August 6, 2026 // Feast of the Transfiguration of the Lord Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Second Reading: 2 Peter 1:16-19 Reflect on the Word //  This is all to celebrate one man. The overwhelming fact brought tears to my eyes as I gazed at the throng of pilgrims in Ford Field for the beatification of Solanus Casey. Some seventy thousand people had descended on Detroit to celebrate this quiet, seemingly insignificant friar. I kept thinking, And this is only a glimmer of the glory that waits for each one of us in Heaven.  Today’s feast reveals the Lord’s majesty. But if I’m honest, this vision of the Son of Man (see Daniel 7:13) leaves me feeling outcast. I love the warm and accessible Jesus, our Good Shepherd and Healer. But the Son of God Who reigns at the right hand of the Father? Surely there can be no place for me in that glory. This is when our love for the Lord demands that we raise our eyes and look at Him. We worship a God Who wants us to be “eyewitnesses of His majesty” (2 Peter 1:16). He longs for true friendship with us, which means He wants us to know Him, and He eagerly waits for the day when “we shall see Him as He is” (1 John 3:2). Even now, He gives us glimpses, flashes of glory that break in on our ordinary lives and keep us striving toward all that awaits us.  For we will not merely gaze upon His glory for eternity. No, He created us to share in it. When we finally see Him, we have His promise that we will be swept up into His glory. Gazing on Him face to face, “we shall be like Him” (1 John 3:2). Thus Saint Peter can confidently assure us that “we possess the prophetic message that is altogether reliable” (2 Peter 1:19).  For our part, we are called to watch and “be attentive” (2 Peter 1:19) to the flashes of glory in our daily lives that are no mere coincidence, but the loving invitation of our God to know Him better. We have no need to be afraid of His glory, for it is our promise and our hope.  Relate to the Lord // Meditate on God’s glory today. Spend some time thinking about what Heaven will be like with Him.

July 2, 2026  // Thursday of the Thirteenth Week in Ordinary Time Read the Word // Open your Bible to today’s Gospel: Matthew 9:1-8  Reflect on the Word //  The kids’ bedroom door closes behind me with a soft “click,” and I let out a long sigh. The boys are asleep at last, and now it’s time for all the day’s mistakes to begin clamoring for my attention.  The nightly self-accusations are wearyingly similar: I lost my temper too many times to count.  I said unkind things I can’t take back.  I whined and complained instead of thanking God for His countless blessings.   There are so many wrongs I can’t right, and some nights the weight of my failings presses down so heavily, I feel spiritually paralyzed.  Then I hear Jesus’ words to the paralytic in today’s Gospel: “Courage, child, your sins are forgiven” (Matthew 9:2).  I know God’s mercy is infinite, an “abyss” as He described it to Saint Faustina (Diary 1777). Yet somehow, deep down, I’m always afraid that I will eventually run out of chances. My own spiritual paralysis terrifies me, and instead of throwing myself on His mercy, I beat myself up: I should be better by now; I should have conquered these habits.  But here, laid out on my stretcher and unable to move, I see the Lord gazing down at me with love. And I know that I do not have to be afraid.  Courage. We have only to look at Him, not at ourselves. We are helpless, laid low by our sins, but He “has authority on earth to forgive sins” (Matthew 9:6). The only thing that keeps Him from working miracles in and through us is our fear—the fear that says, God can’t possibly keep forgiving me . . . He must be so disappointed in me. We can have complete confidence in this: Jesus is not afraid of our sin. He’s not scandalized by our weaknesses and daily failings. He only wants us to let Him come close and lift us to our feet. And He will happily do so again and again and again, as long as we do not lose courage—the courage that comes from trust in Him.  Relate to the Lord // Spend a moment in imaginative prayer as the paralytic on the mat. Look up at Jesus and ask Him for what you need.