The disciples journey to Jerusalem with their Master one final time to celebrate the Passover. Not coincidentally, they will commemorate the miraculous deliverance of God’s people from slavery in Egypt. They do not understand that a new Passover is unfolding in which God will defeat the power of sin and ransom those enslaved to it. Jesus knows it is His last night on earth. What does He want to tell us? "[H]e loved them to the end" (John 13:1). Jesus wants us to see what infinite Love looks like. The full extent of His love is symbolically anticipated as He takes the position of a slave and washes the disciples’ feet. Saint Cyril of Alexandria gives us this beautiful image of Divine Love: "What could be stranger than this? What more awesome? He Who is clothed with light as with a garment is girded with a towel. . . . He before Whom every knee must bow now kneels before His servants" (Cyril of Alexandria, Patrologia Graeca vol. 77, Homily 10). In a few short hours, the Eternal Life will become obedient to death, proclaim: "it is finished," and complete His Father’s work of salvation. Do we truly know how much He loves us? "Unless I wash you, you will have no inheritance with me" (John 13:8). This is an allusion to the need for Baptism and the sacramental cleansing that joins us to Christ and His Church. But Jesus is also revealing the disposition of our hearts. He wants us to humbly acknowledge that our feet are dirty, that we need the purifying gift of the Cross. Is pride or shame keeping us from fully yielding to Jesus’ transforming work in our lives? "You ought to wash one another’s feet" (John 13:14). The foot washing represents Jesus’ whole life as a humble servant, culminating with His self-gift on the Cross. It is not something we simply admire, but Jesus commands us to emulate the same humility and sacrificial love toward one another—to love one another as He has loved us (John 13:34). Today, whose feet is Jesus calling you to wash? [bctt tweet="Do we truly know how much He loves us? // @DebbieHerbeck" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion Maybe tonight, wash the feet of those you're sheltering-in-place with, or schedule a Zoom call or FaceTime with a friend to read the readings aloud with one another. Debra Herbeck, a Jewish convert to the Church, has worked extensively in youth and women’s ministry. She has directed Pine Hills Girls Camp for the past 33 years, is the founder and Director of the Be Love Revolution, and also helps lead a ministry called i.d.916. She has written a number of books that can be found here. Debra and her husband Peter live in Ann Arbor, Michigan and are the parents of four children and seven adorable grandchildren. She is a contributing author to our Works of Mercy Study: Misericordia.

“For these and all my sins, I am sorry,” I concluded with relief as I finished reciting my sins that Saturday morning. “How do you want your kids to remember their childhood?” the priest gently asked from the other side of the screen. “Do you want them to think of you as always picking up your phone, losing your patience with them, and living distractedly from moment to moment?” A chill crept over me as I considered this thought. It was one thing recalling and confessing my sins aloud to the priest. It was another thing as he repeated back to me my description of my negligence in my parenting and homeschooling of my children. A vision of myself filled my mind; the self that I was content most days to be. Today is Spy Wednesday; the day Judas betrayed his friend and Lord all for the sake of thirty silver pieces. Yet, what do I betray Him for? A few minutes peace on a weekday morning? Solitude as I put off teaching math? Self-indulgent scrolling which leaves me feeling empty? I imagine myself in Judas’ place. One of you will betray Me. Our hands touch as we dip our bread in the bowl together. Surely, it is I, Lord. I confess. I do betray You. He looks at me with compassion, mercy, and love. You have said it, and you are forgiven. He knew we would betray Him. He died because we betray Him. He died so that we can repent and have hope in His mercy. And always come back for forgiveness every time we betray Him. The priest gave me my penance and prayed the words of absolution over me. I was forgiven. I thanked him and hurried to the adoration chapel to pray. [bctt tweet="I imagine myself in Judas’ place. // Susanna Spencer" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today's devotion Dear Lord, help me during these uncertain times. I need your graces even if I cannot go to Confession right now. Bless me and hold me close. Susanna Spencer is the Theological Editor for Blessed is She who studied theology and philosophy in her earlier life. She happily cares for her three adorable little girls, toddler boy, and her dear husband in Saint Paul when not writing and editing. She loves beautiful liturgies, cooking delicious meals, baking amazing sweets, reading good books, raising her children, casually following baseball, and talking to her philosopher husband. She is a contributing author to our children's devotional prayer book called Rise Up and Theological Editor of the Catechism Studies, the Mystery Studies, and the Works of Mercy study. You can find out more about her here.

These past weeks of Lent we've been coping with the unexpected turn of events with Covid-19. And yet as we've grappled with all the changes and unknowns, and prepared for these last days of Holy Week, hopefully it feels like we're a bit more in touch with our own hearts. Lent is such a grace in this way. But it's also hard, isn't it? As the old is stripped away, my perfectionist heart squirms with the deeper realization that I don't always live up to the life that God hopes for me. Like the fact that I lose my patience with my co-workers. I fail to practice charity in my family. I gossip under the guise of compassion. I don't truly listen. I'm quick to criticize others for their faults, full of indignation that I'd never do the horrible-terrible-ugly thing that they just did. When I read about Saint Peter and about Judas (see John 13:21-28), I think that I'd never fall in the ways that they did. I imagine that if I was in their shoes I would be brave, steadfast, clear-headed, and faithful. I would be a perfect apostle, through and through. Thanks be to God for my conscience, which pricks at my heart and reminds me of that time five minutes ago that I failed to live according to His call on my life. Blushed and shame-faced I discover (again) that I am just like them. And yet He sees the greatness in me, taking me into the safety of His shadow, upholding me, always having my back. Even when I spin my wheels in the mud of life, He sees me not only as His servant, but as a "true light to the nations" (see Isaiah 49:1-6). Little, imperfect me. Called to greatness. This week, Sisters, we're walking toward Calvary. It can be easy to feel swallowed up in our sins because without Him we would be. But He doesn't wish this for you or for me. Keep your eyes on Him, and sing of His salvation. [bctt tweet="Little, imperfect me. Called to greatness. // Karen Schultz" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion Have you seen our "free resources" on the site? We are walking this path together, sister. Karen Schultz hails from the Land of 10,000 lakes, where she is often found in or near one of them. As a doula, lactation educator, and FertilityCare Practitioner, she finds joy in helping women to embrace the gift of their bodies. Downtime is found in quiet adoration chapels, farmers markets and gardens, listening to bluegrass music, and embracing the diversity of Minnesota’s seasons. She is a contributing author to our Works of Mercy Study: Misericordia. You can find out more about her here.

I regret when I have interrogated my loved ones, assuming the worst in their intentions. "How could you . . . ?" "Why did you do that?" "What made you say that?" Without taking a moment to consider their motive, I've let lose a string of accusing questions. When I consider the root of my questions, I find anger, annoyance, pride, selfishness—just like Judas. Had the Gospel writer not clarified that Judas asked his question from a place of greed and rather than concern for the poor (see John 12:6), I would have read his question and seconded it. Serving the poor is in fact a Corporal Work of Mercy, and Jesus encourages us to share with those in need (see Matthew 19:21). All through Lent, we practice giving alms. Now on this Monday of Holy Week, I feel like I often do: I haven't done enough, given enough, fasted enough. All my thoughts focus on myself. When I could seek the Lord more fervently and ask for His mercies, I focus on how my actions stack up against another’s (Mary’s, in this case). That is why I can imagine agreeing with Judas. Blinded by greed, he didn't care about the poor. He didn’t even see or love the Lord in his midst. And when I’m blinded by my failures, by my self-comparisons with other women, by my pride, then I don’t see Jesus in my life. Not seeing Jesus in my presence leads me down a path towards sin and destruction. Sisters, this is the week to seek Jesus and His mercy. I’m laying down my pride and judgements to see Jesus in front of me. I don’t have to imagine "what would I have done if I was at that dinner party," I need to remember Jesus is in my presence now. His words, "you do not always have Me," motivate me to seek Him and serve Him in those closest to me—my family, friends, neighbors. Before I let lose another string of awful questions, I aim to pray: Jesus, let me see You here now, so that I may love You and serve You as Mary and Martha did. Meet me with mercy before I let pride and greed consume me, blinding me to Your presence. Show me Your Holy Face and let me know Your will. [bctt tweet="I’m laying down my pride and judgements to see Jesus in front of me. // Gina Fensterer" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today's devotion Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me. Gina Fensterer finds daily life to be perfect for practicing virtue and sometimes blogs about raising up saints (she has six children). She loves the Jesus prayer, long runs, and coffee at any time of day. She is a contributing author to our children's devotional prayer book called Rise Up. You can find out more about her here.

“The King of Love, my shepherd is,” I sing, as I rock my daughter in my arms. “His goodness fails me never. I nothing lack if I am His, and He is mine forever.” This hymn is her lullaby, just as it was for her older brother. The words leave my lips as a prayer, that this message may sink deep into their hearts. “And when he entered Jerusalem, the whole city was shaken and asked, “Who is this?” (Matthew 21:10) Who is this? Recently I have tried to imagine what it would have been like to live in the days when Jesus completed His earthly ministry. I can’t help but wonder what my own reaction to Him would have been. As a modern woman I have the privilege of knowing a great deal of Jesus’ story—especially the one we hear proclaimed at today’s Palm Sunday Mass (Matthew 26:14-27:66). But how would I have felt if I didn’t know all I have read and come to know through a relationship with Him? Who is Jesus? Throughout today’s Gospel the title we hear most often is "Jesus, the King of the Jews." Do you know Jesus to be your king, sister? Certainly the reality of having a king is a bit foreign for us in today’s society. Most of the kings I know are from fairy tale stories of far-off kingdoms. How blessed we are that our King wants us to know and love Him. Our King is the King of Love. The One Who gives Himself to you in the Eucharist, Who gave His life that you might live for eternity with Him. Sister, this is your royal inheritance as a daughter of the Most High King of the Universe. As we enter into this holiest of weeks, let us focus our gaze upon the Lord. The One we see crucified on the Cross, wearing a crown of thorns, did this out of His abiding, merciful love for you—personally. This is the One Who longs to sit upon the throne of your heart. This is Christ Jesus. Our God, and our King. [bctt tweet="Do you know Jesus to be your king, sister? // @inendlesssong" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today's devotion Ask Our Lord in prayer today to sit at the throne of your heart. Ask Him to abide in you and with you this week in particular. Elise Howe is a wife, mother, vocal artist, teacher, and writer. A lover of authentic beauty, Elise is most joyful when creating with the inspiration of the Divine Artist. A born-and-raised Midwestern gal, she happily resides in Michigan after several years "living the dream" in New York City. Elise has a heart for ministry, dark chocolate (but not too dark) and coffee with a generous amount of cream + sugar. She is a contributing author to our Works of Mercy Study: Misericordia. Find out more about her here.

Like the people in today's Gospel (John 10:31-42), we pick up rocks every time we see the “good works” Jesus does in our lives, yet we cannot recognize that He is God. We pick up a jagged rock when we neglect to thank God for answered prayers, which we forgot we brought to Him in the first place. We skip stones over the water Christ recently walked on and pulled us out of when we began to drown. We do this when we no longer are in awe in His presence, or we don’t feel what we once felt in prayer. We see, but don’t believe. Okay, so maybe you haven’t warmed up your arm lately to thrown a stone, but you’ve probably tried to arrest Jesus; and by arrest, I mean you tried to stop, restrain, or limit Him. We arrest Jesus every time we listen to the voice of the evil one over His voice of truth. We arrest Jesus every time we gossip or tear someone down versus notice Christ’s presence in them. We arrest Jesus when we fail to accept help because our stubbornness gives way to pride instead of humility and compassion. We arrest Jesus when we judge others and feel superior to them rather than see our brothers and sisters as equals made in the image and likeness of God. Every time we fail to see, recognize, and accept Jesus as God, we are like the people in John’s Gospel. Jesus isn’t performing miracles so He will be seen; He works miracles in our lives so we will see and know Him. I invite all of us to put down our stones and stop trying to find a way to arrest God. He performs good works, "so we may realize and understand that the Father is in me, and I am in the Father" (John 10:38). [bctt tweet="He works miracles in our lives so we will see and know Him. // @SoCalTriciaT" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today's devotion Take some time in quiet prayer today and examine your heart, bringing it to Him. Tricia Tembreull is a California girl with a boundless passion for life. After two decades of ministering to teens and youth ministers as a trainer, ministry mentor, and speaker in Catholic youth ministry, Tricia now serves as Campus Minister at USC Caruso Catholic Center. She loves adventure and seeks it everywhere she goes. As an avid foodie, she enjoys testing new recipes out on friends and family, gathering them around the table to encounter Christ in one another and be drawn to the satisfying unity we crave in the Eucharist. You can find out more about her here.

It happens to all of us that we forget things on occasion. Last week I was forty-five minutes into my work day before I realized I forgot to brush my teeth. Yesterday I realized I did not put on deodorant. Or what about the time I locked my keys in my car while the car was running in my parents' driveway in college? We can giggle recalling the silly, little things we may forget in daily life. But God? He never forgets anything. The First Reading (Genesis 17:5-8) today has us returning to a story about humanity entering into a relationship with God. God saw Abram, called him out and spoke with him; a new relationship was formed and nurtured. God began to speak promises of hope and fulfillment: I will give you a new name. I will make your generations numerous and plentiful. I am establishing an everlasting covenant with you that will continue forever. I want to be in relationship with you and your future descendants. Can you imagine what that must have felt like for Abraham to absorb such a message from God? God shares with Abraham all these beautiful promises. In return, God asks that Abraham and future generations would observe the Law of God set before them. As we read through the many books of the Old Testament, we know that was not always the case. I think the same can be said in our own lives. Sacred Scripture is full of God speaking promises over His children. God reminds them of who they are, their identity, and the fullness of life He offers. He constantly reminds His children Who He is and who they are, the most important truths that matter in life. Sometimes we forget the promises of God. Life experiences may lead us to feel God is not trustworthy or that He has forgotten us. In spite of what we feel or think, God is trustworthy. He never forgets us. God never forgot about Abraham and all those who came after. He will never forget you and me. [bctt tweet="He never forgets anything. // @amoderngrace" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today's devotion Will you join us in reading Risen: 50 Ways to Live Easter this year? Perhaps now more than ever we can use the encouragement for the season. Patty Breen is a full-time lay minister who finds joy in running, strong cups of coffee, and all things Ignatian spirituality. A Midwestern gal from the mitten state, she is constantly learning to find grace in all things. She is passionate about ministry, writing, a great lipstick color, and smiling is her favorite. Find out more about her here.

Every Lent I find myself drawn to the elusive ideal of living my faith dramatically. I want to be radically changing the world, helping the poor, evangelizing everyone who hasn't heard the good news of the Gospel! But in my very ordinary life, I also live in an area where there is actually much more spiritual poverty than physical, a problem which often seems to have quite complicated solutions. Bringing beauty, kindness, and love to those around me who hunger for these very real spiritual longings feels difficult to do in the face of material comfort, easy distraction, and a loneliness that can be masked with physical pleasures readily available. Most of the time all I can offer is my friendship, my example of being the Catholic they know who goes to Mass regularly, or just a smile and a hello. It seems so easy to believe that a quiet life of faith will make no difference to the sea of indifference in which I live. I think Christ's words today are especially powerful regarding the feeling of futility we can feel in the face of wanting to change the world around us. "If you remain in my word you will truly be my disciples" (John 8:31). Being a disciple of Jesus is how we change the world. Meaningful change in the hearts and minds of individuals, and in turn the world, only happens with the grace of Christ. But Jesus did not say that we have to be constantly doing dramatic things in order to be a disciple. Jesus said to be His disciple we need to remain in His word; that is a much quieter and more interior work that requires patience, perseverance, and time. I may not be called to dramatic, headline-grabbing action to change the world today. But as a disciple of Christ I am called to impact the world; I bring Christ everywhere I go. I'm capable of loving all those in my life with His heart. Being a disciple is necessary and needed so much in every place in the world today. Our world longs for truth and freedom from sin. The only way many will ever know that Christ is the answer is by meeting one of His disciples. [bctt tweet="I want to be radically changing the world. // @ChristyIsinger" username="blessedisshe__"] If you don't have a copy of the Bible or one that you regularly turn to, consider our Catholic Journaling Bible. Christy Isinger is a wife and mom to five lovely, loud children and lives in northern Canada. When not homeschooling, she is a devoted reader of English literature from Jane Austen to Agatha Christie. She writes about the beauty of faith, life, and the home at her blog and is the co-host of the Fountains of Carrots Podcast. She is the author of our Blessed Conversations: The Ten Commandments study found here. You can find out more about her here.

Have you ever been to the desert? I don’t mean places like the Sonora or the Sahara. I’m talking about spiritual deserts, places of dryness, loneliness, and discouragement where our strength fails, where our dreams feel dead. Chances are you have been there, maybe more than once. If you haven’t been there yet, you probably will at some point in your life. My own desert place was a pull-out couch in a NICU room at a children’s hospital. My three-day-old son lay in an incubator a few feet away from me, recovering from surgery. I lay on the pull-out couch recovering from childbirth and three days of intense grief and anxiety. As I lay there staring at the ceiling, my eyes wandered to the window where I could see the cross on top of the dome of our cathedral, just up the hill from the hospital. I fixed my eyes on the cross, knowing that far below it sat a tabernacle, and inside the tabernacle was Our Lord, truly present in the Eucharist. For the first time since my world had been turned upside down three days earlier, I felt that the Lord was with me, even in that desert of a NICU room. I am a firm believer that, despite its aridity, the desert is a great place for growth. It’s not until we’ve been stripped of everything that we learn to be totally dependent on Him. We have no options left but to fix our eyes on Him, like the children of Israel when Moses lifted up the serpent (see Numbers 21:9). It’s there in the desert that He gives healing, consolation, and His unspeakable peace. Our collective desert season of Lent is coming to an end. It is almost time for Our Lord to be lifted up for all to see. The redemption that comes from His suffering and agony is near. Get ready. There is healing in the desert. [bctt tweet="My own desert place was a pull-out couch in a NICU room at a children’s hospital. // Anna Coyne" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today's devotion Are you familiar with the Desert Fathers? Read a few of their slivers of wisdom here. Anna Coyne is a wife, mother, and convert to the Catholic Faith. She is a classically trained pianist who, after teaching for ten years now stays home with her three young children. but still manages to flex her creative muscles through writing, knitting, and gardening. She is proud to call Saint Paul home and loves everything about living in Minnesota, except for winter. She is a contributing author to our children's devotional prayer book called Rise Up. You can find out more about her here.

There is always more to the story. + Something to consider when someone’s words or attitude feel attacking and unwarranted. + Something to keep in mind in a world filled with “click-bait” where both sides of the aisle bend truths to fit narratives favoring their own agenda. + Something to remember when another’s actions, even those objectively wrong, cause me to bristle and jump to harsh judgment and condemnation. There is always more to the story. I find this mindset especially helpful when I notice my attitude toward others lacking the love and mercy Jesus calls us to in today’s Gospel (see John 8:1-11). At first glance, the story of the woman caught in adultery seems like an open and closed case. According to those gathered, she broke the law, the customary consequence was stoning, and that was what they had come to do. “Justice” was to be served. And yet, rather than go along with the status quo or righteously refuting the law, Jesus is found calmly writing on the ground. But we are never told what He writes. And I wonder if this omission of information could be a prompting to remember the importance of asking questions and uncovering more of the story. What did Jesus write? Why was only the woman charged for a crime that takes two people? And in pairing this particular Gospel with the story of Susanna found in the Book of Daniel (see Daniel 13), could the memory of a woman falsely accused and sentenced serve as another example that there is always more to the story? We don’t know the answers to all of these questions. We don’t even know if the woman was actually guilty or just another pawn in the Pharisees’ constant attempts to test Jesus. But perhaps there’s intentionality in those mysteries too. Maybe the question we should be focusing on is who is deserving of love and mercy. And through His words and actions Christ makes this clear: everyone is. "'Neither do I condemn you. Go, and from now on do not sin any more.’” (John 8:11). [bctt tweet="There is always more to the story. // Sarah Rose" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today's devotion Do you have a favorite version of Stations of the Cross? This one is beautiful. Sarah Rose is a small town Ohio girl who is obsessed with all things Ignatian and is passionate about faith, social justice, and the intersection of the two. She left Ohio in 2012 and after a year of service in rural Alaska, earning her Master of Divinity in California, and working at a Connecticut High School, is officially back in Ohio serving as a university Newman Campus Minister. When she’s not working, she enjoys contagious laughter, clever puns, and finding the good in all things. You can find out more about her here.

Almost a year ago in late spring, I started having these feelings of panic that stemmed from a need to have my entire life planned out in front of me immediately. I needed to know exactly where I was going to live, what my career was going to be, how much money I would have, what my body would look like, who my future spouse was going to be, who my friends would be, etc. This wasn’t a vision board of exciting potentials but rather a control and fear-based campaign to force the unknown to be revealed to and approved by me. By the end of summer, I realized that I needed to take deep breaths and pray more rather than worry. And yet the gnawing feeling of the unknown continuously crept into my everyday thoughts and left a trail of anxiety in its wake. Despite my prayer being haggard, I refused to stop praying. I’ve been in love with Jesus all of my life and have been an intentional disciple since I was sixteen. Even when I was wilding out as a young adult, I remained in love Him. And like Martha standing outside the village boundaries with Jesus, my response to Him during times of tragedy, anxiety, confusion is to go deep within my soul and say, "But even now I know that whatever You ask of God, God will give You" (John 11:22). And, "I have come to believe that you are the Christ, the Son of God, the one who is coming into the world" (John 11:27). I believe in the unfailing, infinite love of Jesus that never fades. Even when I’m in the midst of it all, I know Him to be the lover of my soul Who weeps with me. He is above our understanding, and yet He still simplified Himself to come to us as Man and weep. And He elevates us to share in the knowledge that He is the resurrection and the life. When it all seems too much, remember that He is God and He loves you. [bctt tweet="I refused to stop praying. // @chikasworld" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today's devotion Listen to this lenten hymn and let the lyrics sit deep within. Chika Anyanwu is a Catholic evangelist based in Southern California and is also the author of My Encounter: How I Met Jesus In Prayer. Shehas a deep love for Jesus, loves her beautiful Nigerian family, and is a firm believer that if coffee is good, there’s no need for cream or sugar. Find out more here.

There’s a song I have been listening to on repeat lately. The title and lyrics sing of “the secret place,” of a place to run to, a place where the Lord—our rock, our hope—is always there, waiting for us. My vision of this place leapt to my mind when I read: “O Lord my God, in You I take refuge.” Psalm 7:1 This is a simple Scripture. One I have heard many times over the course of my Christian life. Yet as I pray into it, I am deeply moved by one tiny word: “in.” In You I take refuge. Not with, but in You. This preposition just might be the key to unlock the door which leads to this place of deeper intimacy with the Lord. The kind we experience in His true presence. In the Lord’s gaze. This is where we find a secure dwelling. This is where we find safety from the snares of the world, where our hearts are protected from harm. Can you sense how beautifully intimate this is, sisters? And how personally He longs for your heart? The Lord desires to be so close to us. He wraps us in His arms. He holds us in His Most Sacred Heart. He calls us ever deeper, ever further into relationship with Him. As the end of Lent draws nearer, find a few minutes to run away with the Lord to a secret place. Tell Him the longings of your heart, praise Him for His goodness, or simply rest in His presence. Allow Him to love you there. [bctt tweet="In You I take refuge. // @inendlesssong" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today's devotion Let us visit Him right here. Elise Howe is a wife, mother, vocal artist, teacher, and writer. A lover of authentic beauty, Elise is most joyful when creating with the inspiration of the Divine Artist. A born-and-raised Midwestern gal, she happily resides in Michigan after several years "living the dream" in New York City. Elise has a heart for ministry, dark chocolate (but not too dark) and coffee with a generous amount of cream + sugar. She is a contributing author to our Works of Mercy Study: Misericordia. Find out more about her here.

A young professed Sister relayed a formative moment in her early years in our religious community. She and a perpetually professed Sister were making their daily commute on Staten Island Ferry to Manhattan in rush hour. The ferry carried a sea of humanity. At one point, she noticed a man walking by finishing the last bites of a sandwich. To her shock, she watched as he slowed down, wadded the sandwich wrapper, and pelted it at the perpetually professed Sister reading. The sense of shock filled that corner of the ferry, but the Sister reading did not skip a beat. In fact, she barely reacted. She flinched when the wrapper hit her. It rolled down and settled on her lap; she lifted her book slightly and it fell to the ground. She continued reading. When asked about her response, the Sister explained that she did not react very much because she figured we never know what kind of response our presence will provoke in other people. It was a lesson in humility and simplicity. Sisters, we are often misunderstood in our daily striving to live in Christ according to the heart of the Church. At times, it is our very way of life that serves as an annoyance to the status quo. And while the Lord sometimes invites us to speak up to share the truth, it is often our simple presence as disciples that makes people uncomfortable. In the First Reading today, the writer of the Book of Wisdom says that the presence of the righteous man annoyed his evil opponents and they plotted against him. We join the heart of the Church and countless theologians and mystics in using this passage to meditate on the mystery of evil and the triumph of grace. We can look to Our Lord Jesus as the One Who offered Himself entirely in love for love, and we can ask Him for the grace to walk forward in the life of grace. Our presence may be surprising or even shocking to people, but we entrust everyone and every situation into the hands of the One Who can work everything for good. [bctt tweet="It was a lesson in humility and simplicity. // @srmariakim" username="blessedisshe__"] Pray the litany of humility today. Sister Maria Kim Bui is a Daughter of Saint Paul, women religious dedicated to evangelization in and through the media. She is originally from Tempe, AZ, spent most of her eighteen years in religious life in the northeast, some time in Texas, and now was recently asked to serve as the director of marketing and sales at the Sisters' publishing house in Boston. She is a contributing author to our children's devotional prayer book called Rise Up and the author of our Blessed Conversations Mystery: Belong found here. Find out more about her here.

Even if you're like me, a seasoned or cradle Catholic who has lived many Lents, it's still interesting to contemplate each year what we actually believe and how our everyday actions speak to that faith. By clearing the way for deeper introspection with fasting and sacrifice, it can be easier to identify these motivations, but it can feel pretty ugly when we reveal them. Jesus' words in today's Gospel, John 5:31-47, shake me. Do I seek the words of praise of others over the praise and gaze of the Lord? I spend a lot of time cultivating the words and good opinion of people around me. If not a complete people pleaser, I do love meeting people's expectations at the very least, preferably exceeding them. I love praise and admiration from others. And to be honest, it can be less emotionally taxing to get that approval from others than it can be to hear the quiet word of peace from the Lord in prayer. Prayer takes silence, time, and there's usually very little to Instagram afterwards. Conversely, it can be much easier to be "influenced" by "influencers" on Instagram than it can be to absorb the Word of God every day. I am a consumer of content created to catch my eye but do I spend even that much time every day in quiet reception of God's presence? Why do I look for satisfaction, acceptance, and happiness from my screen rather than spending time with Jesus Who wants to give me His very heart in relationship? Lent is the opportunity I need to examine why I make these choices. Lent allows me to search the desert to see what really motivates me. And Lent is the time where I can heed the words of Jesus, to believe in Him anew and to begin to choose to act of love for Him instead of what the world so easily supplies. [bctt tweet="Do I seek the words of praise of others over the praise and gaze of the Lord? // @ChristyIsinger" username="blessedisshe__"] No matter how your Lent has been going so far, renew your steadfastness today to surrender your heart and entrust it to the Lord. Christy Isinger is a wife and mom to five lovely, loud children and lives in northern Canada. When not homeschooling, she is a devoted reader of English literature from Jane Austen to Agatha Christie. She writes about the beauty of faith, life, and the home at her blog and is the co-host of the Fountains of Carrots Podcast. She is the author of our Blessed Conversations: The Ten Commandments study found here. You can find out more about her here.

When I studied in France the summer between my freshman and sophomore year of high school, I was nervous, bought lots of calling cards to dial home, and dragged my pink and white teddy bear along for comfort. The first time I said the Rosary with my French host family, my heart really stuck on "pleine de grâce"—full of grace. Our Lady was filled with it, full of it. God's grace animated and moved her and guided her. I felt full of Nutella and homesickness. It wasn't until graduate school, really, some eight years later that I was in a place where I could be really filled with God's grace. Our Lady had been working on my heart, generously distributing graces all those years in between. And in law school, she showed me what it meant to be "pleine de grâce" through devout friends + compassionate teachers + a culture of prayer + a devastating break up + a spark of great spiritual direction in the confessional. Sister, if you feel a bit underdeveloped spiritually, filled with all the good intentions and armed with well-designed prayer books, apps you keep meaning to use on your phone, and unopened emails from Blessed is She's writing team, it's okay. Ask Our Lady to prep your heart so you can be ready to cooperate with God's grace like she was. We can't force spiritual maturity. We just keep showing up and asking for help, trying to place ourselves in spiritually healthy situations, and ask God to work with what we've got. [bctt tweet="Our Lady had been working on my heart. // @WholeParenting" username="blessedisshe__"] Are you already a daily devo subscriber? If not, subscribe today. If so, share the subscription link with a friend. It may change her life. Nell O'Leary is a recovering lawyer-turned-writer and speaker who loves sewing baby goods while tending to her husband and four kiddos in the great city of Saint Paul, Minnesota. She serves as Managing Editor for Blessed is She and can down a hot cocoa in no time flat. Find out more about her here. She is the editor of our Blessed Conversations Series and guide for the Gift of You course.

I will never forget the Saturday afternoon in Georgia when my vision left me while I was speaking at a women’s retreat. I was reading a quote from Saint Pope John Paul II when all of a sudden, my vision was gone. I knew there was a music stand in front of me, so I reached to place the quote I could no longer read down and heard the single piece of paper flutter to the ground. I missed the music stand. I could only make figures out in the room. So I finished the talk, spoke to some women afterward, and then realized I was alone in the room. I was blind and scared and didn’t know what to do. I uttered a prayer, walked out of the building, and from memory, made my way back to the cabin where I was staying. I felt so alone like the man in John’s Gospel 5:1-16 who had no one to put him in the pools of Bethesda. But unlike this man, I refused to wait thirty-eight years for help! I had to accept the help of the people God was placing in my life to help me heal. Many of us feel alone, even when a crowd surrounds us. We feel alone during seasons of known and unknown diagnoses, addictions, and breakups. But at this minute, Jesus Himself is coming to you and, just like this man in John’s Gospel, He knows what has been ailing you for a long time. He is asking you today, “Do you want to be well?” What is your excuse? The man in John’s Gospel had a long explanation, and Jesus ignored it. Jesus is ignoring your excuses too. He is asking you to pick up your mat and walk. Walk away from doubt, fear, and sin and walk toward healing, reconciliation, and love. Do you want to be well? Of course, you do, and Jesus wants to bring you to complete spiritual healing. Take His hand as He helps you stand. [bctt tweet="Jesus Himself is coming to you. // @SoCalTriciaT" username="blessedisshe__"] Have you received the Sacrament of Anointing of the Sick? If you are struggling with an illness or medical condition, consider asking your priest about it. Read more here. Tricia Tembreull is a California girl with a boundless passion for life. After two decades of ministering to teens and youth ministers as a trainer, ministry mentor, and speaker in Catholic youth ministry, Tricia now serves as Campus Minister at USC Caruso Catholic Center. She loves adventure and seeks it everywhere she goes. As an avid foodie, she enjoys testing new recipes out on friends and family, gathering them around the table to encounter Christ in one another and be drawn to the satisfying unity we crave in the Eucharist. You can find out more about her here.

If Jesus hadn't performed any miracles, it would have been much more difficult for people to believe that He was the Messiah, that He was Who He said He was, and that He had been sent by God. Others during that time claimed that they were the Messiah, but they didn't heal people or raise them from the dead or turn water into wine. Only Jesus did that. And when He did, the Father in Heaven was glorified and people believed. That was the purpose of His miracles. Just as Jesus said in today's Gospel, "Unless you see signs and portents you will not believe!" (John 4:48) He knew what people of that time needed to see to believe. And He knows what we need today to believe, and He gives us those things: exactly what we need, along with the graces, to believe. So we may or may not receive a miracle for our circumstances, but we do have signs that we can look at continuously to increase our belief in Him: Jesus' real presence in the Eucharist. The Sacraments. Jesus' Passion and Resurrection. God knows our hearts intimately, and I believe that He gives us little consolations here and there—even on a daily basis—that remind us of His presence in our lives and His love for us. So maybe instead of praying and asking God for a sign, let us pray today to have the eyes to see it—whatever He is already placing in our lives to increase our belief. [bctt tweet="The Father in Heaven was glorified and people believed. // @praymorenovenas" username="blessedisshe__"] Read about this great doubting Saint and take courage. Annie Deddens is a writer and producer. She runs a prayer ministry with her husband, called Pray More Novenas. She has a heart for the sick & suffering, and she writes about living with greater faith (hope & love, too) in this imperfect world as a Catholic wife. You can find out more about her here.