All speech is labored; there is nothing one can say. The eye is not satisfied with seeing nor is the ear satisfied with hearing. // Ecclesiastes 1:8 Whenever I read today’s First Reading (see Ecclesiastes 1:2-11), I’m reminded of a time during my college years when I attended Mass in a different city and the lector had a penchant for drama. The proclamation of this reading from the Ecclesiates was so vividly given, with the melodic crescendos of Ian McCellan delivering a Shakespearean monologue, that my friends and I couldn’t help but giggle the whole way through.  But I can’t blame that lector for leaning into the fabulous poetry of these words. They contain the beauty of the written—and performed—word, but also the profundity of fundamental human experience. None of us have to be very old to understand that so much of the world around us, although repetitive and rhythmic, is also completely out of our control. We do not control the sun rising and setting, the direction and strength of the winds, nor the river’s flow. Nor does the created world, as marvelous and vast as it is, satisfy our hearts. And neither do the accomplishments of human history provide our souls with purpose and fulfillment.  We as human beings are not satisfied with our own achievement, our own beauty, the accomplishments and success of the civilization we live in, or the world around us. We are meant for more, and we all contain within that longing and questioning that is impossible to find an answer to in ourselves or the natural world. We can’t escape this existential pull, just as the writer of the book of Ecclesiastes could not.  We are unsatisfied by these things because we were created for a relationship with our Creator, Who wants us to know and communicate with Him intimately. We can keep distracting ourselves from that truth by looking elsewhere for happiness and answers, but it is really only God, Who made us for Himself, Who will give us the satisfaction our souls desire.  Ask the Lord to speak to your heart and strip away all desires that do not lead you to Him.

“If your brother sins against you, go and tell him his fault between you and him alone. If he listens to you, you have won over your brother.” // Matthew 18:15 A priest offers his life in place of a father of a family in a concentration camp run by the Nazis. Both are unjustly imprisoned, but only one survives to tell the story. In today’s Gospel, Jesus tells us how to deal with speaking the truth to those we are in conflict with or who have injured us. We are supposed to speak the truth first to the individual, then if need be, have witnesses to help us speak, then to have the truth known to the whole of our community and for the community to act together towards justice (see Matthew 18:15-20).  But what happens when our societies reject justice and truth and persecute people to the point of horrific genocide? How can we be a voice in the darkness when the time for words and civil discourse have been completely abandoned?  Saint Maximilian Kolbe, whose feast is today, provides an example for us. Saint Maximilian gave his own life to save the life of a Polish soldier from the starvation chambers in Auschwitz during the Second World War. In what must have felt like hell on earth, only the example of sacrificial love could rise above the evil that was taking place. It may have appeared as if Saint Maximilian only helped save the life of one man, but his example of holiness has reverberated through time and to a world broken by unfathomable evil.  If Saint Maximilian can offer his life for another in the face of evil with a courageous spirit, we too can speak words of truth with courage. We all have situations in our lives that need to have the truth spoken in love. It may even be within ourselves, to have the courage to listen to the voice of the Holy Spirit prompting our conscience to confess our sin. It may be approaching a sensitive issue with others in our lives with understanding and wisdom, but at the same time an unwavering commitment to the truth and charity.  Saint Maximilian Kolbe, intercede for us today; help us grow in love for Christ and His Church, and serve Him boldly in truth.

“If your brother sins against you, go and tell him his fault between you and him alone. If he listens to you, you have won over your brother.” // Matthew 18:15 A priest offers his life in place of a father of a family in a concentration camp run by the Nazis. Both are unjustly imprisoned, but only one survives to tell the story. In today’s Gospel, Jesus tells us how to deal with speaking the truth to those we are in conflict with or who have injured us. We are supposed to speak the truth first to the individual, then if need be, have witnesses to help us speak, then to have the truth known to the whole of our community and for the community to act together towards justice (see Matthew 18:15-20).  But what happens when our societies reject justice and truth and persecute people to the point of horrific genocide? How can we be a voice in the darkness when the time for words and civil discourse have been completely abandoned?  Saint Maximilian Kolbe, whose feast is today, provides an example for us. Saint Maximilian gave his own life to save the life of a Polish soldier from the starvation chambers in Auschwitz during the Second World War. In what must have felt like hell on earth, only the example of sacrificial love could rise above the evil that was taking place. It may have appeared as if Saint Maximilian only helped save the life of one man, but his example of holiness has reverberated through time and to a world broken by unfathomable evil.  If Saint Maximilian can offer his life for another in the face of evil with a courageous spirit, we too can speak words of truth with courage. We all have situations in our lives that need to have the truth spoken in love. It may even be within ourselves, to have the courage to listen to the voice of the Holy Spirit prompting our conscience to confess our sin. It may be approaching a sensitive issue with others in our lives with understanding and wisdom, but at the same time an unwavering commitment to the truth and charity.  Saint Maximilian Kolbe, intercede for us today; help us grow in love for Christ and His Church, and serve Him boldly in truth.

When the crowd was put out, he came and took her by the hand, and the little girl arose. // Matthew 9:25 When I think of many long nights when I’ve had sick children, when they’ve needed to be held close as infants or cuddled as small children, I remember how important the simple action of touch can be. I may not be able to take away their pain, to relieve their suffering immediately, but nothing comforted them like my touch.  The warmth of a physical gesture meant that they were not alone, that they were in the presence of someone who loves them dearly, and that their suffering was not going unnoticed. It is incredible how much the act of a comforting touch can affect us. It’s in thinking of these times when physical touch was so important to my own children that I see how beautiful it is that Christ’s miraculous healing was through touch. In today’s Gospel the act of touching is mentioned three times: by the official begging for the healing of his daughter, in the hemorrhaging woman just touching the tassel of Christ’s cloak, and the miraculous act of Christ taking the little girl by the hand (see Matthew 9:18-26).  It is so profound that those asking Christ for healing believe so strongly in simply His touch. It is a testament not only to Christ’s obvious holiness, but also the power in the act of touch. How wonderful to know that Christ chose to heal through this vital form of human communication. Jesus could have simply willed with a thought and the hemorrhaging woman would have been healed. Or waved His hand and the girl would have been brought back to life. But instead Jesus, the Son of God Himself, touched these people with His own human hands and allowed Himself to be touched, the power of healing moving through His very clothing.  What does Christ’s touch in the Gospel say about His love for us? How can this transformative love change our hearts today?

“Beware of false prophets, who come to you in sheep's clothing, but underneath are ravenous wolves. By their fruits you will know them. Do people pick grapes from thornbushes, or figs from thistles?” // Matthew 7:15-16 Phew, it’s a good thing I never fall for false prophets! If you had a reaction similar to mine when reading today’s Gospel (see Matthew 7:15-20), then you, like me, might struggle with pride! Pride itself is a familiar false prophet. I know we like to think of false prophets as only those blatantly ridiculous or bombastic personalities touting the newest thing on YouTube, but in reality we listen to not just other voices but to our own sinful inclinations more than we think.  Pride likes to sneak into our habits of thinking: how we think about ourselves, how we think about others, and how we think about the world around us. It happens little by little, and all of sudden it is a giant wall that has blocked off our heart from God’s love, relationships with others, and a proper understanding of ourselves. The fruits are obviously bad!  It is so difficult to recognize when we start to follow the false prophet of pride in our own lives. It is much easier to recognize the voices that are outside us, the misguided messages bombarding us at every turn, but not so much our own bad habits or the way we begin to think that our way is best, even when held up beside God’s way.  Pride, with its insistence that our way is best, is always tempting to follow. It is a siren call that pulls us towards individualization and selfishness. To be connected to Christ, and to not only enjoy the fruits of His teaching, but to be a channel for the fruits of His love to flow to others, means following His Word in humility and submitting our way to His.  Is there an area of your life today that is being led by pride instead of God’s Word? Ask the Holy Spirit to shine a light on your intentions and motivations today.

Do not work for food that perishes but for the food that endures for eternal life, which the Son of Man will give you. For on him the Father, God, has set his seal. // John 6:27 The frequency with which I find myself grasping and clinging to “the food that perishes” rather than “the food that endures” still shocks me.  I have been Catholic all my life and have lived my faith fairly seriously most of my adult life. I take going to Mass every Sunday seriously. I try my best to make daily prayer a priority. I value praying with and thinking about Scripture.  And yet, despite these things, it is all too easy to want and desire the food that perishes.  I want my prayers to be answered, and not merely answered, but quickly and in just the way I desire. Accompanying my prayers is my attitude that my will must be completely correct—God cannot possibly disagree with me or have plans that do not coincide with my own! When my prayers are not answered in the way and timing I want them to be, I am thrown. There cannot be better reasons as to why the answers are not forthcoming. Why can’t I receive what I want when I want it?  I want the easy, fast, vending machine of God answering my prayers. I want the quick fix of food that perishes, that satisfies my wants of today. In my pride I choose the food that perishes immediately. I refuse to humbly trust in God the Father to answer my prayers in His perfect timing and ways—I refuse the food that endures forever.  It is so easy to go about our lives thinking that our faith and trust in God is deep and profound. But truly pursuing that which endures requires giving up our own desires in many ways which we do not expect. Our pride can be hidden in so many places within our hearts, urging us to forsake that which endures for the all-too-familiar temporary food that lasts just a moment. Where in your life are you holding on to your own desires so strongly that you are willing to give up the food that endures for the quick fix of being satisfied today?

[Jesus] woke up, rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, "Quiet! Be still!" The wind ceased and there was great calm. // Mark 4:39  There are many evenings when I can’t wait to sit down, sink into a comfy chair, cover myself with a soft, cozy blanket, and drink a glass of wine in relative peace and quiet. I have spent the entirety of the day running from one place to another, my mind in a million places thinking of everything I need to get done. But finally, after everything is accomplished, the relief of reaching evening and a time of rest feels wonderful. But we all know the evenings where we do not reach a restful conclusion. There are sleepless nights with sick children, short nights when we have to wake up for the early shift at work, late nights filled with worry over family members . . . the list goes on. I can’t help thinking that the Apostles may have already been exhausted when Jesus asked them to sail to the other side of the sea on an evening when they needed rest. Think of how much worse the fear of an incoming storm would have been to them. It becomes so much easier for us to imagine why the disciples threw words at Jesus and doubted the power of God in their midst.   When we face storms in our lives it can be easy to doubt that God will calm the wind and the sea. But how much more difficult is prayer, surrender, and faith when our human bodies are exhausted? When we’re exhausted and depleted it becomes much easier to allow fear to determine our actions instead of trust.  When we want to cry out to the Lord, asking if He cares that we are perishing (see Mark 4:38), we need to remind ourselves that He does. Maybe we need to pay attention to what our bodies need, to give ourselves rest, nutrition, and time outside in nature in order to make a heartfelt prayer for faith in times of difficulty, and in turn, entrust our problems to the loving power of the Lord. Think of the problems you are currently facing today. What healthy choices do you need to make for your body in order to better serve your soul?

But he knew their thoughts and said to them, “Every kingdom divided against itself will be laid waste and house will fall against house.” // Luke 11:17 There are a lot of types of deception, but I think one of the most painful is when we deceive ourselves.  I know when I have sinned—but not yet reached the point where I acknowledge the need to repent and seek forgiveness—that I experience an almost physical discomfort. Part of me wants to continue acting as if nothing has happened. I would like to deceive myself into thinking the sin can just be forgotten without consequence. The sins that have made me feel the worst are often not seen by others.  I mistakenly keep pretending that my conscience can be ignored. If I keep acting like nothing happened, surely my conscience will just forget the whole thing!  But that internal struggle feels like a physical grip on my insides in times of silence, when I’m trying to fall asleep at night, popping up when I take a shower. My soul is in effect divided. My soul cannot continue in such a state. The struggle will either pull me into more numbing sin, or be cleansed and healed if I seek out the Sacrament of Reconciliation.  Sister, when we are attached to sin our souls are like a house divided, but we cannot remain that way. We will either ultimately serve God or choose to not serve. Jesus calls us today to live a life of interior integrity in Him—to let Him make us whole. This integrity is only possible through His grace: both the grace He gives us when we seek restoration and forgiveness in Confession, and the grace He gives us through the wisdom of His Church, in giving us the teaching and understanding to form our consciences to know and love Him. It is not enough to merely reject sin; we must also fill our minds and hearts with what is good and true. His forgiveness cleans out the sin and His truth fills us up again. Just as we can always grow nearer to the Lord in prayer, we can also continue to draw closer to Christ through learning more about the Faith through the teachings of the Church.*  *Check out our Blessed Conversations Study on the Catechism.

Lay hold of eternal life. // 1 Timothy 6:12 If I had a dollar for each time I read a piece of Catholic commentary, offhand words from a member of the hierarchy, or a badly written church bulletin that raised my instant ire and frustration, I would wear much nicer clothes. My frustration boils when I see so much of what Saint Paul is talking about with Saint Timothy in today’s First Reading happening around me. It feels like there are simply so many people claiming to speak with or for the Church who do “not agree with the sound words of our Lord Jesus Christ” (1 Timothy 6:3). And unfortunately the arrogance, envy, rivalry, insults, and mutual friction are more than apparent in almost every sphere of Church life today.  But as a woman who is a member of the Church I know that my actions and choices with how I deal with my own frustration can either contribute to the arrogance and friction so rife in the Church or they can provide and inspire righteousness, devotion, faith, love, patience, and gentleness. Maybe that just means not getting into the mire of a comment section, or maybe it means persevering with love and clarity within my own parish in times of confusion and misunderstanding.  I want to bring to the Church my own resources and gift of faith just like Mary Magdalene, Joanna, and Susanna (see Luke 8:1-3). I want to actively contribute to the Church fulfilling her role as beacon of truth in a dark world. And most of all I want to lay hold of eternal life, and not fall into the temptation of argument, rivalry, and arrogance. It’s a constant temptation to us all living in the Church today, but as Saint Paul shows us, a temptation that has been with the Church from the beginning. Have you noticed situations where the temptation to give into arrogance, arguments, envy, or rivalry within the Church is especially acute for you? What virtue could you choose to practice in that situation instead?

Amen, I say to you, whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven. // Matthew 18:18 I wish I could recount to you a lovely, touching story of one of the many instances where there had been a rupture in friendship and relationship between me and another person that ended up in my freely giving forgiveness which was received with love and gratitude.  But I’m coming up short on these stories, and that is why today’s Gospel is a difficult and challenging read for me. I hold grudges. I intellectually know that I can and should forgive, but it really proves to be a difficult, uphill climb for me. I will spend years having to consciously choose to forgive someone instead of replaying their faults again and again in my mind on some tragic loop. Even after I have genuinely forgiven someone, I still need to continue to choose forgiveness instead of holding onto my arrogance of being right or my need for them to experience “justice.” My good opinion once lost is indeed lost forever.  Over the years I do feel as if I have made progress in forgiveness, especially when it comes to those closest to me. The bonds of family require and demand that any discord and bitterness be addressed, even if it is addressed only within myself. It is difficult to forgive someone, to speak the words “I forgive you,” but in many ways it is even more painful to forgive when it is only your choice and internal movement. You know that you will not receive closure or healing in a relationship, so you have to make your own choice to forgive, to receive Christ’s healing, and for the bonds of pain, betrayal, and hurt to be loosed from your life.  While Christ’s words are definite and direct about the ramifications of holding onto ill will and refusing forgiveness to people in our lives, He doesn’t put a timeline on forgiveness. Jesus gives us the steps of dealing directly with others in our lives, but He doesn’t say that it will instantly or magically become fixed. It is the internal choice that matters, not a happy ending.  Forgiveness begins with small choices. Ask Jesus in prayer today for the grace to choose forgiveness for the injury you’ve received. We cannot forgive with only our own willpower; it requires the grace of our Savior.

But some seed fell on rich soil, and produced fruit, a hundred or sixty or thirtyfold. // Matthew 13:9. When I look around our world right now, the world in which I’m raising five kids, I do not see a lot of rich soil. It would be a generous description of our culture to describe it as “rocky” when it comes to how hospitable it is to faith at all, and the Catholic faith in particular. Yet I see my main job as a mom trying to raise Catholic kids into Catholic adults as providing them with rich soil in which their own faith can take root.  I need to remind myself often that rich soil can look like a lot of different things, especially to different people. Most importantly however, rich soil can be enriched through simplicity. The good, true, and the beautiful are so powerful in the minds and hearts of our children that even when they are presented in what seem to be basic and simple ways, the impact is felt upon their souls.  The beauty of our parish church, the red light glowing beside the tabernacle, or the small statue of Mary are little signs of the power of beauty. Providing my children with the truth that God loves them and made them for a purpose over and over again throughout their lives imprints truth onto their hearts. When my children see the goodness that is shown when I serve my husband in small ways, making him lunch, getting up in the middle of the night with another sick child, or running a dreaded errand, they see what goodness looks like in the everyday.  I know this may sound overly simplistic, especially when we look at the world full of ugliness that surrounds us. But preparing rich soil for the souls of children, whether our own or those dear to us, is done every day and in simple ways. Rich soil is cultivated over time and can’t be artificially replicated, or else it will only be a sandy path: easy to walk upon, but impossible in which to grow deep roots.   How can we perform a small act of service today to help rich soil develop in the lives of our children, our community, and our society at large?

Fear no one. Nothing is concealed that will not be revealed,  nor secret that will not be known. // Matthew 10:26 We’ve all experienced fear in the last three years. Fear was an appropriate initial emotion to experience when the world seemed to be completely collapsing in on itself. But the sustained climate of fear that took over our society was one which told of most people putting their faith and peace in happiness and health in this life instead of in our Heavenly Father.  Now more than ever I have come to know that Jesus’ words to us today in the Gospel (see Matthew 10:26-33) are critical to whether I can say I am a believing Christian or not. Through the ups and downs of prayer, I see Christ’s words today as the endpoint to all the worries and fears I’ve confronted over the past few years. For He tells us, “Even all the hairs of your head are counted. So do not be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows” (Matthew 10:30-31).  One of the most defining and glorious aspects of Christianity is Christ’s call to not live in fear. Christians have the wonderful reality of living not for this world of suffering and pain, but for eternal life with our Creator, Who loves us and cares for us. We are right to be prudent about caring for our bodily health and needs, but we also live in the freedom and knowledge that our heavenly life is more important than this earthly life we want to cling to so tightly. I don’t want to live a life afraid of the brokenness of the world. These days I understand the power faith can have when encountering the trials of the world. We can trust in the words of Jesus that we don’t need to fear the death of our bodies, that Heaven awaits those of us who have faith in Him and that this is all a reflection of the deep love and care God has for each one of us.  What fear do you have in your life today? Pray to Jesus, asking him to relieve you of the emotion of fear, and choose to live in the light and trust in God’s love and tender care for you.

My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord; my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he has looked with favor on his lowly servant. // Luke 1:47-48 When I ponder the Visitation from today’s Gospel, I usually think about how beautiful it is that Mary sought out her older, wiser female relative. How joyous was their meeting as Saint John the Baptist leapt within Elizabeth’s womb! These two women could share with each other the experience of God directly touching their lives and the lives of their unborn children in a special way. But the other side of the story I don’t think about often is the fact that Mary probably was trying to get away for a while. And not to simply chill out and relax, or help Elizabeth with her nesting. Mary might have felt in danger from her community and culture. What could happen to her as a betrothed woman made pregnant by someone beside her betrothed would be a frightening thought as they would have seen her as having committed adultery. Since we do not know from the Gospels in which month Saint Joseph was made aware of her pregnancy, she may have felt the need for the safety and refuge of her relative’s home. The fear though would not have been eliminated. Mary’s fiat at the Annunciation is a model for the spiritual life. It is a perfect response of God’s love to us: a free and wholehearted cooperation with His will. So, too, does Mary’s magnificat: her practice of joy and praise of God in the midst of fear and uncertainty give us practical spiritual advice. There are always areas in our lives that are uncertain, where we may even fear particular outcomes. It feels contrary to our instincts to respond to fear and uncertainty with rejoicing and praise to God. But Mary’s example shows us that faith grows not by letting fear overtake our prayer; through praising God, our faith will be increased. Mary let joy grow amidst fear, and not a joy that comes from shallow comfort, but a joy that comes from knowing that the love of God will change your life. Pray with the Magnificat today for your own life and any particular struggles.

Let marriage be honored among all and the marriage bed be kept undefiled. // Hebrews 13:4 What does letting marriage be honored mean to you? Does it mean images of sentimental, puffy-sleeved wedding dresses? Does it mean legalistic realities where a woman could only purchase land or vote if she had a legal husband? Does it mean holding marriage as the ultimate happiness? Does it mean a loveless relationship held together by expectations and determination? We all have deeply personal experiences of marriage, whether that of the marriage of our parents, marriages of those around us, or marriages of our own. That is part of what makes marriage so important: that it deeply impresses so much upon children and in turn, the community at large. But the negative aspect of this is that we all have our individual issues when it comes to marriage as a concept and as a lived experience. It is a necessary and important reminder to us then that marriage is holy to God. We need to reorient our ideas about marriage in God’s light, not let the burdens, damage, and wounds from marriage that we carry extinguish it. Honoring marriage may begin in our own marriage, right now. Or it may come in how we speak of marriage, how we approach dating, how we empathize with children of divorce. In today’s Gospel (Mark 6:14-29), Saint John the Baptist was killed for speaking the truth about marriage; that is how important it was then, and still, is to God. Lord, we pray today for marriage: our marriages, the marriages within our family, the marriages of those around us, and for a strengthening of married love.

Immediately things like scales fell from his eyes and he regained his sight. // Acts 9:18 I know I need Jesus to illuminate so many areas of my life. There are glaring areas of my thinking that have not yet conformed to Christ’s thinking. I struggle to let go of holding my own opinion higher than that of the Church. But the grace of conversion and the personal encounter with Jesus is not a one-time experience. Even though Saint Paul dramatically experienced Christ knocking him to the ground and blinding him with the Truth, he also continued to grow in his experience with following Jesus for the rest of his life. Saint Paul had to be corrected in his error, his persecution of followers of Christ. Saint Paul walked in his journey towards holiness everyday after that historic journey to Damascus. I am sure that the process of learning the ways of Christ did not come in a painless way for Saint Paul. Just like Saint Paul, we live in a world that constantly tells us messages contrary to the truth. It takes intention, perseverance, and daily conversion to conform ourselves to the truth the Church teaches. But I want the scales taken from my eyes, even if it means a sometimes painful process. If I follow in Saint Paul’s footsteps of a determined and strong faith and love of Christ, then I know I too will encounter suffering, but also will live in the light. Jesus, show me where in my life You want to remove the scales from my eyes and see the truth. Lead me in Your ways, O Lord. Listen to today's audio devotion.

But he, filled with the Holy Spirit, looked up intently to heaven and saw the glory of God and Jesus standing at the right hand of God. // Acts 7:55 Lest you think Christianity is simply the once a year adoration of a Baby born in a manger surrounded by cuddly farm animals, the Church gives us the strong reminder of the demand of Christianity by making the feast of the martyrdom of Saint Stephen the day after the celebration of Christ’s birth. Saint Stephen is the first martyr of the Church. He was stoned shortly after the death of Jesus for his bold proclamation of the Gospel. Those who did not like his words did not simply walk away, ignore, or socially castigate Stephen. Instead they picked up large rocks and formed a mob in order to kill him, all for speaking the words with which the Holy Spirit filled his soul and mind. Saint Stephen knew and believed that Jesus Christ, that Baby born in a manger, was indeed the Savior of the World. A Savior Who came to bring freedom from sin, eternal life, and intimacy with God to each and every person on earth. Saint Stephen could not just live his life basking in knowing Christ while He walked on earth, he had to share the love and power of Christ even if it meant death. That is the power faith in Christ can have on the human heart. The celebration of Christmas does not end in Bethlehem, but in sharing the transforming message of the Gospel to everyone in our lives, no matter the cost. As we celebrate the Twelve Days of Christmas, in what small way can you share the Gospel with those in your life? [bctt tweet="Share the Gospel. // Christy Isinger " username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

“Beware that your hearts do not become drowsy from carousing and drunkenness and the anxieties of daily life, and that day catch you by surprise like a trap.” // Luke 21:34 Wake up, make breakfast. Get kids ready for school. Someone’s crying. Make sure to remember the three extra things a kid needs today. Someone can’t find their shoes. Did I pay that electric bill? What’s for dinner? An unexpected call from a friend. Is it already time for bed? How many days do I find flying by because of the unending list of things that need to get done in a day without being able to even pause for a moment of prayer? It feels like too many, especially upon hearing the words of Jesus today. The anxieties of daily life do feel like too much. Too much for my heart. Too much for what I have to give. The anxieties themselves may be small in the grand scheme of the world and in comparison to much else, but the sheer quantity of them builds upon my heart. These anxieties have the same effect on the spiritual life as the numbing of drunkenness: they take away the ability to be receptive to the daily grace that Jesus wants to give us. Too often I can assume faith is another box to check on the list of all the things to do in life. But Jesus is calling us to reverse this way of thinking, not to live our faith by fitting it into our busy lives. He invites us to orient our lives so closely to Him that we live prepared for Him to come again, be it when we die our earthly death or when He returns. Lord, Jesus, help me today to release my anxiety over my daily tasks and to be attentive to the grace You offer me in the present moment. * professional help for anxiety is a blessing if you feel you need it! [bctt tweet="Live prepared for Him to come again // Christy Isinger " username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion