Today’s Gospel is one I often dismiss in familiarity. Love your enemies, pray for those who persecute you. Beyond having heard it hundreds of times, I frequently convince myself it could never apply to me. Enemies? I don’t have enemies, right? There is just that one girl in class whom I avoid walking home with, that one person on Instagram I always roll my eyes at, or that one guy in airport security who can never seem to remember to take his shoes off. Does that count? Sisters, I think I always miss the point of today’s Gospel. Jesus did not gather His disciples close to rattle off some cheesy paradigm about love, but to revolutionize human history. While I subconsciously tell myself that I have heard this Gospel before and I am bored with its message, that is entirely contradictory to Who our God is, a creative Father Who makes all things new. In fact, this paradigm is not actually the story that has been told hundreds of times, for He tells His disciples that they have heard that one before. We have heard that one before. In reality, the story that has become boring is that hating our enemies will liberate us from resentment. The story that has grown old is that the Father only makes His sun rise on the good, and not the bad. The story that has to be rewritten is that some people are just too far gone. Because we worship a Father Who creates, Who revolutionizes, Who loves beyond understanding, it only makes sense that He has to write us a new story, one that will never lose its gravity and adventure. He calls us to something unusual. Our mission is to love our enemies, to pray for those who persecute us, and He does not ask it of us without living it first. The King of Heaven comes into the mess with us so that we can adopt His heart towards that girl from class or the guy at the airport, and to be loved so radically it never grows old. Jesus, give us Your heart towards our enemies. May we always be aware that You, our living God, are moving us out of stagnancy and into revolutionary love. [bctt tweet="Jesus, give us Your heart towards our enemies. May we always be aware that You, our living God, are moving us out of stagnancy and into revolutionary love." username="blessedisshe__"] Let's pray this prayer together to remember that to love more deeply, we want to be rid of our supreme enemy, the devil. Sarah Elizabeth is a politics pre-law major at the Catholic University of America in Washington, DC. Born and raised in Arizona, she finds great joy in mountains, lattes, American history, and the piano. She is constantly discovering Christ's wild love in the little things.

I often think about moments of radical healing, like the one from today’s Gospel, as rare and unseen in our ordinary everyday stories. Truthfully, I have read this Gospel countless times and my tendency is to write it off as unrealistic or inaccessible. Somewhere in my walk with the Lord, I internalized this notion that miracles are exclusively a thing of the early Church, or that putting my hope in healing is not practical. I am challenged in confronting these tensions and questions. I am called to acknowledge my own Samaritan moments. I am reminded to reflect on the seasons where I struggled to accept healing. I think the ten healed lepers probably understood that better than I ever will. "Ten were cleansed, were they not? Where are the other nine? Has none but this foreigner returned to give thanks to God?" (Luke 17:17-18). I wish I knew the thought processes of the nine who did not return to thank Him. Completely cleansed of the disease that held them in captivity, I imagine they chose to be swallowed by fear and doubt. Fear of a Messiah who could be Who He says He is, or doubts of full restorative healing, could have led the nine wondering what life outside captivity demanded of them. Healing can be messy. Yet, the Samaritan chooses boldness, in the midst of everything that has changed. He leaves the other nine, embracing his status as “foreigner,” to fall at the feet of Jesus in loud praises. I imagine he knelt at the feet of his Messiah and experienced the floor of Heaven, in that instant. Consumed in awe of his Savior, the Samaritan encounters healing in a way I often forget to; He returns in unspeakable gratitude. Maybe the Gospel writers shared this story with the Church, not only to show us the incredible saving power of Christ, but to allow us to encounter healing as a simple returning to the Source of all life. The complexities of fear and doubt have no power over the One who brings us back to total restoration. There is no striving, earning, or posturing. At the feet of the Messiah, there is healing and returning. [bctt tweet="There is no striving, earning, or posturing. At the feet of the Messiah, there is healing and returning." username="blessedisshe__"] Jesus, kindest Healer, I pray that we would step out of doubt and into the light of radical restoration. Sarah Elizabeth is a politics pre-law major at the Catholic University of America in Washington, DC. Born and raised in Arizona, she finds great joy in mountains, lattes, American history, and the piano. She is constantly discovering Christ's wild love in the little things. 

Throughout my walk with the Lord, women have shared with me that the perfect man will come along right when I am not looking for him, or that Mr. Right will come into my life once I attain the necessary maturity and holiness. It is “all in His timing,” they have assured me, yet I still feel like I am somehow supposed to earn my way to this checkpoint of a holy romantic relationship. These words, while spoken with good intentions, continue to lead me into seasons of believing that the “Lord’s timing” is realistically just the Lord holding out on me in my singledom, because I am still inadequate or unprepared. My life as a single woman seems to be interpreted as a waiting game, a season which looks to the future for consolation. “He has made everything appropriate to its time, and has put the timeless into their hearts, without man's ever discovering, from beginning to end, the work which God has done.” (Ecclesiastes 3:11) Today’s First Reading tells us that the Lord has made everything appropriate to its time, including the unnoticed moments, when each breath enters our lungs. I seem to forget that Heaven’s timing sees me through always, with an eternal vision beyond some day or time when a man may or may not pursue me. The Lord is unravelling graces in my current season that may take a lifetime to discover, yet I allow my present moments to be shaped by a relationship not promised to me. This reading leaves me awestruck as I come to realize that He has put the timeless into my heart, from the beginning of time. There is no stagnancy as His will marks every day of my life; I am not limited to a season of waiting as He has appointed this time for me to dance and sing in confidence of who He is. His timing is unending and beyond my understanding, but I can rest in knowing that He has not forgotten about me. There is a time for everything under the heavens. Sisters, His timing is not just for yesterday, or for tomorrow, but today. Your present season is worthy of living in its fullness. He has not left us in a waiting game. Let Heaven’s timing interrupt your own, today, as His plans seek out the infinite in every finite moment. [bctt tweet="Sisters, His timing is not just for yesterday, or for tomorrow, but today. " username="blessedisshe__"] Are you trusting that His timing isn't just a waiting game, but a special time in and of itself? Trust in that today, Sisters. Sarah Elizabeth is a politics pre-law major at the Catholic University of America in Washington, DC. Born and raised in Arizona, she finds great joy in mountains, lattes, American history, and the piano. She is constantly discovering Christ's wild love in the little things. 

I am obsessed with personality tests. You name the test and I have taken it, tormenting myself over the meticulous details of each prescribed strength and weakness. On this endeavor of self-discovery, I have learned that I am inherently motivated to love and serve others because of subconscious desires to be praised and feel needed. I am constantly working at becoming aware of how this impacts my witness to the goodness of the Father, because I know I have deep-rooted, broken desires to be called “rabbi” or “master,” as Jesus puts it in today’s Gospel. “All their works are performed to be seen.” (Matthew 23:5). I experience it in ministry, on Instagram, and even in the pews—how willing we are to live out the Christian faith insofar as it glorifies us? We trade the praises of Heaven for the affirming words of others, particularly our faith community. Our false humility and curated witness forces authenticity out of our lives, in exchange for the hopes that we may appear holy. The reward of being the “ideal” Christian comes before the reality of living in the reality of the Cross, that we are called to die to ourselves for the sake of the Kingdom. How would the posture of our hearts shift if we internalized that all the glory belonged to the Father? What would change in our communities if we radically humbled ourselves and tuned our ears to the praises of Heaven? What if our hearts were set in motion by servanthood, giving each breath gifted to us back to the Kingdom? Sisters, I am in the lifelong process of confronting the ways pride interrupts my capacity to wholeheartedly give all glory to the Father. I have to press on in prayer, that my every word and action would never point back to me, but to the Gospel. I carry on in the confidence that what each personality test has declared about my human tendencies (to love out of ulterior motives) is not beyond the love of the King of Kings. In the First Reading, the Lord declares where His throne will remain and we are so gracefully invited to participate in lifting it high. (Ezekiel 43:7) [bctt tweet="I have to press on in prayer, that my every word and action would never point back to me, but to the Gospel." username="blessedisshe__"] Father, I pray that we would come to know that it is in complete humility that we will be exalted in Heaven, and that this is only possible through the mercy You extend to us, each morning. Glorious is Your name. Sarah Elizabeth is a politics pre-law major at the Catholic University of America in Washington, DC. Born and raised in Arizona, she finds great joy in mountains, lattes, American history, and the piano. She is constantly discovering Christ's wild love in the little things. 

Two years ago, I made the decision to attend college in Washington D.C., across the country from everyone I knew and loved. After much crying in my car, He spoke gently to me in a moment of clarity, where I became aware that He was calling me into unknown depth. Overwhelmed with fears and doubts, I pressed on in transparent prayer and the Father simply asked for my time. For me, this time marked a season of creative remembrance, where in the waiting for His plans to unfold, I was awakened by the memory of His faithfulness. I began to understand that the same Light that prophesied over Israel and fulfilled promises in the Gospel would see me through. This tension between remembrance and waiting instilled in me a firm understanding that God has never stopped creating. Today’s readings revolve around the process of God fulfilling prophecy through the nativity of Saint John the Baptist. They show that God has always asked His chosen ones to consent to His will, and uses them to keep His promises. In this we are called to receive the tension of the past alongside the future to live in the present. The Father constructs the rich history of our lives upon the past in our lifetimes, which affects lives after ours, further serving the Kingdom. Sisters, what would change about our day-to-day lives if we became aware that we are instrumental in fulfilling the Divine promises of the Father? Placing ourselves under His authority, we learn how to sing the song that God has been singing over us for generations, through all of time. Then we see the precious gravity of individual moments, even when we are in the midst of the unraveling. [bctt tweet="Sing the song that God has been singing over us for generations."] Father, may we walk in both remembrance and anticipation of Your perfect will, and know that we are invited into Your Heavenly promises. Sarah Elizabeth is a politics pre-law major at the Catholic University of America in Washington, DC. Born and raised in Arizona, she finds great joy in mountains, lattes, American history, and the piano. She is constantly discovering Christ's wild love in the little things.

My stubborn heart often has a hard time accepting the reality of things. For example, if someone hurts me, I will hold on to the fabricated, idealistic version of that person in my head in order to reject that the circumstances of the relationship may have changed. If I am doing poorly in a class, my mind will quickly shut out the failure and focus on the other classes in which I am doing well, until I forget about the situation altogether. I catch myself doing it daily to cope with each small disruption of my peace and comfort—why? Because if I accept the truth and confront reality, I am subsequently called to change. Today’s Gospel revolves around one central question: "Do you believe in the Son of Man?” (John 9:35) The Pharisees ask a series of doubtful questions after the blind man’s sight is restored, a miracle he immediately accredits to Jesus. Yet, none of the Pharisees’ questions seek out the truth, as the Pharisees had already decided that “this man is not from God.”(John 9:16) Instead, their comments condemn and threaten the resounding faith of a man who knows his life can never be the same, because once he was blind but now can see. He is altered by an encounter with Truth, Himself, confronted by the reality that the Messiah has come and that His coming changes the human story, forever. However, sometimes, I fall into the role of the Pharisees. I am not always sure that I want to see and know the truth, because if I do, my world is often turned upside down. If I choose to follow the God who gives sight to the blind, I have to be willing to let go of my blindness. I need the dependency on the Holy Spirit to leave the grave behind and the courage to not live in the shadow. I have to renounce mediocrity and the lie that the Father is not who He says He is, but instead believe that He is a God who desires our complete healing and restoration. I need the humility to proclaim that it is not and never will be of my own doing, but instead, give total praise to Jesus as the man in the Gospel does. [bctt tweet="If I choose to follow the God who gives sight to the blind, I have to let go of my blindness."] What would your day look like if you believed that He is a miracle-working God? Sarah Elizabeth is a politics pre-law major at the Catholic University of America in Washington, DC. Born and raised in Arizona, she finds great joy in mountains, lattes, American history, and the piano. She is constantly discovering Christ's wild love in the little things. 

Today's Gospel testifies to the reckless, unending mercy of the ever-so-generous Father and offers a profound declaration of who Jesus is. It is a call for repentance, new beginnings, and intimacy. The King of Kings feasts with the tax collectors who leave everything behind to be at the table with Him. It is the ultimate invitation to the broken. Yet, for weeks, this Gospel has created an undeniable knot in my stomach as I read the response of the Pharisee. "Why do you eat and drink with tax collectors and sinners?” (Luke 5:30) With all honesty, I am always the first to write off the Pharisees in frustration of their constant misunderstanding and questioning of the Kingdom that Jesus was building in His ministry. But this time reading it, I cannot help but feel a stirring of empathy and compassion towards the guy who tried to spend his life doing what was right and true. In my own life, I have long walked in the path of the Pharisee, obsessed with striving and posturing. My mindset has remained that if I could just devote my life to upholding a squeaky clean reputation and moral compass, I could rightly earn a seat at the table. I have cultivated an identity of the entitled daughter where I subconsciously love Him with the expectation of being rewarded. However, Jesus shows favor towards the tax collectors, and I cannot help but feel the stinging of resentment and bitterness. The tax collectors spend their lives unconcerned with the law, yet in the instant they choose to leave everything behind and follow Him, all is forgiven. They celebrate by throwing a large banquet where the Pharisees cannot even partake as they complain to Jesus. In this, I come to know it is in my own righteousness that I am blinded from the realization that the love of Jesus is radical and transformative. It is my own entitlement that hinders me from knowing that Jesus calls us to encounter grace, not to make sense of it. My journey is not compared to that of my sister. His love stretches for us both. [bctt tweet="Jesus calls us to encounter grace, not to make sense of it."] Father, may my own bitterness never block my capacity to be merciful and lighthearted towards those who were divinely created to sit in Heavenly places with You, in the same way that I was. Sarah Elizabeth is a politics pre-law major at the Catholic University of America in Washington, DC. Born and raised in Arizona, she finds great joy in mountains, lattes, American history, and the piano. She is constantly discovering Christ's wild love in the little things. 

The Church sets aside today as a day of prayer for the legal protection of unborn children, marking forty-five years since the Supreme Court decision of Roe versus Wade. Jesus, have mercy on us. I am a 19 year old sophomore in college, studying politics on a pre-law track, living in Washington D.C., and I encounter this issue repeatedly in my studies. It strikes me that choosing to live in a pro-life way is not a political issue, but a human issue. Within a conversation that has caused endless division and massive heartbreak among women everywhere, we have to continue asking the Father what He thinks and place Him at the center of the narrative. “No one can enter a strong man's house to plunder his property unless he first ties up the strong man.” (Mark 3:27) The Enemy knows how inherently magnificent women are and will continue to use abortion as a means to try to plunder them, victimize them, and corner them into believing the lie that they are a burden for bringing life into the world. The Enemy will try to distort the reality that a woman’s fertility is natural, divinely complex, and life-giving. The Enemy will attempt to label the taking of innocent lives as a woman taking control of her sexuality or doing what is best for herself, allowing women to believe that they are not capable or supported in their pregnancy. He will try to plunder the goodness of life. However, the Gospel says that he will not be able to enter the house and plunder his property unless he first ties the strong man up. So we must take heart, Sisters, because this battle was already won at Calvary. The Father saw the battle this country would face today, forty-five years ago, and He sent His only Son to bring an unparalleled light to the darkness and destroy death for all ages. Jesus took His last breath for the love of humanity and overcame all of these lies, one by one, in hopes that we would walk in the freedom that He had the last word. Today, we grieve alongside and mourn for those who have not been awakened by this Truth and feel consumed by the fear of the life inside them. And we pray for the interior peace of every pregnant woman, that she would know the providence of Jesus. [bctt tweet="It strikes me that choosing to live in a pro-life way is not a political issue, but a human issue."] Whether you are post-abortive, struggling with a pregnancy, hoping for a baby, or somewhere in between, know our sisterhood is praying for you and here for you. Rachel's Vineyard offers retreats for abortion-related healing needs. You are so loved. Sarah Elizabeth is a politics pre-law major at the Catholic University of America in Washington, DC. Born and raised in Arizona, she finds great joy in mountains, lattes, American history, and the piano. She is constantly discovering Christ's wild love in the little things. 

This Gospel always makes my heart sing, as it is a glimpse of the Father’s intrinsic vision for women, who are invited to participate in the light of His promise. In her encounter with the Blessed Virgin Mary, Saint Elizabeth is filled with the Spirit and calls on this very reality. “Blessed are you who believed that what was spoken to you by the Lord would be fulfilled.” (Luke 1:45) So often, I find myself halfheartedly mumbling this one statement: God has a plan. It is my automatic response to misunderstanding and doubt, whether I truly believe its sentiments or it is simply a means to subdue the brokenness. I am quick to speak of His faithfulness, but my humanity has experienced cancelled plans and broken promises. Very rarely do I stop in wonder of what it would mean to be confident in His plan, and walk in all that He promises. Yet, Mary believed that what was spoken to her by the Lord would be fulfilled. She knew the heart of the Father so intimately that she took Him at His word. Mary lived each day with the confidence that He was not a Father who made empty promises, but that He was a Father who kept His word. Her life was rooted in the truth that He is who He says He is, an endlessly loyal God with Heaven’s timing. She walked in His promise, humbled that He wrote her into the plan of salvation history, all the days of her life. Blessed is she who carried His promise in her womb, trusting His word was higher than the societal norms that would have condemned her. Blessed is she who rested in His covenant to her, that she would know His presence and one day be seated with Him in Heaven for her “yes.” Blessed is she who chose to engage in the fulfillment of His word, even in seasons of longing and waiting. Blessed is she. On this day, may we rest in knowing that He is a God of His promise and a Father of infinite loyalty. May we follow the example of Our Lady, and trust He is fulfilling all things in the process. [bctt tweet="Mary walked in His promise, humbled that He wrote her into the plan of salvation history, all the days of her life."] Do you feel blessed? Is someone in life needing to hear that she is blessed, too? Give her a text or call today. Remind her of this beautiful verse in the Gospel. Sarah Elizabeth is a politics pre-law major at the Catholic University of America in Washington, DC. Born and raised in Arizona, she finds great joy in mountains, lattes, American history, and the piano. She is constantly discovering Christ's wild love in the little things. 

A few weeks ago, I was approached in a coffee shop by a woman who had noticed the Scripture verse on the front of my t-shirt and felt prompted to open up to me about her doubts and struggles within the Christian faith. I was overjoyed to answer her questions and share a bit of my own personal walk with the Lord. Well into our conversation, she looked at me intently and asked, “If you could ask God of only one thing, what would it be?" I took a long pause and shifted in my seat. What was the last thing I asked of Jesus? My enthusiasm and confidence faded as I realized I simply did not have an answer. I rambled about how the Lord knows what we need before we ask Him, but became increasingly aware that I was afraid to present Him with my desires. Yet, the blind man from today’s Gospel knows his petitions with such conviction and clarity, crying out the bold refrain of his human frailty and the need for a Savior. He strings together the seven words that would speak boundless freedom into his life. “Son of David, have pity on me.” (Luke 18:38) So often, I read this Gospel as another story of Christ’s healing, but forget the unspeakable boldness of the man who begs for the healing. I can hear the voices of the crowd, rebuking him and demanding his silence. Those voices are the doubts and fears that have defined my prayer for seasons now. When did I begin to call my desires too much for the Lord who planted them in my heart in the first place? When did I stop admitting my needs and confessing my human brokenness? When did I lose my childlike desire to depend entirely on an infinite Father? At the core of our human identity, we are all the beggar, the blinded, and the outcast. The blind man’s witness gives us full permission and freedom to bring our petitions to Him today, in light of all the things we are not. [bctt tweet="If you could ask God of only one thing, what would it be?"] If you could ask God of only one thing, what would it be? Sisters, let us ask the Lord today, for He offers sight in our blindness. Sarah Elizabeth is a politics pre-law major at the Catholic University of America in Washington, DC. Born and raised in Arizona, she finds great joy in mountains, lattes, American history, and the piano. She is constantly discovering Christ's wild love in the little things.

“To one he gave five talents; to another, two; to a third, one—to each according to his ability.” (Matthew 25:15) At a young age, I mastered the art of comparison. Growing up, it was my primary method of survival and the catalyst of life long self-doubt. Even though it was destructive to my self-image and relationships with other women, I was consumed by what other girls had and were, and the fact I never felt like my life was enough. Why can’t I just look like her? Why does she have all the things I want? Why does everyone want to be around her and not me? She has it all. I’m convinced that envy is the greatest enemy of the feminine genius. In the parable from today’s Gospel, we recognize that the master gives away these talents, but often miss that he does so according to their individual abilities. Goodness, it sounds so painfully familiar! I easily recognize the gifts of others, but often miss the reality that the Lord’s generosity is catered exactly to who I am and what I am called to in my life. This mentality then leads me to believe that the gifts, successes, or accomplishments of other women undermine my attempts to succeed, and subsequently erodes our sisterhood. I allow envy to convince me that the women I love should not be celebrated and that is a lie. The two servants who rejoiced in what was given to them are the ones who end up sharing the joy of their master. The other servant fails to develop and grow his gift, not recognizing it as an individual gift from his master. When we begin to feel envy stirring in our hearts, we have to combat it by a response of relentless gratitude. Like the two faithful servants did, we have to trust that the Lord has gifted us with everything we could possibly need and thank Him for a love that is so incredibly specific and personal. He created us so carefully and intricately, bestowing upon us the gifts that only we could carry out and trusting that we would do so for His Kingdom. We can never forget He desires such joy for us each, individually, in whatever season of life we find ourselves. He is all too beautifully unfair. Let us trust that He has provided for us, and respond to that call to uplift other women, celebrate their gifts, and thank Him for His generosity. [bctt tweet="We have to trust that the Lord has gifted us with everything we could possibly need."] Sarah Elizabeth is a politics pre-law major at the Catholic University of America in Washington, DC. Born and raised in Arizona, she finds great joy in mountains, lattes, American history, and the piano. She is constantly discovering Christ's wild love in the little things. 

I vividly remember being in holy hour after my first week as a summer missionary at Covecrest, a Life Teen camp, subconsciously letting my prayer flow from a place of complacency and contentment. I had done everything He asked of me, even when it meant being covered in mud and sharing a room with thirteen girls. I was out of my comfort zone in every way: what did I lack? I gazed at Him in the monstrance that morning, and He floored me with one simple question. What are you willing to give up for me? I spent my next six weeks at Covecrest beginning to answer that question, thinking a lot about what Jesus says to this man in the Gospel. Little context is offered about this man; we know nothing about the life he led or even what his name was. Yet, I feel like I know this man so personally. I have lived his encounter with Jesus a thousand times over. His doubts and pains are living characters in the narrative of the human experience today, two thousand years later. The young man is faced with the reality that Christ’s words call on two very polarized responses: to give it all or walk away. Jesus does not hesitate to ask the man to sell all his many possessions. He asks for the man to leave everything behind and follow Him, not follow His teachings from a comfortable distance. He offers treasure in Heaven to replace his worldly possessions. Even then, the young man walks away sad in the end, and I feel his heartbreak when I read it. I feel the tensions of my own divided heart that often aches for Him but only knows the comfort of captivity in my own sin. I think about that morning at Covecrest that He asked if I would give it all for Him, and I began the process of reckless surrender, praying He would give me a heart abandoned. This Gospel is a reminder that the Lord does not ask for our partial hearts, our lackluster Mass attendance, or our “maybe later” responses. His desire is for us to drop everything and follow Him wholeheartedly, leaving behind lesser goods for Goodness Himself. The good news, sisters, is that He sings a song of strength over us in the process of our own individual surrenders, where we can leave behind what holds us captive. “Come, follow me.” Let today be about those three words and the freedoms given by a God who desires the journey with us. [bctt tweet="He sings a song of strength over us in the process of our own individual surrenders."] Sarah Elizabeth is a politics pre-law major at the Catholic University of America in Washington, DC. Born and raised in Arizona, she finds great joy in mountains, lattes, American history, and the piano. She is constantly discovering Christ's wild love in the little things. 

Oh, John 3:16. I see it plastered on Forever 21 bags, In-N-Out cups, and Instagram bios everywhere. When I was just beginning to know the Lord, I proudly had everyone's favorite verse henna tattooed on me on spring break years ago. Now, I’m so quick to brush past it in familiarity. After all, I’ve heard it a million times. Yet, I still don’t really think I get it. “God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him might not perish but might have eternal life.” How do we possibly respond to that? A God who sacrifices His only son as a result of His undying, burning love for me is a God who makes me uncomfortable. My heart’s natural response is to scatter and seek out all the ways I can begin to earn a salvation as intimate as the one that the Gospel speaks of. I constantly find myself lost in the checklist of things I need to be before I encounter the Lord, consumed by the mindset that I need to perform for His love. My relationship with Him becomes a vicious cycle of me coming back to the question: how could I be worthy of a God who not only pursues my salvation, but does so because He desires eternity with me? The mystery of the Solemnity of the Most Holy Trinity captures the reality that we are wildly unworthy, yet received as we are. Christ saw our greatest messes, our unfinished checklists, and our doubts as He carried His cross to Calvary. Yet, He surrendered to the Father and chose redemption and mercy, in exchange for the option that we would choose Him. There are no amount of accomplishments or finished checkpoints that allow us these graces; there are no amount of shortcomings or failures that take them away. Your “yes” is enough. It is only through the third person of the Trinity, the Holy Spirit, that we can lean into this reality, just as Moses did on Mount Sinai. Let us be overwhelmed with praise for a three-person God who never asks us to perform for His love, but simply be. Say yes today. [bctt tweet="Let us be overwhelmed with praise for a three-person God who allows us to simply be."] Sarah Elizabeth is a politics pre-law major at the Catholic University of America in Washington, DC. Born and raised in Arizona, she finds great joy in mountains, lattes, American history, and the piano. She is constantly discovering Christ's wild love in the little things.