“I did not come to condemn the world but to save the world.” // John 12:47 When I cease to identify with the sick and the sinners in the Gospel, I lose my need for a Savior. If I start to look down on the thieves, possessed, adulterers, and chronically ill humans who encountered Jesus, I become a Pharisee. If I believe myself to be above their faults and failures then I deem myself above the grasp of God, for His default posture toward us is bending low.  Like those who first heard Jesus’ words in today’s Gospel (see John 12:44-50), I am called to turn my sick soul away from sin and toward a life of grace. I am called to be “sent forth by the Holy Spirit” (Acts 13:4). But I must never forget that I remain in need of His salvation at every moment.  How quickly I take my salvation into my own hands! Most of the time this urge springs from two manifestations of pride: haughtiness or self-reliance.  Haughtiness tempts me to believe that I am pretty great on my own. I’ve got it together! Things are going well for me! And it’s all thanks to my brilliance, charisma, holiness, and discipline! I become blind to my helplessness and call myself the light of the world. I forget my need for a Savior. The other side of this pride is a sad self-reliance. Here, I am well-aware of my sins, shortcomings, and desperation. But I believe the voice that lies: No one is coming to save you.  Thus, I struggle in shame and try to do it myself in spite of Christ’s promise, “I did not come to condemn the world but to save the world” (John 12:47). My self-condemnation heightens when I try to save myself. I forget the Savior came for me. We are free when we remain convinced of our constant need of saving while living in the joy that Jesus has, in fact, come to save us. How do you need Him to save you today? Take a few moments of quiet prayer now. Tell Him of your need for Him. And trust that He has come just for you.

Open our hearts, O Lord, to listen to the words of your Son. // Gospel Acclamation (based on Acts 16:14b) Lately, I’ve begun each morning by asking our Lady to open my heart just a sliver.  Trials and traumas calloused parts of my heart that I can’t even detect, and I’m too weary to open my heart with my own parched strength. I need my heavenly Mother to do it. And I know the Holy Spirit can enter my heart through a mere sliver and move mightily. In today’s First Reading, David is wracked with grief over the loss of Israel’s king and his best friend (see 2 Samuel 1:1-4, 11-12, 19, 23-27). He is clearly shaken. In the Gospel, the people who knew Jesus while He was growing up were hardened against His preaching because they refused to or were unable to see Him as He was (see Mark 3:20-21).   How often do we find ourselves in these states? Broken and desperate, cold and unbelieving.  But the Gospel Acclamation reveals the proper response in these moments: “Open our hearts, O Lord, to listen to the words of your Son.” Particularly in these overwhelming moments, we need the truth of Christ’s words to penetrate our hardened hearts and heal what cannot be healed by human effort. Yet we cannot even open our hearts by ourselves. We need His grace to do so. We must simply desire to be open to God, to turn our gaze toward Him, and to invite Him to help us.  And He will. Every single time.  He will “rouse [His] power, and come to save us” (Psalm 80:3). Jesus longs to save, heal, and restore us. He begins that work here on earth, for most of us will complete it in purgatory, so that we will be completely healed when He leads us into Heaven. He is aware of our weaknesses. He is not deterred.  So today, ask Jesus to open your heart. Invite Mary to help you do so. Ask the Lord for the grace of healing and belief, direction and salvation. Be faithful in this request, and you will witness how much He can do with a sliver of supplication.

Blessed the man who is gracious and lends to those in need. // Psalm 112:5 I followed my dear friend into her living room, lit only by lamps and candles. My eyes beheld the spread of food she had prepared for our small prayer group: berries, cheeses, chocolate-covered nuts, and springtime mocktails. As I dragged a sugar snap pea through the roasted cauliflower hummus, I choked back tears.  “Would you like a blanket?” my friend asked, bringing me a cozy cover that consumed my body as it sank deeper into the couch. I exhaled. My Bible rested in my lap as our group shared life updates. I held it closer as we dove below the surface, my oxygen in a sea of my sisters’ sorrows.  Then, our friend prayed for us. She encouraged us, in Christ, to persevere in hope. Staggering under the weight of my own crosses, the entire night felt like a retreat.  My friend is always incredibly generous. She is the kind of woman who lives today’s Responsorial Psalm (see Psalm 112), not just on the days she’s feeling generous, but every day. Her own battle with cancer did not stop her from showering us with comfort and care that night. Through hospitality—but even more so through her witness—she loved her neighbor as herself (see Romans 13:9). Her generosity of spirit in the midst of her own suffering illustrated to me what Christ calls us to in today’s Gospel: “Whoever does not carry his own cross and come after me cannot be my disciple” (Luke 14:25-33). She is a true disciple. Yes, my friend had long ago “counted the cost” of following Jesus wherever He leads. She found Him worthy. So her struggles, triumphs, and generosity are all borne from Him and for Him. The fruit her life bears? Love. His Love.  Friends, our crosses can consume us. But when we allow the Lord to love through us, our lives become a testimony to His generosity and provision.  Today, let’s allow Jesus, Whom we follow no matter the cost, to love others through us. How can you be generous toward someone today?

[E]ars open to obedience you gave me. // Psalm 40:6 It was undeniable. All the evidence was spread before me. My failure to obey God’s direction led to a failure in my life. The still, small voice I had silenced by my selfishness could no longer be ignored.  The Lord was right. He wanted my good. I thought I knew better. And I was wrong. Now, instead of walking in the clear freedom of obedience, I was stumbling, attempting to pick up the pieces shattered by my self-will.  I wish I could tell you that this singular occurrence settled so deeply in my soul that all my days henceforth were lived in perfect obedience. But it had happened before and it has happened since. I make excuses for my wants, I justify my fear, and I listen to worldly counselors over my heavenly Counselor.  Every time I choose to ignore the direction of the Holy Spirit, I regret it. It doesn’t always end in obvious failure, but the discontent in my soul is a bad fruit of the knowledge that I chose against God’s desire for me.  I want the song of my life to harmonize with the words of the Psalm Response for today: “Here I am, Lord; I come to do your will.” This will require a lifelong refining. But upon each failure, the Lord meets me with mercy and reminds me that He gave me ears open to obedience. He has given me everything I need to follow Him. He does not withhold from me; it is my heart that must choose to conform my will to His. So let us pray for more obedient hearts! Let us invite the Holy Spirit into our lives each morning, knowing that humble, quiet obedience pleases Him more than our most extravagant offerings.  Here we are, Lord; we come to do Your will! 

Therefore, encourage one another and build one another up. // 1 Thessalonians 5:11 Some friends and I often quip about Saint Thérèse of Lisieux's strategy for avoiding sin in conversation.  In her autobiography, The Story of a Soul, Thérèse tells the story of a time in which she and some of her sisters in the convent were chatting in the hallway. The conversation took a less-than-noble turn. How did one of the greatest Saints of modernity handle this temptation? She ran away. She literally fled the scene!  After reading this, my friends and I joke that we pull a “Thérèse” when we need to control our tongues but can’t apart from dismissing ourselves from a situation. While the visual of this departure is humorous, there is wisdom in training ourselves to engage in speech that is uplifting and encouraging, as Saint Paul tells us in today’s First Reading (see 1 Thessalonians 5:1-6, 9-11). We know we should not tear down through speech, but how often do we truly examine our days and our conversations to identify problems and pitfalls?  In today’s Gospel (see Luke 4:31-37), we see that Jesus’ Word has power. His Word brings freedom and healing. We are made in God’s image and likeness. So we should strive to be like Him. Do the words we use toward others speak freedom, healing, and encouragement? Do the words we use about others do the same? Most of us have experienced the gift of receiving encouraging or kind words from another. Take a moment to remember how that felt in your soul. Don’t we want to offer that same gift to other people? Or, at the very least, avoid robbing someone of it through hurtful or careless words? This week, be intentional about your words. Model our Savior. Try to build up someone else through your words at least once a day. If a conversation is littered with gossip, say something kind about the person being spoken about or change the subject. And, of course, you can always pull a Thérèse!

Teach us to number our days aright, that we may gain wisdom of heart. // Psalm 90:12 As I braked for the stop sign, I saw them out of the corner of my eye. The familiarity of the scene turned my head fully toward them. She was a young mother, pushing her baby—likely her first—in a stroller on a magnificent spring afternoon. I smiled and waved them safely across the street.  I experienced the memory in my entire body. Just under a decade ago, I was that first time mother pushing my son in a stroller on sunny afternoons. In fact, it was those same streets we walked, day after day, as he became acquainted with the world and I became acquainted with motherhood.  A heavy sigh escaped my chest as I closed my eyes. It really does go quickly, I thought. The chorus of my now-four-children’s chatter brought me back to the present, and I prayed today’s Psalm. Teach me to number my days, Lord. They are fleeting. Make my heart wise so I may walk in Your ways and live my days well. True wisdom is gained through numbering our days. When we view our lives through the lens of the end of them, perspective becomes clearer. Suddenly, we know exactly what matters most. We know where we want to be and what decisions will help us get there (even if they seem painful in the present moment).  These swift but important times of reflection are what help us to remember our eternal destination and to allow the Lord to teach us how to number, order, and prioritize our days to that end.  In what areas of your life are you feeling overwhelmed? What feels confusing or scary? In prayer, consider your days and your ultimate goal of Heaven. Ask the Holy Spirit for His gift of wisdom, for it goes more quickly than we realize.

The salvation of the just is from the LORD; he is their refuge in time of distress. // Psalm 37:39-40 Tears of betrayal taste different. This is just conjecture, of course, but it seems as though their elevated acidity highlights the emotional burn.  In today’s Gospel, Jesus addresses the pain of betrayal, acknowledging that He sends His disciples out like sheep among wolves (see Matthew 10:16-23). He is not unaware or disinterested in the heartbreak that comes with being blamed for your beliefs.  Being attacked for your convictions by a rando on the Internet hits differently than being attacked for your beliefs by a family member. The corruption-at-large in society is easier to stomach than the false accusations and misunderstandings of people you hold dear. Being “handed over by your brother” who is a Christian is more painful than being handed over by a stranger whose face discloses a twister of the soul.  The breaking of blissful bonds threaten to bend us until we break.  No, being a sheep among wolves does not diminish distress. What propels us forward is this promise: “I am God, the God of your father. Do not be afraid . . . ” (Genesis 46:3). We have hope because, in the midst of distressing wolves, we have a “refuge in time of distress” (Psalm 27:40). We are confident because “you will be given at that moment what you are to say. For it will not be you who speak but the Spirit of your Father speaking through you” (Matthew 10:20).  Even though we are sheep among wolves, we are not alone. We are seen, protected, healed, and provided for. We can be at peace in the midst of pain because we are not left vulnerable to the elements of emotional turmoil. God is our refuge. God is our salvation. God is the One Who invites us to endure and He is the One Who makes our endurance possible.  How are you feeling like a sheep among wolves in your life right now? Have you endured ongoing “handing over” by family or friends? Offer your tears of betrayal to Jesus, Who promised to provide for you in these exact moments. And rest in Him, Who is your Refuge.

[Y]ou shall be my special possession, dearer to me than all other people, though all the earth is mine. // Exodus 19:5 I am picking up on a pattern in my life with the Lord. When He asks something missional of me, I can work backward and see that the “sending forth” is preceded by a period of particular intimacy with Him. (And, before that, a hefty dose of suffering, pruning, or purification.)  God made us for Himself, so He is aware of our deep longing for Him. We want to be His “special possession.” We desire to be “dearer” to Him “than all other people.”  And, blessedly, we are.  This extravagant love is so generous that we can be tempted to believe that it may be true for everyone else . . . just maybe not for us. After all, look at all I’ve done. Look at how I’ve failed and faltered. Look at my laundry list of sins and shortcomings. Look at my littleness. Yet it is precisely this helplessness that draws His Heart toward us. We see this in today’s Gospel when “At the sight of the crowds, Jesus’ heart was moved with pity for them because they were troubled and abandoned, like sheep without a shepherd” (Matthew 9:36). Even Saint Paul in the First Reading proclaims the truth that “God proves his love for us in that while we were still sinners Christ died for us” (Romans 5:8). God brings the unworthy and unlikely to Himself. He loves us as a shepherd, in spite of our brokenness. He loves us specifically and sets us apart. Then, He sends us out—still unworthy and unlikely—but transformed by His grace. His love is not merely consoling: it’s propelling. Being chosen by and brought close to God necessarily ignites within us the desire to tell others about this life, too.  He is not concerned with the worldly size of our mission field. It does not matter whether you are speaking of His love on a stage in a stadium, or to your toddler at bedtime, or with your co-workers during lunch.  You have been set apart to proclaim His Heart.  Sister, consider today how the Lord is bringing you close to Himself. Then, ask Him where He would like you to labor for the harvest.

Philip said to Jesus, "Master, show us the Father, and that will be enough for us." // John 14:8 For the last few months, every time I quiet my mind and heart and turn to Jesus in prayer, I’m eating. I had asked Jesus to show me the Father, and ever since, He’s been feeding me. Dates, figs, berries, sandwiches, Chinese food . . . it’s all delectable and delightful. This has a lot to do with how the Lord is claiming His Fatherhood in my life personally, but I think it holds something for us all. God is a Father of provision. He is concerned with our supernatural needs primarily, but He is also concerned with our natural needs. After all, He is the One Who created us with them. So when Jesus spoke to His disciples about the Father on Holy Thursday, He followed it up with a meal that would satisfy both their stomachs and their souls. So often we can assume that the Father is distant and disinterested. We relate to Jesus because He is Emmanuel, “God with us.” But this reality does not negate the Father’s interest and involvement in our lives; after all, the Father is the One Who sent the Son. And it is through the Son that we reach our ultimate resting place: the holy arms of the Father (see Responsorial Psalm). In my prayer and in this Gospel, the message is clear: God feeds us. Even more, He feeds us with Himself. The Holy Eucharist is the food offered to us in all seasons and in all our needs. Our physical hunger points to our spiritual hunger. And maybe you’re starving. Maybe it’s been a long time since you have gone to the Father’s house—since you have been to Mass. Maybe your life feels like a marathon, and you are in need of constant nourishment. Maybe you’ve been gorging on the scraps of sin and long to return to the true Feast. In all your hunger, look to the Father. How do you need to be fed today? Receive His mercy in Reconciliation and come to the Eucharistic feast, where all your needs are met.

Mary Magdalene stayed outside the tomb weeping. // John 20:11 Have you ever seen those shirts that say “I’m with him” and have an arrow pointing to where, presumably, one’s significant other is to stand? Sometimes I wish I could have one of those that points to Jesus. I just want to be where He is. Most of the time, I have no idea where we are or where we’re going or what He’s up to, but I’d just like to remain right by His side. If I leave His side, it always ends poorly. If I stay near Him, my soul is at rest. Saint Mary Magdalene knew this power of staying with Jesus. In today’s Gospel, we meet her standing outside His tomb. Everyone else was tucked away in homes and shelters; but Jesus was Mary’s home and shelter. For years, she had spent her waking moments by His side. He had already saved her once. And even in the wake of His death, she stayed in the only place she knew how—where He was. Easter Sunday was upon her. Jesus was alive. He was moving. But she could not yet see this resurrection, and her grief still overwhelmed her. And yet she stayed. Maybe this is where you are this Easter. You believe that Jesus is alive, but you do not yet see the Resurrection. Maybe you’re standing, weeping, outside the tomb. But friend, keep staying. Stay near the One Who is your home and shelter. Stay near the One Who has saved you again and again and trust that He will come to save you yet again. Stay and weep near Him, weep for Him. Wait for the Lord, Who is our help and our shield, as today’s Responsorial Psalm proclaims (see Psalm 33:20). He will call your name as He called Mary’s, and He will reward your unrelenting faithfulness with His unrelenting presence. {formbuilder:MTAxMDY1}

Therefore, if you bring your gift to the altar, and there recall that your brother has anything against you, leave your gift there at the altar, go first and be reconciled with your brother, and then come and offer your gift. // Matthew 5:23-24 My stomach swirled, and my palms dampened. I knew what needed to be said. The Holy Spirit had convicted me. Even more, I was confident that I would be received by my friend with love and mercy. But I was nervous to admit I was wrong, to own the hurt I had caused, and to ask for forgiveness. In today’s Gospel, Jesus speaks for many verses about the importance of forgiveness and reconciliation. Our forgiveness of others is highlighted, and we often prefer to focus our attention here. It is necessary to reflect on how we have been hurt and to forgive those who were responsible. But we can become so engrossed in forgiving “those who trespass against us” that we miss the precursor of being “forgiven our trespasses.” And, let’s be honest, contemplating our own failings and offenses against others takes a direct hit at our pride and self-righteousness. We aren’t the victims in those instances. We aren’t owed anything—we owe something to someone. People live with the consequences of our sins and shortcomings, and our call is to work for restoration where we have brought destruction (of whatever gravity). Jesus is clear about what we are to do. We need to apologize. These conversations sting, are uncomfortable, and are unpredictable in response. But they bring freedom! There is so much freedom in knowing that I’ve done my best to make a wrong right, humbled myself and asked forgiveness from God and man, and am willing to put in the effort to repair the damage. I am a sinner and will live my entire life making mistakes; but I am also a receiver of God’s grace, mercy, and direction. His conviction is a call to conversion. His promptings are a promise of peace. Who has God laid on your heart today while reading this Gospel? Who do you need forgiveness from? Pray about what God is asking you to do in that situation. Resolve to ask for forgiveness. Open your heart, and the Holy Spirit will grant you the humility, honesty, and hope necessary to do so.

They came bringing to him a paralytic carried by four men. Unable to get near Jesus because of the crowd, they opened up the roof above him. // Mark 2:3-4 “I know you can’t pray right now, so I’m praying in your place.” The text from my best friend came through as I coaxed my cheek off the cool tile floor. I wiped the remaining vomit from the corner of my mouth—was it the grief or the early pregnancy?—and responded, “Thanks.” Then I laid back down near the toilet, continuing to not pray. Today’s Gospel account is profound to pray with using lectio divina. Often, I sense the eagerness of the paralytic: the hope he must have had in meeting Jesus, the gratitude he felt toward his persistent friends, the deep desire to be healed. But sometimes I imagine he felt the opposite (because sometimes I do, too). What if he did not want to go see the Teacher that day? What if he had ceased to hope? What if he was resigned to his suffering? And what if his friends brought him to Jesus anyway? During that particularly intense season of suffering in my life, I was overwhelmed by “the crowds” of distraction, disappointment, and despair. I had to humbly rely on my community to do the heavy lifting to the roof and the lowering before the Healer. I often quipped that I couldn’t leave Jesus because the people in my life kept dragging me back to Him. Thank God for them. There will be challenges in our lives that are crushing. But we must not lose hope. Jesus continuously calls us to Himself, ready to receive us at our weakest. He promises us forgiveness and healing that this world cannot provide. And if you can’t bring yourself to His feet, ask your friends to carry you there. After all, this is what we do every time we intercede for one another. Who in your life can you pray for today? Think about it now. Name them. And do it. Drag them to the Lord and don’t stop.

Beloved: The way we may be sure that we know Jesus is to keep his commandments. // 1 John 2:3 One of the traps of sin is that it blindfolds us. The deeper we are entrenched in sin, the more likely we are to commit more sin, to make excuses, to despair of God’s mercy, and, ironically, to judge others more harshly for their faults. It changes our vision. The darkness of sin is contrasted with Jesus, the Light of the World. By the light of His grace and truth, we are able to really see. Today’s First Reading and Gospel relate to this spiritual seeing. Saint John (see 1 John 2:3-11) speaks about light vs. darkness in relation to God’s commands. When we follow the law of God, we are “in the light” and thus are able to see Him more clearly and respond to the plans He has for us. In the Gospel (Luke 2:22-35), we meet Saint Simeon, a man who had spent years watching for the Messiah. He had been promised that he would not “see” death until he “saw” the Promised One. Simeon was faithful to the Lord, which means he was able to recognize Him as a tiny Babe. Simeon’s whole heart was bathed in the light of following God’s law, so God was able to speak through him. When we keep God’s commands and have eyes for Him, as Simeon did, we are able to see clearly. This not only influences our interior life; it transforms the way we see others. As Saint John proclaimed, we cannot be in the light yet hate our brother. Spiritually seeing by the light shifts the way we treat others. Today, ask the Holy Spirit to remove any blindfolds of sin and show you where He wants His glorious light to shine in your soul. Tell Him about what feels dark in your life and ask Him to bring the light of His Truth. And let’s get to the Sacrament of Confession this week so that we can be cleansed of sin and renew our commitment to following God’s laws. Then, with unimpaired spiritual seeing, let us watch for Him everywhere. [bctt tweet="He wants His glorious light to shine in your soul. // Olivia Spears" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

For I am the least of the Apostles, not fit to be called an Apostle, because I persecuted the Church of God. But by the grace of God I am what I am, and his grace to me has not been ineffective. // 1 Corinthians 15:9 God doesn’t waste time. Early in my conversion of heart, I lamented about the years I had thrown away by chasing lives and loves apart from Him. Even after Confession and an overhaul of soul, I was still tempted toward shame. Quickly, the Lord made it clear that He wastes nothing—even our sorrows and sinful pasts—that is offered to Him in love. I have seen this grand display of mercy in my own life and in the lives of others. God takes what we believe to be unrevivable and resurrects it for His glory. Saint Paul speaks to this in today’s First Reading (1 Corinthians 15:1-11). Jesus transformed one of the greatest persecutors of the Faith into one of its greatest champions. Jesus will transform and use our faults, failings, and fickleness, too, not to elevate us in the eyes of the world, but to point the eyes of the world to Himself. This work is largely hidden, and today’s feast of Our Lady of Sorrows reminds us that transformation is often unseen and won through much suffering, for even her own freedom from Original Sin in her Immaculate Conception was won by the Cross of her Son. Staying with Christ Crucified in confidence and love is a “contradiction,” like Simeon prophesied in today’s Gospel (Luke 2:33-35). Remaining with Him through struggles with sin, overwhelming suffering, and the burdens of daily life involves a sort of piercing of our hearts. But this grace is not ineffective, and Our Lady shows us the Way. She does not let us wallow in our own sorrows, but constantly witnesses to the resurrection Jesus offers us through them. Today, talk with the Lord about the “swords” that are piercing your heart. What are your sorrows? Where is the strife? Entrust everything to Our Lady of Sorrows whose perfect, sinless heart was pierced so that our thoughts may be revealed and transformed for His glory. [bctt tweet="God doesn’t waste time. // Olivia Spears" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

He has filled the hungry with good things. // Luke 1:53 “This isn’t how I thought it would happen,” I whispered to Him in the monstrance. This time with Him allowed me enough pause to objectively observe the thousand subjective matters that weighed upon my heart. From this view, I could see how He was fulfilling promises and answering prayers. But it looked different than I imagined. My ideal path involved no stress, pain, brokenness, or struggle, ignoring that my pained and broken heart exists in a stressful and struggling world. It turns out God’s way—the better way—involved pruning, purifying, detaching, and refining. That was less comfortable. On this feast of the Assumption of Mary, we are treated to her Magnificat. These are the first words we hear from Our Lady after her fiat, when her life irrevocably changed. While Mary was full of grace, this sudden shift in trajectory was surprising. Yet Mary met this moment with magnificent praise. Mary discerned that God was fulfilling His promises in a way that perhaps looked different than what her people imagined. But she was not flustered because she hungered for the best thing: God Himself. She didn’t crave God for His blessings or promises. She hungered for Him. She didn’t fill the “belly” of her soul with feastings of fantasy, but came to His table empty of self and ready to be filled by Him alone. The discomfort she would experience because of this way did not deter or discourage her because she knew she would be given everything she needed by the One she solely desired. I looked up at my Beloved again, the options clarified. I could wander from Him in disappointment, feeding myself with false promises; or, I could hunger for Him alone, trusting that no matter the finite fare, when I am filled by and with Him, I lack no good thing. Spend time in prayer today reflecting on your “hunger points.” Is there anything you’re asking from God that you’re holding more tightly than God Himself? What “good things” is He filling you with today, even if the plan looks different than what you had imagined? [bctt tweet="When I am filled by and with Him, I lack no good thing. // Olivia Spears " username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

I will put my spirit in you that you may live, and I will settle you upon your land; thus you shall know that I am the LORD. I have promised, and I will do it, says the LORD. // Ezekiel 37:14 Once upon a time, God sent me a dress. My extended family was preparing to take some important photos. The photos were urgent and scheduled last-minute. The color scheme was set. And my wardrobe was lacking. These pictures are ones my family would treasure forever, so I searched for "navy blue dresses" online and finally found one that could arrive in time. But our budget wouldn't allow for it. My soul already plunged in a deep darkness, I went to bed that night crying to the Lord. These pictures were important to someone I loved, and I felt gutted that I couldn't provide the ideal. I hadn't really spoken with the Lord in a while, yet this silly need broke me open. A dress felt like a ridiculous thing to be upset about, which is why I didn't express my sadness to anyone but Him. The next evening, my best friend unexpectedly presented me with a small bag. "I was cleaning out my closet," she chirped, "and thought these would look cute on you!" Upon my inspection, the small bag held two pieces of clothing. One was a navy blue dress. I smiled, immediately understanding Who this dress was truly from. Does God need to prove His love for us in these small ways? No. Does He anyway? Yes. In today's First Reading, the Lord promised to settle His people in a good land so that they would know His love (Isaiah 43:16-21). In the Gospel, we hear of Jesus’ abundant gift of mercy and compassion to the adulterous woman. Saint Paul reminds us of the gift of faith in Jesus. The Lord remains a thoughtful and intentional God. He knows our hearts and He knows when we most need His lavish and specific love. What longings are pressed into your heart right now? Have you told the Lord about them? How is He providing what you need in this season—even in the "silly" ways? [bctt tweet="The Lord remains a thoughtful and intentional God. // Olivia Spears" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion

"Take courage, it is I, do not be afraid! He got into the boat with them . . . ." // Mark 6:50 I used to think that peace came from close-to-ideal circumstances. That if I could just find the solution, get over the hump, or discover one more life hack that my fear would dissipate and then I would arrive at peace. In today's Gospel reading, the disciples are on the sea in the midst of a storm. They see Jesus walking on the water toward them and absolutely freak out. These were the same disciples who had watched Him multiply the loaves and fishes just earlier that day. Jesus exhorts them to have no fear. Then, He gets in the boat with them. In exploring the feeling of fear, we must look for the root of its antithesis. Lucky for us, we do not need to search far, for Saint John the Beloved provides the answer in today's First Reading: "Perfect love drives out fear" (1 John 4:18). It's love. Rather, it is Love. Peace is not dependent upon a life without crosses; rather, it is a fruit of knowing—deeply knowing—that whatever happens, Love is with me. Love does not merely tell me to not be afraid; He gets in my boat. I am quick to forget this when the storms of life arrive. I proclaim my peace in His presence when He is miraculously feeding the multitudes. Then, two hours later, I get the bad news or have the argument or remember the wound or miss the deadline and I begin to panic. My peace returns when I realize that Love is in my boat—regardless of the weather—and that is Who drives out my fear. Today, think of someone in your life who is weathering a difficult storm. Reach out to them and remind them that Love is with them in the boat, and that you are, too. [bctt tweet="Peace is not dependent upon a life without crosses. // Olivia Spears" username="blessedisshe__"] listen to today’s devotion