all:

“The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me, because the Lord has anointed me to bring good tidings to the afflicted; he has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted; to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to those who are bound; to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor… to comfort all who mourn; to grant to those who mourn in Zion— to give them a garland instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, the mantle of praise instead of a faint spirit; that they may be called oaks of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, that he may be glorified” (Isa 61:1-3).

In the midst of grief, small glimpses of joy can sustain us. A kind word from a friend. The embrace of a loved one. The quiet presence of Christ in the Eucharist. These moments remind us that we are not alone and that, even in the darkness, God’s light still shines.

The Role of Community and Sacraments

Grief is a heavy burden, and we are not meant to carry it alone. The Church, in her wisdom, offers us the Sacraments as a source of strength. The Eucharist unites us to Christ’s sacrifice, reminding us that we are never alone in our suffering. Confession offers us a place to pour out our pain and receive God’s mercy. Prayer connects us to the Communion of Saints, who intercede for us in our trials.

We also need the support of community. Whether it’s a faith community, close friends, or a trusted therapist, we heal when we allow others to walk with us. Sharing our grief doesn’t lessen the pain, but it reminds us that we are seen and loved. As Scripture reminds us, good friends are a life saving medicine (Sirach 6:14-17).

Conclusion: A Call to Trust and Faith

No words can fully erase the ache of suffering, and no reflection can answer the question of “why” to our satisfaction. But even in the darkest moments, Christ stands with us. There is no suffering and no temptation we may experience that He Himself did not endure (Heb 4:14-16). Therefore, we can trust Him as the most worthy of companions in the midst of suffering and trial. He invites us to trust that our cross is never the end of the story. Resurrection will come, even if we cannot see it now. The tomb always gives way.

To those who find themselves asking, “What happens when you endure the cross, but there is no joy set before you?” I offer this: Christ Himself walks with us in every trial, carrying us when we can no longer carry ourselves. In fact, we, even in good times, can never really carry ourselves. We are always reliant on Him. No suffering is too heavy, no grief too deep, for His redeeming love. He is our Simon of Cyrene, the one we gaze upon at the other end of the cross we may be carrying. He is the one that bears the weight most of all. In the face of great sorrow, let us fix our eyes on Him, trusting that He is always near, even when joy feels impossibly far. Though we may not see it now, His love transforms our pain, bringing forth hope and life in ways beyond our understanding. Let us hold fast to this truth: the cross is never the end of the story—resurrection will come. We may feel locked away in our tomb but putting our faith and trust in Christ we know that the stone will roll away. Until then, may we remain united to Him, finding strength in His promise, “I will be with you always, to the end of the age” (Matthew 28:20).

Share

Here are some Scripture passages to meditate and reflect upon. May you find strength and hope in these words.

Subscribe now

Isaiah 43:1-2
"But now thus says the Lord, he who created you, O Jacob, he who formed you, O Israel: ‘Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine. When you pass through the waters I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you.’"

Psalm 34:18-19
"The Lord is near to the brokenhearted, and saves the crushed in spirit. Many are the afflictions of the righteous; but the Lord delivers him out of them all."

Psalm 46:1-2
"God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear though the earth should change, though the mountains shake in the heart of the sea."

Lamentations 3:22-24
"The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases, his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. ‘The Lord is my portion,’ says my soul, ‘therefore I will hope in him.’"

Matthew 11:28-30
"Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light."

John 16:33
"I have said this to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you have tribulation; but be of good cheer, I have overcome the world."

Romans 8:18
"I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us."

2 Corinthians 4:16-18
"So we do not lose heart. Though our outer nature is wasting away, our inner nature is being renewed every day. For this slight momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, because we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen; for the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal."

Hebrews 4:15-16
"For we have not a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin. Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need."

1 Peter 5:10
"And after you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace, who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ, will himself restore, establish, and strengthen you."

Revelation 21:3-4
"And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, ‘Behold, the dwelling of God is with men. He will dwell with them, and they shall be his people, and God himself will be with them; he will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning nor crying nor pain any more, for the former things have passed away.’"

I am willing to bet everyone reading this is familiar with the phrase “wearing your heart on your sleeve.” Maybe you have even been accused of it a time or two! What does it mean though? Well, it could be defined simply as openly expressing emotions, beliefs, and convictions.

Some see it as a virtue—being genuine, honest, and transparent. Others see it as a risk in a world that often prizes self-protection and emotional distance. Others see it as a turnoff or a lack of prudence (which… sometimes it could be if not done in the right setting and with love).

The question is: Should we wear our hearts on our sleeves?

• What does Scripture say about it?

• What does it mean for our relationships, faith, and the world?

• Is it worth the risk?

1. The Struggle: Why It’s Hard to Be Open

The Risk of Vulnerability

Choosing to live openly comes with real challenges. The world isn’t always kind to people who lead with their hearts.

• Rejection and misunderstanding: Some may think you’re too emotional, too sensitive, or even naive. Others may misinterpret your intentions or even accuse you falsely.

• Emotional exhaustion: Caring deeply means carrying the burdens of others, leading to compassion fatigue (yes, that is a thing) and disappointment.

• Being taken advantage of: Not everyone has good intentions. Some may exploit your kindness or mistake vulnerability for weakness.

• The pain of betrayal: The people closest to you have the power to wound you the most. Trust can be shattered, leaving you wondering if it’s worth it.

Example: Jesus healed, forgave, and loved without reservation, yet He was betrayed, denied, and crucified.

The World’s Response: Guard Yourself

Society often warns us:

• Don’t trust too much.

• Don’t love too deeply.

• Don’t let others see your struggles.

Social media exaggerates these pressures even more!

Kent M. Keith’s Paradoxical Commandments (often misattributed to St Teresa of Calcutta – though I am sure she would agree with the ideas) highlight this tension:

“People are illogical, unreasonable, and self-centered. Love them anyway.”
“The good you do today will be forgotten tomorrow. Do good anyway.”

Because of these risks, many choose an alternative: hiding behind a mask—appearing strong, self-sufficient, and indifferent. Bootstraps and resolve, stubborn determination and ambition routed in relentless independence; “I’m fine!” Self-checkout, ordering groceries online for pick up, the touch screen order, anything to avoid human contact – all in the name of convenience. I’m too busy for anything else.

Perhaps I am being too strong? Perhaps I really am someone who wears my heart on my sleeve… But it is something I have found myself reflecting on a lot. Is this really a better way to live?

2. The Example of Christ: The Ultimate Heart on the Sleeve

Jesus lived with radical openness:

• He wept for His friends (John 11:35).

• He felt deep compassion for the lost (Matthew 9:36).

• He spoke truth in love, even when it cost Him (Matthew 23).

• He loved to the end, even those who would betray Him (John 13:1).

The Beatitudes: A Call to Vulnerable Living

Blessed are the poor in spirit… Blessed are those who mourn… Blessed are the meek… Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness…

These qualities are not about self-protection but about openness, honesty, and trust in God.

Love Wears No Armor (1 Corinthians 13)

“Love is patient and kind… It does not insist on its own way… It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.”

Love, by its very nature, requires vulnerability. Yes, it is a kind of love that we can live only by the grace of God and the help of the Holy Spirit – but it is vulnerability nonetheless!

3. The Real Risks of Wearing Your Heart on Your Sleeve

Let’s be honest—this way of living is hard. It comes with a cost.

1. Rejection and Misunderstanding

• Some will see your openness as weakness or manipulation.

• When you invest deeply in relationships or causes, you risk facing indifference—or worse, hostility. This can be quite hard to bear and leave you feeling discouraged and alone.

Example: Jesus poured His heart into others and was still denied, mocked, and abandoned.

2. The Weight of Emotional Exhaustion

• Compassion fatigue is real. Loving deeply means carrying burdens.

• Disappointment is inevitable when love isn’t returned. (On the bright side, who knows better the pain of love rejected? This is an opportunity to unite your suffering with Christ!)

• Emotional highs and lows can be overwhelming.

Example: Ministry, friendships, and family life all require deep emotional investment—but not everyone will give the same in return.

3. Being Taken Advantage Of

• Some will manipulate your kindness for personal gain.

• Without boundaries, you risk becoming overextended or used. You will fight with burnout!

Example: Jesus told us to be "wise as serpents and innocent as doves" (Matthew 10:16). Vulnerability isn’t recklessness. But you will need prudence and discernment in establishing boundaries.

4. The Pain of Betrayal

• The people closest to you can hurt you the most.

• After being wounded repeatedly, it’s tempting to shut down and stop caring.

Example: Jesus was betrayed by Judas, denied by Peter, and abandoned by His disciples—yet He loved them anyway. He built His church upon them!

4. So Why Do It Anyway?

Yes, there are risks. Yes, you will get hurt.
But shutting down isn’t the answer. The world doesn’t need more guarded, cynical people—it needs more people willing to love boldly! In a world of labels and division, enemies and camps, parties and complaints, accusations and blame, the world needs those who will truly love boldly.

The alternative is worse:
A life where you are never truly known, never truly seen, never truly loved for who you are.

God calls us to be vulnerable—not because it’s easy, but because it’s holy.

At the end of the day, the cons are real—but they don’t outweigh the beauty of living authentically, loving deeply, and reflecting Christ in a world that desperately needs it.

5. The Reward: Why the World Needs People Who Wear Their Hearts on Their Sleeves

It’s tempting to believe that guarding yourself is safer. But if everyone did that, the world would be a colder, lonelier place. We pray, “Thy kingdom come, thy will be done,” but when we are not living a life of authentic love, the world around us starts to look a lot less like the life of heaven. We are called to be salt and light, a city on a hill; not to hide our light under a basket.

1. Authenticity Breaks Down Walls

• People crave realness—not polished perfection, but raw, honest connection. We may pretend that isn’t true; but it is.

• Vulnerability creates space for others to be themselves. As St Catherine of Siena reminds us, “Be who you are meant to be, and you will set the world on fire!” We are meant to be people of authentic love, bearing witness of Christ in the world.

Example: Jesus dined with sinners, wept openly, and embraced those the world rejected. His authenticity drew people in. He neither built walls nor pushed others away.

2. Love, Even When Costly, Transforms Lives

• Love is the most powerful force on earth—even when it’s not reciprocated.

• Even if your love isn’t always received well, it still plants a seed. Christ is the ultimate example of that.

  • “Even while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us” (Rom 5:8).

  • “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life. For God sent the Son into the world, not to condemn the world, but that the world might be saved through him” (John 3:16-17).

  • “He came to his own home, and his own people received him not. But to all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God; who were born, not of blood nor of the will of the flesh nor of the will of man, but of God” (John 1:11-13).

  • “Jesus endured the cross for the joy that was set before him” (Heb 12:2).

That joy was YOU. It was me. It was all of us. He knew some would reject Him. But He chose to demonstrate His love in the greatest act of sacrifice regardless of rejection, desiring to share His very life and love with us for all eternity.

Example: The saints, missionaries, and martyrs throughout history changed the world because they refused to hold back their love.

3. Compassion is Contagious

• Deep kindness and empathy inspire others to live the same way. We are literally wired this way! (See Simon Sinek’s Leaders Eat Last) This is all the more true by the grace and work of the Holy Spirit in our lives – to the degree we cooperate of course.

• One person choosing to be real creates a ripple effect that transforms relationships, communities, and even churches.

Example: The Paradoxical Commandments remind us to love, give, and be kind anyway.

4. It’s How We Were Created to Live

• God is love (1 John 4:8), and to live in His image means loving with an open heart.

• The Ten Commandments and the Beatitudes aren’t just rules—they’re a blueprint for a fully alive life.

“By this, all people will know that you are my disciples: if you have love for one another.” (John 13:35)

Conclusion: The World Needs You to Be That Person

It’s easy to think:
"I’ll just keep my guard up. I won’t get hurt that way."

But in doing so, we miss out—not just on pain that helps us to unite ourselves with Christ, but on deep, meaningful relationships, the joy of loving freely, and the purpose that comes with living as God intended.

Yes, it’s risky. Yes, you’ll get hurt. But the alternative is worse—a life half-lived, a heart never fully given; potentially gaining the whole world, but losing your soul (Mat 16:26).

The world needs more people willing to risk vulnerability for the sake of love.

Be that person.
Wear your heart on your sleeve.
“Be who you were meant to be, and you will set the world on fire.”

Share

Subscribe now

A mere five minutes after I finished writing this post, one I felt generally inspired and led to share, as encouragement and not judgment, I received a call from my wife. We were expecting a baby girl. She had gone to what should have been a routine appointment. Only this time, a heartbeat could not be found. Something that to this point had been so easy. Before I knew it it, we were off to labor and delivery. A child would be born that we would not get to have the joy of watching grow up. Though we know someday we will get to meet her, sometimes its hard to grab hold of that hope in the midst of sorrow. But, thanks be to God for the gift of faith in these incredibly difficult moments.

What I wanted to say in the form of an update, is that since that moment, we have experienced the very things that I mention below. The gift of presence. The gifts of sacrifice. The gifts of meeting the most practical of needs and certainly of encouragement. The gifts of others helping us to carry the cross.

And so, what follows, takes on new meaning; deeper meaning. As I can speak from current experience, the difference that all of this can make. And we are grateful.

When “I Am Praying for You” Isn’t Enough

“I’m praying for you.”

It’s a phrase we’ve all heard—and hopefully said—countless times. And it’s a good thing to say. It is an even better thing when we mean it. Prayer is one of the most profound ways we can love and support someone. But have you ever been on the receiving end of those words and felt that something was still missing? Have you ever been in a season of struggle and thought, “I appreciate your prayers, but I just need someone to be here with me”?

Sometimes, the people around us need more than our words—they need our presence. They need someone who will show up, check in, and remind them that they’re not alone. Prayer is foundational, but it’s also a call to action. As St. James writes:
"What does it profit, my brethren, if a man says he has faith but has not works? Can his faith save him? If a brother or sister is ill-clad and in lack of daily food, and one of you says to them, ‘Go in peace, be warmed and filled,’ without giving them the things needed for the body, what does it profit? So faith by itself, if it has no works, is dead” (James 2:14-17).

Our faith is meant to be lived out in love, and sometimes that love looks like more than saying a prayer—it looks like showing up.

The Gift of Presence

One of the greatest gifts we can offer someone is simply being there. We live in a world where texts, emails, and social media have made communication easier but less personal. While a heartfelt message is valuable, it’s no substitute for the power of presence.

When someone is struggling, your presence speaks louder than words. Whether it’s a quick coffee date, sitting together in silence, playing a board game, or a phone call to hear their voice, these moments remind them they are not forgotten. As St. Thérèse of Lisieux said:
"A word or a smile is often enough to put fresh life in a despondent soul."

Our presence becomes a tangible expression of God’s love, offering comfort, encouragement, and hope.

The Gift of Small Sacrifices

St. Thérèse of Lisieux’s “Little Way” teaches us that holiness is often found in small, ordinary acts of love. She reminds us:
"Miss no single opportunity of making some small sacrifice, here by a smiling look, there by a kindly word; always doing the smallest right and doing it all for love."

A small act of kindness—a meal delivered, a text to check in, or a handwritten note—can make an immeasurable difference. These sacrifices don’t have to be grand gestures. Often, it’s the small, thoughtful actions done with great love that breathe life into a weary soul.

Practical Ways to Go Beyond “I Am Praying for You”

1. Check In Regularly

• Send a simple message: “I’m thinking of you and praying for you. How are you today?”

• Follow up consistently. Sometimes it’s the second or third check-in that truly communicates care.

2. Offer Tangible Encouragement

• Share a Scripture verse, such as “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit” (Psalm 34:18), or a favorite prayer.

• Write a letter or card to remind them of their strength and worth.

3. Be Present

• Meet them for coffee, go for a walk, or simply sit with them. Your presence can be a source of healing.

• If distance is an issue, schedule a phone or video call. Hearing your voice can be deeply comforting.

4. Meet Practical Needs

• Ask, “What’s one thing I can do to help you this week?” It could be delivering a meal, running an errand, or babysitting.

• Don’t wait for them to ask. Anticipate their needs and act.

5. Listen Without Fixing

• Resist the urge to solve their problems unless they explicitly ask for advice. Instead, say, “I’m here to listen. Tell me what’s on your heart.” Or in the words of Chester Bennington in my favorite Linkin Park song, “Can I help you not to hurt anymore?”

6. Listen Without Defending

• If a friend expresses feeling unsupported or unheard, don’t take it as a personal attack. Instead, see it as an invitation to grow. Respond with humility and empathy, saying, “I’m sorry if I haven’t been there for you in the way you needed. How can I do better?”

7. Honor the Trust of Confiding

• When someone opens up to you, it’s a sign of trust. Instead of immediately pointing them elsewhere (like a counselor or another friend), acknowledge the gift of their vulnerability. Saying something like, “Thank you for trusting me with this. I’m here for you,” can affirm their decision to share.

• While professional help may be needed eventually, it’s often better to focus on listening and supporting in the moment. Avoid making them feel as though their trust is being redirected or dismissed.

8. Share the Load Without Judgment

• Offer companionship in their struggles. For example, “Let’s tackle this together. We’ll take it one step at a time.”

• Avoid critical comments about their emotions or decisions. Instead, validate their feelings, even if you don’t fully understand them.

9. Pray With Them, Not Just For Them

• While private prayers are powerful, praying together can provide immediate comfort and deepen your connection. Offer to pray with them in the moment:
  “Can I pray for you right now? Let’s ask God for His peace and guidance.”

10. Celebrate Small Victories

• Acknowledge their progress, no matter how small. For instance, “I’m proud of you for getting through today. I know it wasn’t easy.”

• Celebrate their strength and resilience with encouragement, hope, and confidence.

Faith and Action: Living the Gospel

Reflecting on my life over the years, I’ve come to see how deeply relationships matter. The friendships I’ve built, the mentors who have invested in me, and the moments of showing up for others have made the greatest difference—not only in my life but in theirs.

When we combine prayer with action, we live out the Gospel in its fullness. As St. Paul reminds us, faith is relational: “Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep” (Romans 12:15). Our friendships become a reflection of Christ’s love when we step into another’s struggles with empathy and care, and help them carry their cross; even if just for a moment.

Small Acts, Big Impact

St. Thérèse’s reminder that a smile or kind word can lift a despondent soul challenges us to see the power of small acts. We may not always have the resources to solve someone’s problems, but we can always offer something. Whether it’s a prayer (in person), a hug, or a moment of presence, these small gestures become profound signs of God’s love.

A Call to Action

The next time you tell someone, “I’m praying for you,” ask yourself:

• How can I show them God’s love through my actions?

• What small sacrifice can I make to remind them they’re not alone?

• What can I do to be a better channel of God’s love in this moment?

Let us strive to be the hands and feet of Christ; offering a hug when its needed most, standing with others and being present, living out our faith with both prayer and presence. Together, we can offer hope, healing, and encouragement to a world that desperately needs it – a world that seems to have no time for thoughtful actions of love or small sacrifices.

Share

Closing Reflection

As Sirach 6:14-17 says:
"A faithful friend is an elixir of life; those who fear the Lord will find him."

May we all strive to be that faithful friend, offering not just our prayers but our time, presence, and small acts of love. In doing so, we reflect the heart of Christ and bring His light to those in need.

Subscribe now

A few years ago, I was on campus for a conference. The day was hot and humid, with a storm rolling in. As thunder rumbled and rain poured down, I stayed put. Right there on the bench. Looking up at the Blessed Mother. Despite the downpour, I couldn’t bring myself to leave. The burdens I carried felt far too heavy. My heart was tired, stressed, and burned out. Even as I joined in the joy of the conference, my mind was preoccupied with situations that seemed hopeless, only growing darker with time.

Yet, in the stillness of that stormy afternoon, something changed.

Sitting alone in the grotto, rain soaking me to the bone (and yes, even ruining my cell phone), I experienced an indescribable peace. With only the sound of the rain and the occasional clap of thunder, I felt a profound presence—loving, comforting, and tender. It was as though Our Lady herself had taken me into her arms and whispered, “Rest, my son. Do not worry.”

I will never forget that moment. Everything else seemed to fade away. The weight I had carried into that sacred space no longer mattered. It was the first time I truly understood what it means to call Mary “Mother.” Beyond doctrines and teachings, I experienced her maternal love in a deeply personal way—a love that embraced me and filled my heart right where I was.

In that moment, the significance of Jesus’ words from the Cross became vividly clear: “Behold your son.” And to the beloved disciple, “Behold your Mother.” (John 19:26-27). Even in His final moments, Christ’s love was so abundant that He gave us His own Mother. Scripture tells us that the beloved disciple “took her into his home,” and as disciples today, we are invited to do the same.

To take Mary into our homes means more than just acknowledging her role in salvation history. It means inviting her maternal love into our hearts and allowing her to lead us closer to her Son. Like any faithful mother, her greatest desire is to draw us nearer to the source of true peace—the peace that surpasses all understanding—Jesus Christ.

Reflecting on that rainy day in the grotto, I can only marvel at the gentle love of Our Blessed Mother. She meets us in our struggles, takes our burdens into her own heart, and gently points us toward hope. She reminds us that we are never alone, even when life feels overwhelming.

Wherever you find yourself today—whether you are tired, burned out, or carrying the weight of the world—know that you have a Mother who loves you. Turn to her in prayer, and let her lead you to the heart of her Son, the one who offers rest to the weary and hope to the hopeless. Let her maternal embrace remind you that you are loved, cherished, and never abandoned.

Subscribe now

May we, like the beloved disciple, take Mary into our homes and into our hearts. And may she lead us always to Jesus, the source of all peace.

Share

For years before I entered the Catholic Church, I heard this verse used as evidence against rote prayers. Many would argue that mermorized, or “rote” prayers like the Rosary or the Divine Mercy Chaplet were nothing more than “vain repetitions.” The message was clear: only spontaneous prayer was pleasing to God and from the heart. For a time, I accepted this view without question.

But then something happened.

Subscribe now

As I began to study the Catholic faith and deepen my relationship with Christ, I came to see prayer in a new light. I started to notice how my own “spontaneous” prayers often followed a familiar pattern. I repeated the same intentions, leaned on the same phrases, and frequently drew from the same Scriptures. Was this “vain repetition”? No. These prayers were not empty, because they were grounded in love and trust in the God to whom they were addressed.

This realization shifted my understanding of Jesus’ teaching. He wasn’t condemning the use of familiar or structured prayers. Instead, He was cautioning against a heart that disengages, a soul that merely goes through the motions. There is a vast difference between saying a prayer and praying a prayer—and that difference begins in the heart.

When our hearts are open, even the simplest words can carry profound meaning. Through the guidance of the Holy Spirit, the Church has handed us a treasury of prayer traditions, designed to draw us closer to God. Far from being obstacles, these prayers are tools that teach us the language of faith. They train our hearts to focus, still our minds, and enter into the presence of Christ amid the noise of the world; and countless saints have demonstrated this foundational truth.

Rote prayer, when offered with intention, becomes a rhythm that anchors us. It draws us into a deeper relationship with God, forming us in trust, humility, and surrender. In these moments, prayer is no longer merely about the words themselves but about the God who receives them; and our faith and trust in Him.

So, the question is not whether we should pray spontaneously or even a matter of only relying on rote prayers. The question is: Are we praying with our whole hearts? Are we allowing our prayers—however they are formed—to deepen our love for Christ and transform us?

Take a moment today to reflect on your prayer life. Are you rushing through your prayers, distracted by the demands of life, or are you allowing them to be an encounter with the One who loves you? Consider how you might rediscover the beauty of prayer, whether in silence, spontaneous words, or the sacred prayers handed down through the Church. Each moment of prayer is an invitation to draw near to the heart of Christ. Let us respond with love, intention, and trust.

Share

Yet, recently, I have found myself reflecting on one of my own experiences in middle school. Especially as today’s date drew near and as I’ve reflected on the current state of things in our culture.

Friday the 13th. I don’t recall the actual date, or really, even the year; I just remember that it was a “Friday the 13th.” If I had to guess, it was 7^th or 8^th grade year. My school was taking a field trip and literally everyone was going – with a few exceptions. For whatever reason, the necessary permission slip for me to attend had not been signed. This meant I had to stay behind with the assistant principle. But, this day, we were not alone.

The boy who seemed to have it as his personal mission to make my life a living hell on earth every single day of middle school thus far, also had to stay behind. It seems the adults in his life didn’t take enough interest in him to sign his permission slip either.

As my day began – and by “day” I mean a seven-and-a-half-hour study hall – fear and worry set in. I was sure that this boy didn’t even know my name. If he did, he certainly didn’t seem to care. As far as I could tell, he really thought my name was, “Fat F#$%.” He was a cruel artist of vulgarity and a master tradesman when it came to four letter words and insults. It is likely that he could bring the most grizzled of men to tears… even at the ripe old age of 13.

What followed was the most unexpectedly peaceful day I remember in my time served… er… eh… my time in middle school. Bully is not a strong enough word for my experience with this young man prior to that day. But, this day, alone, just the two of us, in the same circumstances, we found peace and civility. He called me by my name throughout the day. We joked about our unfortunate lot. We found joy during what really was painfully boring. There was no mocking. No poking fun. No name calling. We ate lunch together. Peacefully. I am sure we discussed the episode of the Simpsons that was on the night before (in the golden age, it was on Thursday nights!). It was a wonderful day. So impactful was this day that I still smile whenever someone issues a superstitious warning about Friday the 13th. “Really? For me, it has always been an unusually lucky and blessed day.”

In John 13:35, Jesus reminds us of something critically important, “The world will know you are my disciples by your love.” In Matthew 5:44, he also issues us a most difficult challenge, “Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you…” That is a hard one. I didn’t love this young man. I would dare say I nearly hated him for the way he treated me. Those feelings often turned into fear and dread. Yet, this day, I was met with a warm and respectful person… who seemed to be entirely different. In Matthew 5:45-48, Jesus goes even further: “If you love those who love you, what reward have you? Do not even the tax collectors do the same? And if you salute only your brethren, what more are you doing than others? Do not even the Gentiles do the same? You, therefore, must be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect.”

What I see in this experience are the obstacles and walls we put up that keep us from loving our neighbors as we should. Perhaps it was due to there being no one to crave attention from, no one to feel the need to impress, no one to perform for, and no one to criticize him, he was able to see me as the human being I am, and in that sense, love me as he ought. For my part, when I was able to forgive in that moment, put down my guard and see him also as a human being, and not some monstrous instrument for my torture, I, too, was able to see his own dignity, and love him in that way. Without all those walls we allowed the world to build between us, we could be friends.

I think there is a valuable lesson in this. Our call to extend love, mercy and forgiveness toward others is not somehow contingent upon circumstances we deem favorable. There is enough hate and division in the world. We are all experiencing this to one degree or another. This is compounded by the echo chambers we often allow ourselves to remain in; or in our succumbing to the current affliction: replacing respectful dialogue with insults and personal attacks. Whatever the motivation is, there is still a better way. I have no doubts that I have been guilty of this more than once. But I know what I am aiming for regardless. And I would invite everyone reading to the same simple request, often credited to St Francis:

“Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.

Where there is hatred, let me sow love;

where there is injury, pardon;

where there is doubt, faith;

where there is despair, hope;

where there is darkness, light;

and where there is sadness, joy…”

What the world around us needs most is love; the love of Christ working in and through us. Inspiring our thoughts, animating our actions, transforming hearts, helping us to become who we are meant to be, setting the world on fire with that same love. In order to do this, we are going to have to allow the love of Christ to animate our lives and help us to see even those who think differently than us, with dignity and respect. What encounters might the Lord have in store for you on this Friday the 13^th? Who might the Lord be inviting you to love today?

Subscribe now

For Further Reflection:

Who in your life do you find it difficult to love? How might God be calling you to love them despite the circumstances? What are some safe steps you may be able to take to do show the love of Christ?

Share

The Apostle Paul hints at the importance of relationships in the Christian life when he writes, “Be imitators of me, as I am of Christ” (1 Cor 11:1), and “What you have learned and received and heard and seen in me, do; and the God of peace will be with you” (Phil 4:9). There is, of course, much we can learn and imitate from St. Paul. I’d like to focus on one aspect that has made the biggest difference in my own life and ministry, and it has everything to do with relationships.

I have been blessed to have many “Pauls” in my life. After my initial conversion into the Protestant faith, which was “radical” in every sense of the word, there were men and women who took me under their wing, who invested in me and provided me with a witness of holiness. As God’s path led me into the Catholic Church, once again he provided mentors to help me embrace the fullness of faith. I had four people in my life who made all the difference. I would argue that every person desiring to follow Christ as a disciple needs these four people in his or her life, too.

The Importance of Relational Ministry

Before we identify these four kinds of people, we must say this: effective ministry is relational, and St. Paul offers a beautiful example of what this can look like in the relationships he built throughout Before we identify these four kinds of people, we must say this: effective ministry is relational, and St. Paul offers a beautiful example of what this can look like in the relationships he built throughout Scripture. After the conversion of Saul (Paul) through the faithful intercession of Ananias (Acts 9:1–19a), “For several days [Saul] was with the disciples at Damascus” (19b). From the moment of his conversion, Paul recognized the need to spend time building relationships. Most of his time prior to his conversion was spent persecuting the Church. This was even the initial purpose of his trip to Damascus. So, he needed to spend time fostering these initial relationships in order to build and deepen trust with those he previously sought to kill. We read in Acts 9:25 that “his disciples” came to trust him so much that they were even willing to put their lives at risk on his behalf. If you have served the Church for any length of time, you know that building trust, with the aim of forming disciples, takes serious investment in people and relationships.

It is Paul’s example we must follow and prioritize in this work and, going beyond our work, in our day-to-day encounters with others.

Four People you Need in Your Life

There are four kinds of people each person needs to have in life and that each of us needs to become for others. The inspiration for these four kinds of people is rooted in Paul himself and a few key friendships in Paul’s life. These people should come to know you, lead you closer to Christ, and ultimately aid in getting you to heaven.

If the Apostle Paul could not “turn the world upside down” by himself, neither can we (Acts 17:6). The four people you need in your life—and should strive to be for others—are: Paul, Timothy, Barnabas, and Silas.

Paul

First, I mentioned having “Pauls” in my own life. So, what does it mean to be a “Paul”? Paul proclaimed the truth of the Gospel and he was a mentor. He taught others the faith in order to bring about conversion, but he never stopped there. He took them under his wing to form them as disciples ready to go out and proclaim the Good News. As seen in Paul’s relationships with so many, a “Paul” is someone who is further along in living the faith. A “Paul” is already living as a disciple, maintaining a deep prayer life, is more spiritually mature, and is rooted in a lived relationship with Christ. A “Paul” is willing to intentionally pour his or her life into another’s, desiring to see others succeed. Someone who is a true mentor in this sense leads others to fruitfulness to such a degree that they begin to surpass the mentor. And a true “Paul” takes great joy in seeing another become more spiritually mature or find greater success in evangelization than he or she once did.

Does this not sound like a dream to all those working in ministry or striving for deeper holiness—to have someone personally investing in you and finding joy in your successes? St. Paul’s example as one who invests in others can be seen in his meeting of Timothy. “A disciple was there, named Timothy, the son of a Jewish woman who was a believer; but his father was a Greek. . . . Paul wanted Timothy to accompany him; and he took him and circumcised him because of the Jews that were in those places, for they all knew that his father was a Greek” (Acts 16:1–-3). In this passage, St. Paul wants Timothy to accompany him. A “Paul” invites others into his or her life.

Here Paul also ensures Timothy will be successful in his ministry by having him circumcised. In short, Timothy’s father was a Greek, and the Jews in the area knew it. This would have made preaching to that particular audience very difficult for Timothy, so Paul had him circumcised. This reveals that a “Paul” helps do what he or she can to set others up for success.

A “Paul” also sends others out with trust to do the work. In Acts chapter 17, through Paul’s investment in Timothy, Timothy is able to minister to the communities Paul taught even after Paul left (Acts 17:14).

Finally, to be a “Paul” is to take on a role of spiritual fatherhood (or motherhood). Paul writes to Timothy, “To Timothy, my true child in the faith” (1 Tim 1:2). Paul saw Timothy as a spiritual son, and Timothy allowed Paul to become a spiritual father. This, of course, requires an invitation into others’ lives through trust and relationship.

Timothy

Recently, I had a discussion with a former mentor of mine who forms young adults for ministry. We were talking about the struggle students face in the trenches of parish or school ministry after graduation. I asked, “What do you think is the biggest cause of the struggle?” The answer struck me: “They do not have mentors. Nor do they know that they need to be mentored.”

A “Timothy” is someone you are mentoring; intentionally investing in and pouring your life into. As explained above, Paul took Timothy under his wing to help him grow in holiness and become a true disciple. As one of the four people in your life, you need someone in whom you are intentionally investing. Paul had an eye for raising up others; we must as well.

Paul reminds us, “Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others. Have this mind among yourselves, which was in Christ Jesus, who . . . emptied himself” (Phil 2:4–7a). We learn from the example of St. Paul—and Christ—that we find our own identity most profoundly in giving of ourselves for others.

If a “Paul” empties himself for others, then the one for whom he empties himself must be receptive! This is the greatest quality of a “Timothy.” This person is humble, teachable, and eager to grow. “Timothy” is open to a deeper relationship with the Lord and how the Holy Spirit may be leading or working through his or her gifts (2 Tim 1:6).

A “Timothy” is not necessarily young, but there is a youthfulness in his or her spiritual life, and this is not something to be looked down upon. In the words of Paul to Timothy, “Let no one despise your youth, but set the believers an example in speech and conduct, in love, in faith, in purity” (1 Tim 4:12).

While it is important to have a mentor as well as someone you are mentoring, it is also necessary to have someone sharing the burdens and joys of ministry. This is where Barnabas comes in.

Barnabas

By the time of St. Paul’s conversion in Acts 9, Barnabas was already a well-established and trusted leader in the Early Church. According to St. Luke, “he was a good man, full of the Holy Spirit and of faith” (Acts 11:24). However, the Apostles were rightly suspicious of Paul. As mentioned above, he previously persecuted them; yet, Barnabas advocated on his behalf (Acts 9:27), and they became co-workers in ministry.

The name Barnabas means “son of encouragement;” this is precisely what it means to be a “Barnabas.” It means someone who works side by side as a partner in ministry, or even life. Like the hands of the potter, a “Barnabas” is used by the Lord to help shape you, but in a way uniquely different than that of a “Paul.” “Barnabas” is by your side, on the same path and state in life. He or she shares both the joys and the struggles, cheering you on through it all. However, a “Barnabas” is also willing to challenge you and hold you accountable when needed.

Barnabas was an advocate and encourager, but he was comfortable challenging Paul. Paul and Barnabas had a “sharp contention” over John Mark (Acts 15:39), which led them to part ways. However, John Mark went on to assist Peter in writing one of the Gospels and no doubt contributed to at least one of his letters. Later in life, Paul expresses great love and respect for John Mark (Col 4:10). In the apostle’s final recorded words to Timothy he affirms as much, “Get Mark and bring him with you; for he is very useful in serving me” (2 Tim 4:11). Barnabas was comfortable challenging Paul on John Mark while also encouraging John Mark in support of his mission. A “Barnabas” does not give up others.

Silas

We arrive at an especially Catholic perspective when we come to the fourth person you need in your life. Not only was Silas a trusted friend and companion of Paul’s, but he was with Paul in some of the most difficult moments. In Acts 16:16–40, Paul and Silas find themselves in prison:

But about midnight Paul and Silas were praying and singing hymns to God, and the prisoners were listening to them, and suddenly there was a great earthquake, so that the foundations of the prison were shaken; and immediately all the doors were opened and everyone’s chains were unfastened. . . . [The jailer] brought them out and said, “Men, what must I do to be saved?” And they said, “Believe in the Lord Jesus, and you will be saved, you and your household.” And they spoke the word of the Lord to him and to all that were in his house. And he took them the same hour of the night, and washed their wounds, and he was baptized at once, with all his family. (Acts 16:25–26; 29–33)

So, who is “Silas” in your life? Silas is that person who in the midst of suffering is able to help you turn your eyes toward the Lord and sing praises unto him. He or she may just be the most crucial of the “four people.” Without this person, one can easily succumb to hopelessness or a hardened heart. However, despite your circumstances, a “Silas” will not let you settle into cynicism and despair. The result of this friendship is that shackles fall off, prison gates are opened, the Lord comes in like a mighty flood, and souls are saved.

In ministry and in life, we need these four kinds of people. But not only do we need them for ourselves, we need to become them for others. You may find yourself feeling alone. Maybe you do not presently see these people in your life. I would invite you to reflect on the words in Sirach 6:14-17. Specifically, “A faithful friend is an elixir of life; and those who fear the Lord will find him.”  I can say without any uncertainty, seek the Lord with all your heart, make this your prayer and you will find these four people. Chances are, they are already in your life! Pray that the Lord would make that clear! Also, do not be afraid to ask someone to mentor you. Likewise, do not be afraid to pour your life into another. Make every effort to be a source of encouragement and joy to those around you. Once again, I can say without any doubt: “Whoever fears the Lord directs his friendship aright, for as he is, so is his neighbor also.” like Paul. “What you have learned and received and heard and seen in me, do; and the God of peace will be with you” (Phil 4:9).

Share

Anyone who has followed this ministry or listened to the “Draw Near” podcast knows that Sts. Francis and Clare have been a part of my journey for many years; however, for the first time I began diving deep into his teaching and encounters with friends, followers, brothers. What I have discovered, put simply, is another way of life–a life of humility, poverty (materialistic and interior), charity, complete surrender, intentional purgation and suffering, obedience, and more. 

I’ve had many “conversions” throughout my life. The first was an emotional love for God. The second was an intellectual love for his Truth and the Church. The third was a moral call to live beyond simply the “precepts of the Church” and truly live for God each day. The fourth was the deepest… It was when I met St. Therese and her “way of love” and my life was forever changed. Through this walk with St. Francis, here begins the fifth. And it is one of profound movements to which only God knows the outcome.

This shift began when I started reading a book called, “The Little Flowers of St. Francis of Assisi.” It’s a collection of accounts or exchanges between St. Francis and countless people, or “flowers.” There was one particular story that broke me… truly. 

Subscribe now

In this account, St. Francis was traveling with Brother Leo to St. Mary of the Angels in painfully cold weather. St. Francis, yelling up to Brother Leo walking ahead of him, began explaining what would bring perfect joy. He began with what it was not. Brothers living holy and edifying lives witnessing to God is not perfect joy. If Friars performed miraculous healings to the lame, the blind, the deaf, the possessed, or even the dead… this would not be perfect joy. If Friars knew all things in Scripture and science or prophecy speaking to all souls, you guessed it, this is not perfect joy. Naturally, Brother Leo asked, “where is perfect joy?” It was the answer that St. Francis gave which began this journey for me.

He said:

“If, when we shall arrive at St. Mary of the Angels, all drenched with rain and trembling with cold, all covered with mud and exhausted from hunger; if, when we knock at the convent-gate, the porter should come angrily and ask us who we are; if, after we have told him, “We are two of the brethren,” he should answer angrily, “What you say is not the truth; you are but two imposters going about to deceive the world and take away the alms of the poor; begone, I say”; if then he refuses to open to us and leave us outside, exposed to the snow and rain, suffering from cold and hunger till nightfall… if we accept such injustice… with patience, without being ruffled and without murmuring, believing with humility and charity that the porter really knows us and it is God who maketh him to speak thus against us… O Brother Leo, this is perfect joy.”

He continued this explanation further saying even if they ask to enter through tears and the porter comes out and throws them to the ground and beats them but they bear it with patience and joy thinking of the suffering of Christ, that is perfect peace.

WOW!

How often, in our culture today, is one’s first reaction to be offended or to get angry in having been offended by another? I had a recent experience in ministry when I felt just like Francis in this account… minus the patience and the charity. I felt unseen as someone living for God… an imposter; I felt punished for following the will of God; and I felt cast off into the snow and rain (because I was literally cast off). But in this account of Francis, I see another way of life for myself and for all of mankind. It’s a way of humble unity to the one who truly brings joy – Christ. 

When someone offends us, harms us, judges our character harshly, or the like, it is an opportunity to become more like Christ on the cross. I’ve often noticed the opposite approach, that is, as the world becomes louder in its distaste for the Church, or Christians in general, we Christians become louder in our distaste for their judgements and mockery. I’d like to propose another way; the way of Francis, which is ultimately the way of Jesus.

Let us embrace mockery, chastisement, persecution, and suffering with patience and forgiveness. Was not Jesus mocked as the Roman soldiers stripped away his clothes and placed a crown of thorns upon his head? Was He not chastised when he was brutally scourged for “crimes” he had not committed? Was he not persecuted, ordered to carry his cross, walked to the place of his death, nailed to the cross, and hung for all to see as he suffered the most painful death for each of us? Through all of this, Jesus was patient and forgiving: “forgive them for they know not what they do” (Lk 23:34). Can we not do the same for Him if he asks? 

Through this “other” way of life, I have found myself falling deeper in love with Christ than I ever thought possible. Embracing crosses out of love more than I was ever willing to or could have apart from God. Accepting chastisement, discouragement, or persecution with eyes towards God… (though these are all works in progress in my heart that will not be complete this side of Heaven). 

St. Francis was given the charge by Christ to “Go. Rebuild my Church.” I share this personal experience with the hope that St. Francis, 800 years after his death, continues to rebuild the Church through you! — Through living a life that is counter to everything the world wants from you; focusing solely on Christ’s example. Together with Christ, let us rebuild our hearts–making each a haven for the love of God.

Not seeing the clutter and mess, or simply forgetting it by pretending it isn't there doesn't actually make anything “all good” no matter how much I pretend it does. The clutter does not add value to my life. It is nothing that inspires either myself or others. If anything, it hinders all that I could do with these “hideaway” spaces if I simply dealt with the problem head on. Junk drawers beget junk cabinets which beget junk rooms; and before you know it, the garage is full and so is every closet. The problem grows. Of course I know it shouldn’t be that way; so I ensure no one opens the drawer or enters the doorway. That room is locked to save me the embarrassment and so no one sees the mess. Afterall, the house looks clean! Organized. Put together; not as much as I’d like (because I have six children); but it’s passable and the hidden mess that is my home remains hidden… until the next time I have to move. 

I am going to use this analogy because I know I am not alone! Many of us do this in one form or another; most especially with our thoughts, our  feelings, our wounds; even our frustrations. “Push that down,” “Hide that away,” “Everything is fine!” For the most part that seems to work… Until the mess becomes too overwhelming to hide, or of course, when it starts spilling out, or when it is time to move. 

To say that the past year has been difficult, would be a profound understatement. It’s as if these last 365 days looked at 2020, and said: “Hold my beer!” I pray that is not true for everyone; but personally, it has been. Financial struggles, health struggles, difficulties in relationships, professional struggles, and a never ending stream of things that seem to break at the worst possible time (I’m looking at you financial struggles). Certainly, two steps forward, three steps back. 

Despite all of this, we continue to move forward. Where else shall we go? What else shall we do? I would be lying if I said it has been all bad! There have been many wonderful things also! New relationships and great consolations. Still, it has not been easy. Perhaps much of this struggle is directly related to the stuff I shove down in boxes and tuck away to deal with later, because it just seems too difficult and overwhelming right now. If you haven’t figured it out by now, I am probably not talking about minimalism or decluttering (at least, not in the usual sense). I also use this analogy, because it is how the Lord spoke to my heart, and revealed some things that I need to work on; no matter how much I don’t want to.  

I have heard for years that I am steady, patient, joyful and a great encourager. Yet, internally (especially recently) I seldom feel that way. Over this past year I have been battling severe depression, and anxiety. That may be very surprising to people that know me fairly well. But, I know that I am not alone in this. I know many reading this may be fighting the same battle as well! Perhaps it is related to a rough childhood, a difficult relationship, a traumatic experience, or simply seems to have come out of nowhere; perhaps it is related to experiences in the workplace, maybe even experiences working in ministry, for a church. Whatever it may be, I know it can be easy to tuck that all away in a box and hide it. Put on the smile, wear the mask, and keep busy. 

Subscribe now

Throughout my relationship with Christ, and as I have walked with him through the years one image has been very common: a journey, movement; walking with the Lord and going from here, to there - whatever, whenever and wherever that happens to be. So… Yeah, that is going to lead to some moving, some packing, some purging. I should not be surprised. 

Last year, we held our first Draw Near Retreat. The theme was on hearing God’s voice. It was a wonderful retreat, and we were blessed to see many people we have gotten to know over the years; and really focus on helping others learn to hear and discern the voice of the Lord. We even shared publicly, for the first time, the full scope of the vision for our apostolate. We were overwhelmed by the encouragement and support. It was a great day! From our perspective, a successful first attempt at what will now be an annual event (also one we are willing to bring to other parishes).

Despite the good things of the day, I still found myself feeling restless and uneasy. Some of this was no doubt related to the struggles I mentioned above. Yet, it also felt different. There seemed to be an internal struggle; a tension… the same tension I feel with clutter and disorganization. A similar restlessness that only seemed to be growing more over recent weeks and months. 

That night, I could not sleep. Well… At least not for long. I would fall asleep and have the same recurring dream. In this dream, I was preparing for another move. Packing boxes, moving furniture, all the things I mentioned that I do not like. I didn’t seem to have the same dread I feel with moving in general. But, I was aware, this move was a very big one; an important one. There was the uneasiness that is normal to a new move, but also a joyful anticipation.  

As the dream continued, I realized I had help in all the things I dislike with moving: the sorting, the packing, the moving furniture. It was the Lord! Again, this dream repeated throughout the night, and so did the Lord’s message. For the sake of not making this long blog post even longer, I will paraphrase the conversation with the Lord as we prepared for moving day:

Me: Lord, I have moved so many times. I really don't enjoy it.

The Lord: Don't worry! Help is on the way. We've got a good crew! But, you must leave behind those things which do not belong. What is not fitting for where we are going. You must trust me that I have something better. Rest in all that I have given you!  I have prepared a place for you! It's time to move. Will you come with me?

Me: Yes, Lord! Where else would I go?

The Lord: Then you must leave behind those things which do not belong. What is not fitting for where we are going.

I began to realize the answer to my own question, “How can I leave behind anything that does not belong and is not needed… if I continue to hide the clutter and not deal with the mess? As this dream continued, I kept hearing the phrase: 

“He is good at what He does. He knows how to pack. How to make it fit, and how to make the most of the space. What has to come with us. What must be left behind. What has to be handled with care because it is fragile. And what is of the greatest value.”

I then had the realization that what I needed most, was to let the Lord do the decluttering; to fling open the closet, and allow him to work on all those things that I have hidden and tucked away for so long. As I said at the beginning, I am no stranger to moving. But what has often eluded me?  Moving well. Not just physically in terms of dwelling somewhere, but also internally.  I linger, not knowing where to begin. I throw stuff in the box to deal with later and never do. I never get settled. There is clutter. It does not show on my face. You cannot hear it in my voice. But, this makes it hard to truly feel at “home.”  

What I realized the Lord was saying in all of this: "It's time to move." By “move” here I mean, drawing near to Him and becoming the person He created me to be. He's already prepared the place. He is just waiting for me to let Him handle all the things that I don’t want to deal with. He was saying, "Now let's deal with the clutter. Let's deal with the stuff that you throw in the box to ignore. So you don't have to look at it or think about it. But it's still there… even when you don't see it… I have much better for you. And here, you will find your comfort." 

Recently, I was blessed to speak with a former colleague who is a Catholic counselor. She asked me how things had been going. I told her, in my typical optimistic idealistic way, how things were going, how faith is strong and obstacles are being overcome. THAT IS TRUE, despite what I have said so far! Yet, she heard something else in my voice: “You know Fred, it’s good to hear that you see things this way, but it is also okay to be hurt, to be upset, to feel let down.” Like the best punch in the gut I ever received, I realized she was right. She was saying the same thing the Lord had been speaking to my heart as well. 

With good intentions, wanting to be faithful, being by nature an optimistic idealist, I shove everything down, hide it in a box, tuck it away, and the only thing people see is the face I put on. That is not a lack of genuineness. I don’t know how to be anything but “real.” But it is an overreliance upon myself. It is inviting Jesus into my heart, yet boarding up the rooms I don’t want him to enter. 

Share

What’s the Point? 

All of this is really meant to say one thing. The Lord has better for you. He has a deeper healing, a greater peace. It might mean facing things you have wanted to ignore. It might mean many tears or asking the Lord some really hard questions. It might mean seeking the help of a good doctor or counselor or taking some medicine for a season. It might mean your friends are going to need to let you lay your head on their shoulder for a while; your family will have to be a little patient with you; you may have to say “no” to more things. Through it all, you are not alone! 

The Lord is with you and He is ready to do the work, you only need to invite Him in and surrender to what is needed. What He desires is a home within your heart - a home that is uncluttered, where there are no hiding places; a “nest of love” in the words of St Padre Pio. Let the Lord begin to declutter, purge and pack. He is ready to help you draw closer to Him. No matter what you are going through, no matter what struggles you may be having, the Lord says: “I know the plans I have for you, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a future and a hope.” (Jeremiah 29:11)

With that, I would invite you to pray this prayer. Make it your prayer every day. 

My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself, and that I think I am following your will does not mean I am actually doing so.

But I believe the desire to please you does in fact please you. And I hope I have that desire in all I am doing. I hope I will never do anything apart from that desire. And I know if I do this you will lead me by the right road though I may know nothing about it. I will trust you always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will not fear, for you will never leave me to face my perils alone. - Prayer of Abandonment (Thomas Merton)

Following up from my last video, I wanted to share some insights into how we know whether or not our spiritual life is “healthy,” how we can evaluate it, and insights that will help you start to engage in growing in your spiritual life no matter what season of life you’re in.

I’m confident there are little nuggets in here for anyone who is serious about their faith life!

Enjoy!

In this first of three videos in a series, Eric Gallagher reflects on the necessity of making our spiritual health a priority. He shares the need to not only take accountability for our own spiritual health but also for the spiritual health of others in our work of discipleship and evangelization.

Are You Wanting to Take Your Spiritual Life Seriously in 2024?

Check out the 21 Days to a Better Prayer Life Challenge which runs throughout the month of January. This challenge is a program of by Suscipe and includes;

• daily reflections

• a printed prayer journal

• access to a community of others who are committed to growing in their spiritual life

• and more!

Learn More at: www.suscipe.co/21days

What has been the struggle in the Advent Journey this year? Busyness. Activities. This rehearsal and that one. This thing needs done and so does that one. It also seems that the world, whether intentionally or not, tries to cram everything it can into the end of the year; even when it seems unnecessary; especially given what should be the focus for this time of year. Added to this of course, there is the hustle and bustle of holiday shopping. The promise of more “Christmas for your money!” and “I love you this many dollars’ worth!” can be hard to resist. Yet, this has not been so much of a challenge for me this year. It really has been just plain busyness; and a sense of what this season is supposed to be about that seemed this year much harder to reconcile with the experiences around me.

Finding myself feeling a bit like Charlie Brown this Advent, I have wrestled with a sense of anxiety and sadness that has been hard to shake. I would not say that I have found myself in a place of desolation, because I believe this time has been one in which the Lord has been doing much work in my heart: my own, “O come, O come, Emmanuel, and ransom captive Israel that mourns in lonely exile here until the Son of God appear.” This seems fitting.

As I was reflecting on this, I realized, I am not alone in this. I have every confidence that some of you reading have felt this same way. That very short Fourth Week of Advent is fast approaching, and you are saying to yourself, “Where did it go?” You may be tempted to discouragement. For this reason, I would like to both invite and encourage you to consider a better way of thinking about this; and I pray that it will be helpful in your journey toward Christmas!

First, I would like invite you to spend some time reflecting on a few passages of Scripture:

Lamentations 3:22-23
The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases, his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is thy faithfulness.

Matthew 20:1-16
“For the kingdom of heaven is like a householder who went out early in the morning to hire laborers for his vineyard. After agreeing with the laborers for a denarius a day, he sent them into his vineyard. And going out about the third hour he saw others standing idle in the market place; and to them he said, ‘You go into the vineyard too, and whatever is right I will give you.’ So they went. Going out again about the sixth hour and the ninth hour, he did the same. And about the eleventh hour he went out and found others standing; and he said to them, ‘Why do you stand here idle all day?’ They said to him, ‘Because no one has hired us.’ He said to them, ‘You go into the vineyard too.’ And when evening came, the owner of the vineyard said to his steward, ‘Call the laborers and pay them their wages, beginning with the last, up to the first.’ And when those hired about the eleventh hour came, each of them received a denarius. Now when the first came, they thought they would receive more; but each of them also received a denarius. And on receiving it they grumbled at the householder, saying, ‘These last worked only one hour, and you have made them equal to us who have borne the burden of the day and the scorching heat.’ But he replied to one of them, ‘Friend, I am doing you no wrong; did you not agree with me for a denarius? Take what belongs to you and go; I choose to give to this last as I give to you. Am I not allowed to do what I choose with what belongs to me? Or do you begrudge my generosity?’ So the last will be first, and the first last.”

Now, there is a lot happening in this parable of wages of course. It may not be the best use of the Scripture passage, but at the same time, I think there is something valuable that we can take from it considering our discussion so far!

Let me just say plainly, no matter how your Advent has been, it does not matter how you started. It matters how you finish! Has it been hard to embrace the season this year? If your answer is yes, it is important that you not give into despair or lean into discouragement and self-condemnation. The words of St Therese of Lisieux, from a letter to her sister Celine, comes to mind:

“The good God does not need years to accomplish His work of love in a soul; one ray from His Heart can, in an instant, make His flower bloom for eternity…

In times of aridity when I am incapable of praying, of practicing virtue, I seek little opportunities, mere trifles, to give pleasure to Jesus; for instance a smile, a pleasant word when inclined to be silent and to show weariness. If I find no opportunities, I at least tell Him again and again that I love Him; that is not difficult and it keeps alive the fire in my heart. Even though this fire of love might seem extinct I would still throw little straws upon the embers and I am certain it would rekindle.”

In other words, it’s not too late; even in the short hours of the Fourth Week of Advent!

This time of year we begin to hear the phrase “New Year’s Resolutions.” A good friend of mine introduced me to the phrase, “New Day’s Resolution.” In that phrase I think there is a lesson if your Advent Journey has been like mine. It’s not how you start, it is how you finish. The Lord’s mercies are new every morning and he offers us a fresh start! We can pray that prayer, in keeping with the Little Flower, “Lord, make up for what I have done poorly (whether actual or perceived), and bring about an even greater good.” The desire for and awareness of the need for grace during your Advent Journey is in itself evidence that the Lord is at work.

You may have found yourself like me, like Charlie Brown, wrestling with anxiety, loneliness, thoughts of not doing Advent “good enough” … But, the Lord offers us this invitation and reminder.

It is not how you start! It is how you finish! Those feelings that perhaps you have wrestled with this season (as so many often do), perhaps those can be offered up, and united to his own! Suffering is a great preparation for the coming of Christ! Because we know that he himself has born our grief; he endured the Cross for the joy that is set before him! So, to can we.

“Lord, Jesus Christ, in your infinite mercy and compassion, hear my prayer. Lord, I surrender every bit of my worry, of my fear, of my doubt to you. I offer it up to you! I unite with your own suffering. Lord, help me to see the work you are doing in my heart even though I may be unaware. Help me to understand the ways you are preparing me to receive you. Help me to be more aware of the ways in which you come into my life every day, and every moment of the day. Lord, help me to know with confidence, that your love and mercy are new every morning and that you are well able to redeem all things. Lord, Jesus, help me to prepare the manger of my heart for you; that I may receive you at Christmas, and every day. Lord, open my heart to your grace this Advent! Come, Holy Spirit! Lord, your will be done in my heart, in my home, in my relationships, in my life.”  

Subscribe now

“Mary wanted a Church built there because… who lives in the Church? Jesus.” (he said while pointing to the tabernacle)

This reminded me of our family’s practice each time we pass a Catholic Church. My kids and I always shout to God!! “Good morning!” “Hi Jesus!” “We love you, God!” 

The following conversation then takes place: 

Me: “Where does Jesus live?” 

Kids: “In the tabernacle.” (My daughter used to say “tatternapple!” <3 )

Me: “Where else does Jesus live?”

Kids: “In our hearts.” 

Mary’s purpose, always and everywhere, is to point us to her Son, Jesus. She brought Him into the world physically, and continues to point our hearts to Him! Father continued his homily challenging each child and parent to make a place for Jesus in the tabernacle of our own hearts each day, so that we can point others to Him, too. 

I love this challenge, because I need the constant reminder to do this in my own life. It is easy to believe in God, to go to mass, to maintain the look of holiness or faith… but to forget to invite Jesus into the temple of our heart each day. One can be an avid church goer, but trapped in sin; gossip, addiction, unforgiveness, pride. All of these things, and so much more, create walls around the temple of our heart. These walls not only keep us from loving others well or living a life of holiness, but they keep God out… out of his rightful home in our hearts. (I share this from experience… as God has to constantly chisel away my own walls.)

So, how can we, like Mary, invite God into our hearts each day? Here are a few simple ways: 

Subscribe now

• When you think of God at any moment during the day, don’t let the moment pass! Pause whatever you are doing, and say a prayer. This can be a traditional memorized prayer or simply, “I love you God. Help me today to be more like you.” 

• If you find yourself thinking or speaking badly about another person, apologize to God and offer a prayer for that person instead. If you’ve spoken badly to another person about someone, verbalize a compliment about that person to make reparations for the way you harmed their character. 

• Do you struggle with vanity or pride? Write a bible verse or quote on your mirror that reminds you of God rather than yourself. One of my favorites is, “You are dust and to dust you shall return.” It reminds me to always reflect on death and live each day as if it could be my last. It also reminds me that this body is but ash held together by God’s love; it is nothing to be vain about. 

• When a spouse, child, friend, or loved one speaks to you, is in front of you, or requests time from you, turn your phone to airplane mode. I know this can be hard, but let us each be challenged to love the person in front of us! After all, that person is a living walking tabernacle of Christ, too! 

• Do you dislike house chores or grow angry when those things always fall on you? Instead of getting angry or resentful, pray for the person or situations you are angry about. Ask God to soften your heart to love serving others… even at the sacrifice of yourself.  

• Try reading a chapter a day of Imitation of Christ! (Don’t worry they are short chapters.) It is a great daily reflection on one’s personal defects and ways God is moving in each heart.  

How do you make your heart into a temple for God? Share in the comments below!

(Pause for a moment to answer this for yourself. Why did you answer the way you did?) 

He pulled from the response of a Saint (I want to say it was John of the Cross but don’t quote me on that!)... and the Professor said that it is better to have a director who is learned than one who is holy, because someone who is holy simply knows how they grew in holiness, but one who is learned knows how to lead others there. I never forgot that answer… perhaps not for the reason you may think.

I never forgot it because I wasn’t sure if I agreed. Now… who am I to argue with a Saint? Who am I to argue with a professor FAR more wise than myself? But I did think the question required more prayer and reflection on my part, because my first response to his question was that I would rather have a director who is holy than one who is simply wise. If a person is BOTH, that is ideal, but if I only get to choose one… I would rather choose holiness over knowledge. 

Here is my reflection on why…

Subscribe now

I struggle often with the world’s constant pursuit and display of knowledge. Now, Scripture says, “fools despise wisdom and instruction,”1 so please do not misunderstand what I am saying. I am not saying we should all remain foolish and avoid growing in understanding; that would be foolish! However, I see so many who love knowledge and wisdom solely for the sake of knowing… perhaps for the sake of showing others they are wise. I actually often see this in the Catholic/Christian world. How many need to have the next best approach to ministry (even though so often it’s the same approach just packaged and explained differently)? How so many want to show they know more than the other or have a better grasp on teachings than another through unnecessary arguments or division… “Catholic one-ups-manship” is how it often feels. 

My first experience of this was when I was hired to be a Catholic missionary for a summer. The missionaries were all talking about their favorite professors at their Catholic universities or seminaries and it felt a lot like the people of Corinth arguing among themselves, “I belong to Paul,” or “I belong to Apol′los,” or “I belong to Cephas,” or “I belong to Christ.”2 In Scripture, they argued among themselves to show who was better or more blessed based on who baptized them. I wouldn’t have articulated it this way back then, because I knew almost nothing about the Catholic faith… but thinking back, it felt similar. They “shared” their favorite Saints and what they liked about them, but it felt more like trying to prove why their Saint was better than the other. 

While this was my first experience of this in a Catholic setting, I saw it at the beginning of each summer when I led college students through mentorship programs. It never failed that others would be discouraged during Catholic conversations with their peers. Each summer, I (and Fred) had to meet with individuals early on to encourage them as they shared that they did not feel good enough or smart enough to serve God. 

This is why I had to reflect on the professor’s question more… because I think if someone is simply learned, it can lend itself to a need to show how wise he or she is and perhaps tend towards pride. But one who is holy, first, receives the gift of wisdom and knowledge from God; wisdom to lead others to holiness and virtue; not to discouragement. 

I love reading “Imitation of Christ” by Thomas a Kempis because it often humbles me in the ways I need to grow. I can’t say I have a favorite book or chapter, because they all shine light into the darkened places of my heart and mind, but here is one that humbles me often: 

“What good does it do to speak learnedly about the Trinity if, lacking humility, you displease the Trinity? Indeed it is not learning that makes a man holy and just, but a virtuous life makes him pleasing to God. I would rather feel contrition than know how to define it. For what would it profit us to know the whole Bible by heart and the principles of all the philosophers if we live without grace and the love of God? Vanity of vanities and all is vanity, except to love God and serve Him alone.”3

Upgrade to support our mission!

I believe that God can work more readily in a heart that is holy and humble than one that is learned and seeks knowledge above all else. Again, I am not saying do not seek knowledge; “a discerning heart seeks knowledge.”4 However, Scripture and history would show that God works, and often chooses, the humble, poor, unwise, or unqualified to show his great love and mercy. Among many saints, St. Bernadette Soubirous is a beautiful example of this. I do not know much about her, to be fair. What I do know comes from a reference made by another Saint I love and from a 30 minute children’s movie my kids love! 

St. Bernadette was the young girl who received the apparitions of Our Lady of Lourdes. She once said in an exchange with her superior, “It was because I was the poorest and the most ignorant that the Blessed Virgin chose me. If she had found someone more ignorant than me, she would have chosen her.”

The passage I began this article with, in the first book of proverbs reads, “fools despise wisdom and instruction,” but that full verse reads, “the fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge; fools despise wisdom and instruction.”5 Our journey towards knowledge in God and the faith begins in our relationship with God. It begins in our pursuit of holiness and humility. It begins in our fear of the Lord. 

I would prefer a director who is holy, because one that is holy receives not just the knowledge given through personal study and worldly instruction… but one who is holy and fears the Lord receives the gift of knowledge from God. One who is holy first grows in relationship with God and thus, “the Spirit of the Lord shall rest upon him, the spirit of wisdom and understanding, the spirit of counsel and might, the spirit of knowledge and the fear of the Lord.”6 

I felt led to share this reflection amidst my past articles about the Holy Spirit and charisms. There are many who have the gift of wisdom, knowledge, understanding, or council, but if they do… it is because they first seek Christ! As we grow in relationship with the Spirit, these supernatural gifts manifest. I believe that if one is truly learned in the mysteries of the Lord in a way that leads others to God, it is because they are first holy and fear the Lord. 

I share this solely as encouragement for others. It is so easy to grow weary and discouraged when we see the ways we lack–whether in knowledge of the faith or in giftedness. However, do not grow weary. Simply turn to God and seek first the kingdom. 

“The teaching of Christ is more excellent than all the advice of the saints… there are many who hear the Gospel often but care little for it because they have not the spirit of Christ… whoever wishes to understand fully the words of Christ must try to pattern his whole life on that of Christ.”7 

Before all else, we must seek to grow in holiness and become more like Christ. What he wishes for our lives is sure to follow!