Saint Peter leaps into the water to go after Our Risen Lord in today's Gospel. He gathers up his garment and just goes for it. Splash! Right in. After three times denying Christ during His Passion, Saint Peter has truly demonstrated his turn around, his volta, if you will. This image of his light garments puddling around him as he swam toward Christ makes me giggle. I look back on my relatively middle-sized life. I'm just freshly thirty-four. I look back and wonder, when did I jump in the water after recognizing Our Lord? Me, a nearly middle child who maintains relationships and keeps the balance in the boat. When? Saint Peter here teaches us to leap after Our Lord when we recognize Him, when we know in our hearts it's the right thing to do. Whether others don't know or don't splash on in. I was a sophomore in high school, and it was our Spring Break choir trip in Arkansas. One Saturday night of our tour we sang at a Catholic church at the vigil Mass, right off to the side of the altar. And when the time came for the Consecration? When we were in a church with no kneelers and no bells, none of the familiarities of home? My palms broke into a wild sweat and my face a deep blush. Should I kneel? Should I? I'm in choir formation and no one else is kneeling. Flickering eyes left and right assured me that it would be just me. I splashed in. I knelt quietly with eyes very firmly shut, teeth fastened tightly, determined to be calm while simultaneously leaping after Our Lord. For me and my traditions, I needed to kneel, I needed to acknowledge this was how we did it in my family, no matter how awkward I looked on top of being an awkward sophomore. When I peeped open slowly before shuffling down the side aisle for Communion, I saw others of my friends kneeling. Maybe I was the inspiration, maybe they needed to know it was okay, or maybe they happened to kneel too on their own, making their own brave splash. Whether you're a young adult struggling to evangelize inconspicuously at your new job, fresh out of campus ministry at college or you're a grandmother attending a new volunteer training, splash in, sister. Just splash in like Saint Peter. [bctt tweet="Whenever the opportunity arises, splash after Our Lord."] If today you recognize Our Lord, pray for the courage to go after Him, follow in His steps, and do the right thing. Nell O'Leary is a recovery lawyer who lives in the great city of Saint Paul with her husband and four children. She's passionate about hot cocoa, the oxford comma, blogging, and her role as Managing and Content Editor for Blessed is She. Find out more about her here.

I fell in love with Scripture while reading the Acts of the Apostles. One night I sat down with my Bible, determined that if I was going to be a real youth minister/Christian, I should read and know more of the Scriptures than I did. I can only assume it was the Holy Spirit who inspired me to start with Acts, because I was so captured I read it through in one sitting. This account of the lame man being healed made for a compelling start. Saints Peter and John stroll into the temple for prayer one afternoon and notice a crippled beggar—probably not an uncommon sight. But when they approach the man, Saint Peter calls on the name of Jesus and boom, the man is healed. The whole thing seems pretty nonchalant considering it was a miracle. This man, who had been lame from birth, has just been restored to “perfect health” and Saint Peter doesn’t see what all the fuss is about. He prayed with complete confidence in Christ. Saint Peter believed that Jesus was with him, wanted to heal the man, could heal him, and would. Talk about trust. Too often when I pray, I play it safe. It may look like faith when I add “Your will be done” after voicing a petition, but it’s really me giving God an out. Just in case You don’t come through for me, Lord, I will console myself by saying that it must not have been Your will. There can be faith in those prayers—the prayer that Jesus Himself prayed—but if I’m honest, I’m not praying it with a heart of surrender, but rather one full of fear. Saint Peter’s faith in Jesus after the Resurrection is so unshakable that he is bewildered by their doubt. It’s so simple, he thinks. Jesus is the Messiah, and He can do anything—not the least of which is to heal this crippled man. The real miracle here isn’t the physical healing, but that Jesus is who He says He is. That He sees our suffering and wants to heal us. Jesus wants to give us all the faith to believe in Him and to ask for miracles. Even Saint Peter needed the gift of faith. His faith, like all faith, was a virtue infused by the Holy Spirit. Let us pray today for a fuller, stronger faith and the courage to exercise our faith confidently. [bctt tweet="Jesus is the Messiah, and He can do anything. // @thebethdavis"] Today pray for faith, and then do not be afraid to ask for miracles. Beth Davis is a lover of Jesus, an aunt to five beautiful humans, and a full time youth minister in Flagstaff, Arizona. She is passionate about winning the hearts of young people for Jesus through discipleship. You can find out more about her here.

To have Jesus walk beside you, to tell you why He came to earth, how His coming was foretold from the beginning of Scripture, can you imagine? To hear Christ tell you that the Messiah you need isn't the Messiah you expected. To ask Christ to stay with you, to have a meal with you, but not simply a meal—the very giving of His body and blood as food for your eternal soul—wouldn't it be incredible to be there? This Gospel passage is a story that I want to cling to, that I want to live in. I want to experience Christ personally telling me He is alive. To be in His presence as He explains how He is the fulfillment of God's promises to me and every person He has created. To have my heart burn in His presence—in His Eucharistic presence. To walk with Him in His kingdom. The Risen Christ is in our presence right now, still, today. Our internal Easter celebrations need to know this. We are walking with He Who has risen from the dead just as these lucky few on their way to Emmaus. Christ's kingdom on earth continues from His Resurrection until today. His presence in the world and His kingdom in the Church is active and alive today. His kingdom reigns and His very presence is with us in the Eucharist just as His physical body was present with those Emmaus travellers. I want to remember that burning fact of Christ's presence today. I want to feel that excitement and burning love just like these blessed Gospel figures. [bctt tweet="The Risen Christ is in our presence right now, still, today. "] Let us continue to celebrate Easter in our hearts today by recognizing Christ's presence in our hearts, in the people around us, in His Church, and most importantly in His physical presence in the Eucharist. The same Risen Christ who walked to Emmaus walks with us today, Alleluia! Christy Isinger is the mom to five lovely, loud children living in the Canadian wilds. You can find out more about her here.

How beautiful that Jesus meets Saint Mary Magdalene in her pain. Jesus is not repelled by her tears or the depth of her sadness, but rather He calls to her and approaches her in the midst of her grief and suffering. Today is Easter Tuesday. Each day this week is celebrated within the Church as Easter Day. Maybe by now we have returned to work or to school, our vacations have ended, and perhaps most of the chocolate bunnies have been eaten and some of the Easter decorations are beginning to be put away. But the celebrating needs to continue, because the graces are still being given. There is still so much more Resurrection life and joy to be received. Sometimes we don't always feel that we have received all the joy and new life we may have been hoping for at Easter. Maybe the celebrations remind us of loved ones we have lost or other sorrows we are experiencing within our hearts. Sometimes upsetting things happen during this Easter season which make us question how this could be. Can we put ourselves in the place of Saint Mary Magdalene in this story? Can we imagine ourselves as her after she had just witnessed the trauma of watching her dearest friend and Savior put to death, and now she comes to the tomb releasing some of her pain through her tears? Can you hear Jesus call to you as He calls to her? "Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you looking for?" Do you hear Him call your name in the midst of whatever it is you are experiencing today? Whether that be in joyful newness and gratitude of Easter blessings, or in the midst of a lasting pain you may be experiencing from unresolved issues you've been hoping God would fix. Maybe like Saint Mary Magdalene you are grieving a significant loss or experiencing some sort of deep suffering within yourself or someone you love. Or, maybe you don't really feel anything particularly bad happening right now, nor anything particularly good either. God calls to you within the ordinary and mundane as well. He calls your name. Hear Him. Open your heart to encounter His presence. God doesn't always take away all of the pain or the dry ordinariness of daily life. But He does encounter us within whatever it is we are experiencing. And that is some joyful news. That is something very good to run and tell our friends about. [bctt tweet="The Lord encounters us within whatever it is we are experiencing."] Today may each of us hear Jesus call us by name. Like the Good Shepherd who calls His little lambs, may we be able to hear His voice. May the sound of your name upon His voice fill you with renewed life and joy this Easter day. Wishing you a very blessed Easter season! Mary Catherine Craige is a lover of creativity and learning new things. When she is not guiding the development of young children through Montessori methods, you can find her behind her harp, taking an art class, or writing silly poems. You can find out more about her here.

I knelt with my two girls in Mass today and just breathed in the love. It was at the tail end of the Liturgy of the Eucharist and we had gotten back to our pew and taken to our knees. Having arrived a little late we took up a pew in the back and were without padded kneelers. The temperatures in Arizona have begun to climb and so have our hem lengths, leaving our knees bare to the hard carpet in the sanctuary. One on either side, their small frames pressed into my sides and I pulled them closer in the quiet of the moment saying a prayer of gratitude for them and for the peace that God provides in those minutes. I converted to the faith almost ten years ago and the peace and joy that have come since that conversion is hard to describe. In the unknowable path of my life, I now have a trust that God will make known to me what He desires me to know. I accept what He gives and follow His will. He guides my path. I couldn’t fathom this joy in the Eucharist. I come to Mass weary, frazzled, and rarely on time, and I sit and breathe in this joy. I experience the sacrifice of the Mass, listen to the Scriptures, and chant prayers in this joy. Reading today’s Gospel the two women, Saint Mary Magdalene and the Other Mary, arrived at the tomb in a state of shared sorrow but left with a shared joy. Jesus gave them not only instructions but hope. Christ filled them with joy and made known to them their path. You have made known to me the paths of life; you will fill me with joy in your presence. I attended Eucharistic Adoration for the first time when I was taking RCIA classes. The real presence of Christ in the Eucharist was my only real hang up to conversion, but I went anyway. I prayed for Christ to speak to me and He made His presence known. In this simple reality, I found my peace. He is there waiting for us all. [bctt tweet="Christ filled them with joy and made known to them their path."] When was the last time you attended Eucharistic Adoration? His very real presence is waiting for you, to fill you with joy and the make your path known. Let Him turn your sorrow into joy and fill your heart with peace. MaryRuth Hackett is a full-time wife and mother doing her best to teach her four children to love God and country. You can find out more about her here.

One Thursday in Lent I made a trip to my doctor's office. Unbeknownst to me, she was really, really behind schedule. As the minutes ticked by in that perpetual waiting room—and probably right at the moment when I would have lost my patience—an older woman sitting across from me offered an apology, for it was her daughter who was in the appointment ahead of me. "I'm so sorry to keep you waiting," she said. "We drove five hours just to get here. There's no one in our small town who can treat her." And then,"She waited a year just to be seen." And then, "My daughter lives with me, you know. She's too sick to care for herself." And then, "My husband died of Alzheimers over a year ago. It's just really hard sometimes . . . ." Over the course of a half hour I listened as she allowed the worry and grief and loneliness painted on her face to be given a voice. As I reflect on that experience more, I realize that her experience wasn't that different from the worry, grief, and loneliness that has plagued my heart at times, and that must have also plagued Saint Mary Magdalene's heart upon her arrival at our Lord's tomb on Easter Sunday: They have taken the Lord from the tomb, and we don't know where they put him. Haven't we all voiced some likeness of her grief in the past, Sisters? Haven't we all cried out: As if that wasn't hard enough, Lord, this . . . this is too much to bear. And yet moments later Saint Mary Magdalene meets an Angel who reveals what Jesus had promised during His teaching: Do not be afraid! I know that you are seeking Jesus. He has been raised, just as He said. We are the Mary Magdalenes of the world, sisters: broken, and yet redeemed. Sinful, and yet called to holy perfection. Grieving, and yet filled with joy. For the rest of our lives we will live, minute-by-minute, in the reality of both the Cross and the Resurrection. Knowing that Christ has died for us and that He has redeemed the world this Easter Sunday won't take away our suffering. But His resurrection can teach us that He loves us so intimately to be present in the midst of all of it, evening in a doctor's waiting room. [bctt tweet="We are the Mary Magdalenes of the world, sisters: broken, and yet redeemed."] Saint Mary Magdalene, pray for all the women of Blessed is She this Easter Sunday. Amen. Karen Schultz is a Birth Doula who hails from the Land of 10,000 Lakes, where she is often found in or near one of them. You can find out more about her here.

This is the story of salvation history. And because Christ died for your sins, this is your history, too. "In the beginning . . . " In the beginning God made the world and it was good. Sin entered in, the world fell, but God—in His tender mercy—made a plan to save it, to save us. "God Himself will provide the sheep for the holocaust." Abraham told his son those words as they climbed up the hill, not knowing what would happen in the following moments, let alone in the following centuries. And God did provide a male Sheep, His head entangled in a thorn bush, as the perfect holocaust. "But I will make the Egyptians so obstinate that they will go in after them." Through the generations mankind's hearts have been obstinate. My heart has been obstinate. God allows us to make our own choices, just as He allowed the Egypt's chariots and charioteers to choose, in their stubborn pride, to run straight into ruin. And yet: "With great tenderness I will take you back . . . . With enduring love I take pity on you, says the Lord your redeemer." Over and over again, day after day, century after century, God stayed true to us. "I will renew with you the everlasting covenant." The covenant is that we are God's. He has formed us in the stillness and the secret of our mothers' wombs, and His love for us is immeasurable. We are His, and He will not abandon us. "Shine with joy for your Maker." This Truth of who and Whose we are brings purpose and joy to our lives. Just as Israel responded to God with repentance and worship, so do we by the grace of God. "I will give you a new heart . . . a new spirit . . . . You shall be My people and I will be your God." Our relationship is restored time and time again and our understanding of and love for the Lord deepens. "If we have died with Christ we shall also live with Him." And this is the fulfillment of the covenant. The Lamb of God has taken away the sins of the world and through Him we can have everlasting life as the daughters of the King. And so this tale of how God created and redeemed the world is your story, my story, our story and it will go on for eternity. As we live it out now, remember the words that were spoken at the Resurrection: "Do not be afraid." [bctt tweet="We can have everlasting life as the daughters of the King. // @BonnieEngstrom"] Remember the tale of how much God loves you. Revel in this. Bonnie Engstrom is a writer, baker, speaker and homemaker. She lives with her husband and six children in central Illinois. You can find out more about her here.

How easy it is to skip the hard part when we know what happens on Sunday. We are tempted in our humanity to gloss over the anguish and sting of this terrible day . . . sorrow and shame make us want to look away. We each receive the choice today: the choice to keep our eyes fixed on the Cross or to look away. Approach the Cross and see Him hanging there on this Good Friday. Enter deeply into the intense and inescapable reality that you had a hand in all of this. You may be tempted to lean away from these pains to indulge in the luxury of knowing how this story ends, plans for Sunday’s dinner, or the pastel dress hanging in the closet. Approach Jesus Christ crucified and do not look away. Gaze upon His arms, outstretched in His infinite love, and let it change you, once again, forever. Let this day pierce your heart in a new way with the magnitude of this kind of sacrifice—this kind of love. Lean in close to His bleeding heart and let it shake the complacency of half-hearted faith, shatter self-seeking interests, wipe away all distrust, and cause a brand new surrender to His holy will. [bctt tweet="Approach Jesus Christ crucified and do not look away. // @emwilss"] What is holding you back from approaching Christ today? Shed it, sister, and throw yourself at the foot of the Cross. Emily Wilson-Hussem planned her whole life to become a sports reporter but turned out to be a Catholic musician and speaker at the hand of God. She lives out of her suitcase and travels across the world speaking to people of all ages. The heart of her ministry is offering encouragement to teen girls in search of their true identity, and she loves every second of it. She is the author of I Choose the Sky. You can find out more about her here.

On the morning of my college graduation, my fellow graduates and I gathered on the long shaded walkway leading to the auditorium. Inside, our family and friends were waiting; outside, the eager seniors mingled with the faculty, waiting to begin. At the signal, the professors lined both sides of the walkway and we the Class of 1995 started the procession. As we walked past them, our professors began to clap. For us. I wasn’t expecting their applause, and it blew my mind. We students had spent four years with these professors; we had discussed their brilliance in dorms and dining halls. To have these experts clapping for us felt like Bizarro World. At the same time, it felt like both an affirmation and a sending-forth. Their claps assured us: you have something to offer, and it’s time to take that something to the world. In a similar way, the Apostles were not expecting Jesus to wash their feet. But with His gentle insistence, they accept that they need to grow beyond the image of how things used to be. They realize that they are on the threshold of a new reality, one in which they will be called to assume roles they thought only another person was qualified to fill. And through Jesus’s example, they learn that—paradoxically—one of the most important traits in a leader is humility. Humility has many definitions, but I like to think of it as the recognition that everyone out there has something to teach you. Unless you are God, you need others to help fill in the gaps of wisdom that you don’t—can’t—possess. And when I consciously approach my high school students with the awareness that every one of them has something to teach me, it changes my interactions with them. I’m still the teacher, but I’m a teacher who respects that the other person’s perspective offers something I lack. When we do that, both parties end up stronger. So it’s a wonderfully complex reading, this Holy Thursday Gospel. It’s a reminder that for each of us, there comes a time when we have to embrace a new vision of ourselves as someone who is qualified to lead others. But it also reminds us, with the indelible image of the basin of water and the bent head, that the wisest leaders are not afraid to be humble. [bctt tweet="Humility is the recognition that everyone out there has something to teach you."] Think of someone you know. Approach your next interaction thinking, “What can I learn from this person?” Ginny Kubitz Moyer is a mother, high school English teacher, and BBC period drama junkie. She is the author of Random MOMents of Grace: Experiencing God in the Adventures of Motherhood and Mary and Me: Catholic Women Reflect on the Mother of God. Ginny lives in the San Francisco Bay Area with her husband, two boys, and about thirty thousand Legos. You can find out more about her here.

Tomorrow evening starts the Easter Triduum, which is considered the summit of the Liturgical Year. For some of us, we feel hope as we glimpse the finish line of a fruitful Lent. For others of us, we experience a wave of defeat because Lent is almost over and we are so far from the expectations we were enthused on Ash Wednesday. This morning I was feeling something was off inside of me. When I read Jesus’ words in today’s Gospel, “One of you will betray me,” I instinctively reacted like the Apostles saying, "Surely it is not I, Lord?" But as I looked inside my heart, I could feel that my heart was cooled. From the outside, I may have looked like I was doing all the right things, but inside there was a disconnection. I was going through the motions, but it wasn’t reaching my heart. Frustrated, I went to the Adoration chapel and knelt before Jesus and turned inward. I could see all the little betrayals I had been ignoring. I could see all the little things that had been crowding Jesus out of my heart. I cried and apologized to Jesus. Instead of rebuking me, I felt Him look at me tenderly and ask, “Why have you waited so long to bare my soul to Me? Why do you doubt my love?” With that, the wall had been broken, and I felt reconnected with Our Lord once again. If you are feeling the same and want to hashtag the last forty days as a #lentenfail, it’s not too late to reconnect with Our Lord. Pour your heart out to Him. Bare your soul. Leave nothing back. Let Jesus hold you close and lean into Him. He understands your weakness and wants to wipe your tears and lift you back up. In turn, don’t let Jesus walk these next few days alone. Kneel with Him in the garden, stand by Him when His friends run, carry the cross with Him, and weep at His nailed feet. Show Him that you don’t want to betray His love. Instead, walk the road to Calvary with Him and bring comfort to His Sacred Heart. [bctt tweet="Show Our Lord that you don’t want to betray His love. // @bobbi_rol"] Do you feel like you’ve failed Lent? Or is there something you have not done well this Lent? Spend time alone with God and speak to Him about it. Then ask for His grace to make the most of these last days of Lent. Bobbi Rol is a wife, a mama of four and a blogger learning to love God in the midst of dishes, laundry and swinging light sabers. You can find out more about her here.

Do you ever have certain memories or conversations from your childhood that just stand out? I remember driving somewhere with my Mom once. We were talking about Jesus' death on the cross. I have a distinct memory blurting out, "Well Mom, I hate those people who nailed Jesus to the cross and killed Him. How could they do that?" She smiled sweetly at me and explained it was the sin of the whole world that sent Jesus to Calvary, including both of us. It was years later before I truly felt I knew what she meant. When I read and sit with this Gospel, it makes me really uncomfortable. Deep in my soul, I know I am both Saint John the Beloved and Judas the betrayer. My relationship with Jesus has torn me down and built me up in ways I could not have imagined. I ache for the Living Word to transform me. I seek for an intimate relationship with Jesus as Saint John the Beloved had with Him. I cannot imagine what it must have been for Saint John to sit as Jesus' side, listening to the beat of His Sacred Heart. But at the same time, I have to admit I am also Judas and Saint Peter. It is uncomfortably easy for me to grow lazy, ungrateful, and demanding with Jesus. I don't take that risk to pray with someone. I ignore those gentle promptings of the Spirit to more closely examine myself. I gossip and take God's name in vain. I complain and whine when Jesus leads me to difficult places. I do not know what your forty days have been like. I do not know if you identify more right now with Judas, or Saints John and Peter. But wherever you are, sister, Jesus is waiting for you. He needs you to keep Him company in Gethsemane. Do not follow Jesus at a distance like Saint Peter in the coming days . . . stay near, be close by. Because in His suffering and agony, your name is ever on His lips and in His heart. In the introduction to the book The Passion and Death of Christ Jesus, Saint Alphonsus de Ligouri says that "Saint Augustine also said that a single tear shed at the remembrance of the Passion of Jesus is worth more than a pilgrimage to Jerusalem, or a year of fasting on bread and water." [bctt tweet="Wherever you are, sister, Jesus is waiting for you. // @amoderngrace"] Whatever your Lent has been, draw close to Jesus. May each of us walk with this lonely road with Him. Patty Breen is a runner, youth minister ordinaire, and thinks old movies are the greatest thing since sliced bread. When not fundraising for World Youth Day, she is learning to find grace in all things. You can find out more about her here.

A few days before my brother moved to Luxembourg for a work assignment, he invited me, my husband, and several of his close friends to dinner at an upscale restaurant. After feasting on decadent drinks, appetizers, and entrees, one of us asked the waiter for our bills. She hesitated before pointing to my brother and said, "I'm sorry, but he already took care of it." Feeling stunned by his generous gesture we thanked him before asking his reasons for spending money on us versus saving it for his move. He said, "No, no, no. I invited you all here because I wanted to see you before I move. I won't be here for all of your birthdays and anniversaries over the next few years, so it's the least I could do." His answer was one I will always remember. In today's Gospel we find Judas asking a question similar to the ones we asked my brother. "Why was this oil not sold for three hundred days' wages and given to the poor?" Do we respond to Christ's generous gift to us of dying on the Cross by not understanding its value, or trying to return it? Do we think we know better than God the gifts (crosses, perhaps!) He has in store for us, on our journey here? My dear sisters, we are on the home stretch. We are days away from Jesus's suffering, death, and Resurrection. The time is now to not only love but to also let others love you. Without others, Martha could not have served; Lazarus could not have listened; and Mary could not have given. Jesus gave you the best gift ever by dying on the Cross for you, so don't let His love be for naught. [bctt tweet="The time is now to not only love but to also let others love you. // @RDgal37"] What are the gifts Jesus gave you this Lent? Take a moment to jot them down, or journal about them. Joan Geiger is a North Dakota native and newlywed, and in her spare time she can be found going on adventures with her husband, working as a Registered Dietitian, and drinking coffee. You can find out more about her here.

Every Ash Wednesday I prepare to begin my Lent with lofty goals and intense spiritual work alongside physical things I plan to sacrifice. We’ve all made those lists—full of extra Masses, more prayer time, arising early, and no chocolate. I always have fairly high hopes to succeed at these disciplines and achieve some state of greater spiritual holiness. And then as Lent progresses, I experience my humanity and the failure of many expectations of what I would “get out” of Lent force me to step back and acknowledge my weaknesses. For the people at the gates of Jerusalem, their expectations of what they would "get out" of Jesus were at an all-time high. As Jesus entered upon a donkey on that Palm Sunday long ago, people erupted in grand gestures of blessing and honor. His arrival, they expected, would change their circumstances. To some, He would be their earthly ruler, or a leader of armies, fitting their expectations of the Messiah. And yet not one week after their Hosannas, we share in with their outcry of “Crucify Him!” Circumstances would be changed, just not how they expected Him to do so. Easter is on the horizon; Lent is drawing to an end. What have our expectations for this season been? Have we been so focused on tangible earthly results that we’ve missed the greater picture of how Love has come to dwell in us and change us? My failure isn’t in what I didn’t accomplish this Lent, but rather that I thought I’d be the one making the changes. This year God has been teaching me how if I truly seek His plan and submit to it, then I’m succeeding, even if only a little. [bctt tweet="Love has come to dwell in us and change us."] Listen to the WHOLE story today. It’s long, but it’s good. Dig in deep this Holy Week, sisters, and be open to Christ’s gift of Himself, body and blood, soul and divinity. Drop your expectations at the foot of the Cross. Sarah Ortiz is a Catholic convert, and when not folding laundry, she can be found reading, experimenting in the kitchen, or writing at her blog. You can find out more about her here.

One God. Proclaiming the unity, the wholeness, the One Nation for which He originally created us. Two Nations. A divided people, each obstinately set in their ways. Sound familiar? Yep. Here we are, same human nature, different century. Sometimes it's the political sector, a local group, or a combox on social media. Sometimes it's within the walls of our own homes. So often we get caught up in worldly divisions, in proving the merits of our "side." And God? We often relegate Him to the back corner—and make into idols our “unfailing” opinions, our hasty reactions, our judgement of anyone in opposition to us, our guise of control. The very idols Ezekiel warns us of. This was the Achilles heel for the Pharisees in today's Gospel. They were so focused on what they might lose, they completely missed all there was to gain. They were so concerned with proving themselves right, with clinging to the upper hand of power and authority, that they couldn’t deign to bow to the ideal—the only—Power and Authority who unites. We all inherited the same fallen nature. We all play a role in either building or tearing down God's Kingdom on earth. Of course, we don't usually start out in the public arena as sinister Pharisees plotting an innocent man's death. For most of us, it starts in the unlit corners of our hearts. We chip away at the foundation with those hasty reactions, internal snap judgements, and self-interested responses to the other "side." But the good news? That's also where the building of God's kingdom starts: in the quiet corners of our hearts. It begins with our death to self in the face of pride and false control. We give life to the kingdom of wholeness when we build a foundation of charity in thought and deed. We raise high the temple of oneness when we more intentionally reach for the one tenuous string that might unite us with an opponent instead of the millions of reasons that repel. So while the rest of the world digs in to their set ways and clings to the divisions of empires that will soon fade, remember, we are not here to spend our time pointing out the other guy’s role in division. We are called to look inward, to seek our unique God-given gifts, and use them as humble builders of One Kingdom, one Nation—for the One Foundation that lasts forever. [bctt tweet="We are called to seek our unique God-given gifts. // @PosImperfect"] Where in your heart do you feel the tension of division most? Have you invited God into that struggle or pushed Him away? Ask Him today to show you the next right step toward wholeness.   Megan Hjelmstad is a wife, mom, writer and sometimes soldier whose real passion is equal parts faith and chocolate. You can find out more about her here.

In today’s Gospel, we encounter two very different reactions to Jesus’ good works and miracles. The first was anger and indignation. These people were ready to kill Jesus right then and there for the “signs” He was performing. In this moment, faced with God Himself, they chose to see His works as blasphemy, and were well-prepared to make Him pay for it. The second reaction, across the Jordan, was quite different from the first. Jesus’ good works and miracles were not perceived as reasons for rebuke or death, but for belief. These people chose to see His supernatural works as signs that He is who He says He is; He is the very Savior that Saint John the Baptist proclaimed Him to be. So what made the difference? Why such disconnect? Most of these people were Jews who were raised in the same faith and knowledge of God. They’re on the same cultural playing field here. Why were their reactions to Jesus’ works so incredibly paradoxical? The first group was unwilling to be rescued while the second group of people chose to see Jesus’ miracles as proof of God’s mercy and salvation promised throughout the Old Testament. That is the difference. A difference of heart, a difference of approach, a difference of preparation. The second group's hearts echoed the words of Jeremiah in the First Reading: “But the Lord is with me, like a mighty champion . . . Sing to the LORD, praise the Lord, for he has rescued the life of the poor from the power of the wicked.” Their voices joined that of the Psalmist: “In my distress I called upon the Lord, and he heard my voice.” We have these same options today, friends. We are about to enter Holy Week, the most profound week in the entire Liturgical Year. We will recount and celebrate events that happened over 2,000 years ago in a place far away. And yet, we really aren’t that different from the people who lived then. Our choices remain the same: we can condemn, or we can believe. We can be ready to be rescued by acknowledging our absolute need for divine help. Or we can allow pride to win and refuse to be saved. [bctt tweet="Our choices remain the same: we can condemn, or we can believe."] The choice is ours. Let’s learn from the Gospel, sisters. Let’s choose to believe and to be rescued. Olivia Spears is a middle school religion teacher turned SAHM who is married to her high school best friend. You can find out more about her here.

Holy Week is coming. And with it, the reading of the Passion. Every year, I stand up in Mass with everyone around me and we, the crowd, shout, “Crucify Him!” I have to admit that it makes me cringe to hear my voice, and those of my parents and my husband and my children, and my friends and neighbors, all shouting together, “Crucify Him!” And yet, it’s true. It is for us He was crucified. For our sins. Not for the sins of some unruly mob two thousand years ago . . . for my sins and for yours. We shout, “Crucify Him!” every day in the secret of our hearts, and then, once a year, we shout it aloud for everyone to hear. It’s a humbling thing, but I’m grateful for it, nonetheless . . . for this opportunity to enter into the Gospel, to enter into the story of the Passion. Today’s Gospel gives us another of these opportunities to enter into the life of Jesus, perhaps less well-known, but I have found it to be a really profound way to set the stage for Holy Week in my home and in my heart. This Gospel reading according to Saint John was, in the pre-1970 Missal, read on the fifth Sunday of Lent, then called “Passion Sunday” and the last two weeks of Lent, the final push before Good Friday and Easter, was called “Passiontide.” We read: “So they picked up stones to throw at him; but Jesus hid and went out of the temple area.” From these lines, from Jesus hiding Himself from the crowd who rejects Him, comes the tradition of veiling statues and crucifixes in churches and in homes on the evening of the fifth Sunday of Lent. For the preceding weeks of Lent, hopefully, we’ve been trying to focus on the ways we could better love and serve God and our neighbor. Finally, in these last two weeks, we have the opportunity to recognize and humbly admit to our own weakness and sin, and all the ways that we reject Jesus. As Catholics, we recognize the power of sacred images, and especially the Crucifix, to draw us towards Jesus. For fifty weeks of the year, the many Crucifixes in my home recall my thoughts to Jesus and His great love for me. For two weeks of the year, throughout my home, they are hidden beneath a veil of purple cloth. Covered, they become an even more visible reminder to pray and recollect my thoughts to Christ and His Passion. So, if you don’t have a Crucifix in your home, today would be a great day to get one. No time like the present. Then, consider getting some inexpensive purple cloth from the fabric store, and joining me in veiling your statues and crucifixes, entering into the Gospel, admitting our faults, and preparing our hearts for the sorrow of Holy Week and the joy of the Resurrection. [bctt tweet="It is for us He was crucified. For our sins. // @kendra_tierney"] How can you prepare for Holy Week in your home, with your family or friends? Consider the Crucifix today. Kendra Tierney is wife to a good man and mother to eight pretty good kids. Together they are fixing up a tumbledown hundred year old house. She's a writer, and a blogger, and a graphic designer, and a homeschooler, and a regular schooler. Her word art is available here. Her book, A Little Book About Confession for Children, is available here. Find out more about her here.

Today as we read a portion of the 8th chapter of the Gospel according to Saint John, we notice that the Jews are having great difficulty recognizing Jesus for Who He is. They expected a Messiah who comes blazing into town on a chariot of fire, causing quite a stir and immediately vindicating them against their enemies. But Jesus came quietly in the night. He goes about His business on His own schedule, not theirs. He has been in their midst for some time, but their high expectations blind them to the presence of their God who is before their very eyes. But don't I often run into this very dilemma myself? I like to get things done. Sometimes I am so busy running around, attempting to perform all the tasks just right, that I fail to take them to the Lord first (and during and after). I fail to ask Him whether this is something He truly wants me to do at this time, to request His help when the going gets tough, and to do it in a spirit of charity, taking time to notice Christ in the people I encounter, for I get tunnel vision to simply accomplish my task, running past or over everyone who gets in my way. Do I, too, miss Your presence in my life, Lord? Am I too set in my ways to be flexible when you’re asking me to change? Am I too certain of how I think things should play out in my life? Am I too focused on fixing this or that problem that isn’t even mine to fix? Am I too worried about the future that I fail to see the precious details of my daily life? When we fail to listen, but only want to speak—to just tell Jesus how it is—or don’t take time to see Him, it is then that we, too, fail to recognize His presence in our own lives. We can’t see Him as we have put up a barrier of pride that can only be eradicated by a docile heart. Never fear. Jesus gives us the key to a docile heart. It is simply: Remain in my word. For then “you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.” [bctt tweet="Do I miss Your presence in my life, Lord? // @Muffin_Dome"] Sit quietly in prayer with our Lord today and ask Him whether you are missing moments of His presence in your life. Ask Him to show you where you may be seeking more your heart’s desire than His. Say to Him: “Open the eyes of my heart, Lord. Not my will, but Yours.” Laurel Muff is a creator and appreciator of beautiful things. She resides with her husband and daughters in Northern California. You can find more about her here.