The Lord takes delight in his people. // Psalm 149:4 Pulled away from my spot of comfort, I made my way towards the waves lapping at the sand. A little hand tugged me along farther from my camping chair upon which I’d been perched—clean, on the outskirts of the scene, watching my children splash and play from a safe distance. My skirt was still on over my suit, proof of how little I planned to get wet.  But down I plopped, right in the wet and sandy shoreline. And it was good. Toes digging into cool sand as warm rays of sunshine beamed down. My sweet toddler right next to me chattering with a mix of hesitation and approval at this new space. Nearby sat my friend and her daughter, my goddaughter, who happily sucked fists moistened by lake water. An ordinary moment, but I paused, entered in, and delighted in all the beauty and wonder of that slice of time. It’s easy to delight in small children—they truly are so lovable. And this absolute delight in a person’s existence, this is how Jesus loves you. Not because of what you are doing or not doing, but because of who you are. Your very existence. That’s it. He delights in you along with your silliness, your hesitations, your mock confidence, and your insecurities, and He cherishes you in your pain and your brokenness.  You. You are worth delighting in because you exist. Nowhere else in life are you going to hear that without the love of Jesus at the heart of the relationship. Elsewhere more is demanded: skill, added value, a sense of humor, toned-down behavior, a more outgoing personality. We are required by the world to do more, have more, be more. But in the Kingdom of God, you must only bring you and let Him do the rest.

“And as for those who do not welcome you, when you leave that town, shake the dust from your feet in testimony against them." Then they set out and went from village to village proclaiming the good news and curing diseases everywhere. // Luke 9:5-6 A storm was rolling in from the east, paper bags and empty soda cans flying past our feet. The orange flaps of my tent violently whipped back and forth as haunting whistles curled around us. I was camping in the desert of Arizona with my friends, and it was clearly time to go home. Unlike the midwestern storms I grew up with, this one came with thick clouds of hazy dust. You could see it in the distance, and it covered everything in sight.  After a mad dash to break down camp and throw everything in our cars, I made it home safely and utterly filthy. A brown film coated all of my belongings. There were cakes of dust in my ears, between my toes, and in every crevice of my face. It clung to me, and I couldn’t wait to wash it all off.  Today, Jesus encourages us to shake off a different kind of dust, with a sense of urgency and detachment. The kind of dust that looks like rejection, unkind words, and persecution. An eye roll from a classmate or child, a passive-aggressive comment from a parent, or an employer who bullies you. Similar to the dust clouds of a looming storm in the desert, these things can cloud our vision, slow us down, and muddy the Truth.  We so easily forget that the news we have to share is actually so good and beautiful, it cures diseases, heals the brokenhearted, and brings lasting peace and joy! I find it comforting to know that our Lord knew we wouldn’t always be accepted or received, but still invites us to share the joy of the Gospel unapologetically and confidently. He never forgets how good His promises are.  Sister, let’s stop letting dust cling to our feet and cake up where it doesn’t belong. Even through the most ominous storms, Jesus is on our team, and He guarantees that we need nothing more.

He was told, "Your mother and your brothers are standing outside and they wish to see you." He said to them in reply, "My mother and my brothers  are those who hear the word of God and act on it." // Luke 8:20-21 It is Gospel readings like this one that make me grateful to be living out my faith within the support system that is the Catholic Church. I was baptized a Catholic as a baby and—after some confused and straying years—in my early twenties, I made what was at the time a rather pragmatic decision to become a devoted Catholic. Unfortunately, a lack of formation meant that not only did I not have a firm foundation in the teaching of the Catholic Church, I didn’t even know enough to have the understanding that such a thing existed for me to consult as I set about to grow in my faith. I certainly would have read this passage and thought to myself that, clearly, Mary had not remained a virgin after Jesus’ birth, since it says the word “brothers” right there, and also, Oh snap, Jesus just totally dissed His mom in front of all those people! Savage! Thankfully, good friends steered me towards good books and good podcasts and good websites and I came to understand that there is a perfectly good scholarly explanation for these and other perceived inconsistencies.  Read the full account here, but the condensed version is that, historically, languages and cultures don’t necessarily align with our current language and culture. Biblical families recognized the concept of people from whom you were descended, people who were descended from you, and everyone else to whom you’re related. The words they used are translated as “fathers/mothers,” “sons/daughters,” or “brothers/sisters.” Here, the specific people referred to are understood by scholars to be Jesus’ cousins. As much as sassy young me would have enjoyed thinking Jesus was zinging His mom here, the truth is so much cooler. Jesus is highlighting that what is truly special about Mary isn’t that they are blood related, it’s that she is a faithful Christian. (Read more here.) The fact is that Jesus is holding up Mary for us as an example to emulate. So how can we, today, seek to hear the word of God and act on it, as she did? 

Those that sow in tears shall reap rejoicing. // Psalm 126:5  “Ricky’s gone,” were her first words when I walked into the office that Monday morning. My hand immediately went to my mouth in shock as my coworker erupted in sobs. Swallowing my questions, I moved closer to her and opened my arms slightly to receive her grief. She turned to face me and then quickly welcomed the comforting refuge of my embrace.   I had known for a while that my coworker’s beloved cat, Ricky, wasn’t doing well. He had been refusing food and was, overall, behaving unlike himself. Every morning, I would ask for an update on his condition. In the past few days, there had been some promising improvements, and it appeared that Ricky might be getting better. But over the weekend, he had taken a turn for the worse, resulting in an emergency vet visit and gut-wrenching news. Sadly, by the end of the afternoon, his owners were on their way home with empty arms and shattered hearts.    As a fairly new pet owner, I can’t imagine the pain of a dear furry friend’s death. But my tears have irrigated the field of losing a loved one many times, and it was only in the spiritual fruits I harvested from a nourished life of discipleship that my mourning turned into joy (see Psalm 30:11).    Looking back at that tender exchange with my coworker, I can say with certainty that I wasn’t just a shoulder to cry on. I had shown her my concern leading up to this moment, and she chose to sow her tears in the soil of my heart, where the seeds of compassion and Christ’s love were plentiful.   Sister, when we are planted firmly in the Lord and take time to receive His love, our lives become the pure fields that scatter the radiance of His presence to everyone we meet. As you sit with this image in prayer today, ask Jesus to beautify the soil of your heart, so that, ripe with His love, you may testify to His great power working in you and welcome others to reap with joy the copious fruits of the harvest. 

The Lord is near to all who call upon Him. // Psalm 145:18 While walking in mindless laps up and down my driveway, I noticed that the dreary weather was an outward reflection of my heart. It was barely the third week of Lent, and it was already the most “Lenty” Lent I had yet experienced. My heart suffered as I experienced family frustrations, awful weather conditions which left a literal trail of obstacles, and a loved one taking on the painful cross of mental health issues. No matter how much effort I put into prayer, it seemed like nothing was working. I wrestled back and forth with God throughout these sufferings: Are my prayers not good enough for You? Do you not see what’s happening? Do you even care, God?  My emotional state had put a huge wedge in my relationship with the Lord. He seemed to be missing. In today’s Responsorial Psalm, we read, “The Lord is near to all who call upon Him” (Psalm 145:18).  My prayers weren’t answered right away, but throughout the weeks, I began to see glimpses of the Resurrection through everyday goodness. Through each bit of goodness, He began to reveal to my heart that He does listen and is near.  Friend, can I encourage you to pause throughout the day and notice how the Lord is active in your life? What bits of goodness is He using to speak to your heart? It can be as simple as pretty flowers on the side of the road. A new song to sing along to. A compliment from a stranger.  Sister, I know how painful the waiting period can be. Even now, more than five months after Lent, I can still find myself asking the same questions.  The Lord desires to reveal His love to you through the big and the ordinary. He is near, and more attentive to our hearts than we can imagine. Heavenly Father, we love You and we praise You. Lord, help us to know that You listen. Help us to be attentive to the ways that You’re revealing Your love to us right now. Amen. 

“But as for the seed that fell on rich soil, they are the ones who, when they have heard the word, embrace it with a generous and good heart, and bear fruit through perseverance.” // Luke 8:15 My mom has a missionary group based in the US which serves the people of her hometown and neighboring villages in the south of the Dominican Republic. Every so often she makes an announcement at our home parish requesting donations. On this particular day, after making her appeal, she walked to the back of the church and was greeted by a familiar face. His frail hands and lean body housed a strong spirit and a good, generous heart. Arcadio quietly got her attention and extended his hand to her, slipping a folded up paper into my mother’s hand. It was a twenty-dollar bill. My mom insisted he take back the donation since she knew his financial situation was not good. But he also insisted. He challenged my mom’s thinking—enough that she still has not forgotten that moment from almost ten years ago. He reasoned with her, “It is not much, but I know it can help someone who is more in need than me. Please take it.” My mom was humbled by his generosity and simplicity.  She took his offering and on that day was inspired to begin a new aspect of the mission called in Spanish, “De Pobre a Pobre”—meaning, from one poor person to another. From the money collected from people like Arcadio, the missionaries would be able to personally bless those they would meet on the streets during their evangelization walks who were in obvious financial need. These would come to include families in need of money for groceries, parents needing to buy wheelchairs for their children, elderly lacking money to buy their medicine, the list still goes on. All of this because of one man’s good and generous heart. Arcadio passed away last year, yet I still think of him—a man small in stature and body mass, weakened by illness and old age, whose face was illuminated by the greatness of his heart. May we be like Arcadio and allow our souls to not only hear the word of God but to “embrace it with a generous and good heart” (Luke 8:15), that we may bear abundant fruit. 

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

He said to him, “Follow me.” And he got up and followed him. // Matthew 9:10 I sat at my best friends’ dining room table on Easter Sunday, crying my eyes out for what felt like the millionth time. I wondered in frustration and not-quite-shame how many friendly gatherings I had ruined with weeping in the past few years. My husband’s sudden and untimely death had thrown me into a season of uncertainty the likes of which I could never have imagined. I clung to each fragile shred of my identity, but had no idea where I should go next. Many times I longed for someone to just tell me what to do, but I had to learn to be still, seek the Lord, and discern on my own. After praying for clarity for many months, the Lord finally showed me where He wanted me to go—it was time to uproot my city life and move to my small hometown. And I did not want to obey. But my life is here! I have commitments! I’ve made promises! I argued in my prayer. I wrestled with the Lord as I have so many other times when the tide of His will crashes against the sea walls I’ve built around my heart.  Mere months into life in our new home, I can already begin to see why God asked me to step away. He needed me to lean more heavily on Him. He wanted me to be able to see my vocation more clearly, to see my kids’ needs more clearly. He wanted all of me, as a lover desires all of his beloved. He wants me whole and holy, prepared to join Him in glory for all eternity. God doesn’t want the Sunday morning part of you, dear one. God doesn’t want a few moments of your morning, or a bowed head before your meal. He wants all of you. He wants to engulf you with the ocean of His love, and His transforming work in your life is only limited by the extent of your fiat. Let Him in. Get up and leave whatever it is that’s keeping you from full surrender. Follow Him.

Majesty and glory are his work, and his justice endures forever. He has won renown for his wondrous deeds; gracious and merciful is the LORD. // Psalm 111:3-4 It is such a gift to teach the Catholic Faith to young souls and see the moments of joy in their faces when they discover the treasures of their faith. Early this spring, we jumped into learning more about the last Sacrament of Initiation, the Eucharist. While I still had their attention, I began teaching the lesson and sharing about how much I love the Eucharist. I was ready to move on to the next thing, following the lesson plan I had so carefully created, when one of my students led me to bend my plan, saying, “Wow, Jesus is really cool. He still comes to us even though we keep sinning and don’t really deserve Him.”  I stopped in my tracks. What a precious moment! This child already saw the gift of Himself that Jesus offers in the Eucharist: Christ’s mercy and generosity, and in a simple way, the Majesty of our God. To be honest with you, I forget this so often.  Week after week, I receive the Lord in the Eucharist and fail to see the gift that He is to me, losing sight of His mercy. Yet, I come time and time again hoping that my awe would be renewed. I desire to see the majesty and glory of His work, but so often look right past it.  My student’s simple but deep comment was something I needed to remember His glory—to see it present even in my classroom, especially in a moment that required me to drop my hold on my comfortable cycle of routine and structure. I usually struggle to find joy in these new moments of flexibility, but it is in them that, without fail, the Lord reveals Himself again.  Sister, where is the Lord revealing His majesty in the everyday moments? Maybe it’s the gorgeous sunrise, the sound of a child’s laughter, a heartwarming conversation with a friend, or the chance to be flexible. I invite you to reflect on the ways He is showing His glory to you! Let the Lord overwhelm you today. 

Of mercy and judgment I will sing; to you, O LORD, I will sing praise. I will persevere in the way of integrity; when will you come to me? I will walk with blameless heart, within my house. // Psalm 102:1-3a My heart stopped when I heard Sister say, “There is nothing as beautiful as being single-hearted.” That night when I attended a talk on beauty at the Nashville Dominican Motherhouse, I expected the general Thomistic analysis of beauty and was quite excited to be encouraged by a talk of that sort. But what I did not expect was to encounter hope for beauty in my own heart.  The last year had been nothing short of purifying. It had felt as if all of my weaknesses and failures had been placed under a magnifying glass, and what I found under that exposure was that my heart stood divided. I had a sincere love for God but also a sincere attachment to sin and to self. My heart was in fact not single-hearted and unlike today’s Psalm, I was not walking with a “blameless heart”’ (Psalm 101:3). That night I went home wondering what sort of remedy would allow me to live single-heartedly. Over time, what I have come to find is that in order to live with a pure heart I desperately need to encounter His own blameless, beautiful, pure, and single-hearted Heart.  Sister, our messy and often divided hearts are longing to be purified into hearts that will walk blamelessly and fearlessly towards one Love and one Love only: Jesus Christ. May we, with confident and hopeful hearts, turn to the Shepherd to lead and guide us “in the way of integrity” to walk “with a blameless heart” (Psalm 101:2-2) and begin to shine with a hint of the beauty of which He has created us from all time.

This is good and pleasing to God our savior, who wills everyone to be saved and to come to knowledge of the truth. // 1 Timothy 2:3-4 “But why did he shoot that man?” my son asked, aghast, at the end of the film. “He could have repented!” The words of my child filled me with wonder at his faith. For the man in the film had been a cruel, heartless Nazi after the “good guy.” He seemed beyond redemption. But my son reminded me that we should have hope for everyone.  I come from generations of Catholics, those raised in the Faith who raised their children in the Faith. But also in my extended family are many who have cast aside their Catholic upbringing. I have friends who were close to God in their youth and now live separated from His grace. And the society we live in promotes lifestyles and choices that are contrary to what is good and true.  Saint Paul tells us in today’s First Reading to offer “supplications, prayers, petitions, and thanksgivings” for “everyone” (1 Timothy 2:1). He does not just say for those who are faithful and close to God. He does not say to pray once and then give up. He tells us that God “wills everyone to be saved” and that Jesus “gave himself as ransom for all” (1 Timothy 2:6). God desires to be united fully with all of us, no matter how little hope there seems to be for conversion.  Sister, it can be fatiguing to pray for the conversion of the same people day after day, people for whom we want the ultimate good. And it often feels like our prayers and efforts are not doing anything to bring about a change in our secular society. But we do not know the measure of the grace God pours out on others. We can never know in this life the full effect of our prayers. We can only know that it is good and pleasing to God for us to pray for others, to come to Him with faith on their behalf like the centurion in today’s Gospel and trust that they will be healed (see Luke 7:1-10).

For if we live, we live for the Lord, and if we die, we die for the Lord; so then, whether we live or die, we are the Lord's. // Romans 14:8 I can be a very opinionated person with very strong preferences. This made discerning my vocation rather interesting. I had numerous desires in my heart, dreams for the future, and plans that I had made. When I discerned into religious life and moved into a convent, certain things lived and many things died. When I discerned out of religious life after six years, certain things lived and many things died. The cycle of life, suffering, death, and the Resurrection are ongoing in the path to holiness. Each cycle leads to deeper purification and union with the Trinity.     As I have walked alongside Christ on this journey towards union with Him in Heaven, Jesus has been teaching me about detachment. I remain attached to Him, walking arm in arm, in prayer and the Sacraments. Jesus is teaching me how to be detached from my preferences, surrendering my heart to His perfect will. Jesus is uniting my heart to His Sacred Heart—teaching my heart to be attentive, ready, and receptive. I remain attentive to Him, listening in prayer and keeping my eyes open for ways to serve in His Kingdom. I strive to be ready with quick obedience to the Father’s will. And I desire for my heart to be receptive to receive both everything and nothing. I have experienced great peace because there is no fear when we know that we are the Lord’s.  Sister, this is the truth that we can rest in today. The Lord sees us, knows us, and desires our good. Today may be a day of life, suffering, death, or the Resurrection. Wherever you are, whatever you are experiencing, may you experience an abundance of peace because we are the Lord's.

"Why do you call me, 'Lord, Lord,' but not do what I command? I will show you what someone is like who comes to me, listens to my words, and acts on them. That one is like a man building a house, who dug deeply and laid the foundation on rock; when the flood came, the river burst against that house but could not shake it because it had been well built.” // Luke 6:46-48 “You could try IVF.” I stared at my friend, unsure of how to respond. “I know, you’re Catholic,” she continued. “But you can just go to Confession. If you want a baby, this might be the only way.” She was right. I knew that. I’d thought the same thing myself. My biological clock was about to strike midnight, and my hopes of becoming a mother were quickly dying. But I also knew IVF was not an option for me. I wanted a baby. But I wanted Jesus more. And doing what I believed to be wrong with the presumption that I could just go to Confession afterwards, would be betraying Him twice over. “No,” I replied, finding my voice. “If God wants me to be a mom, I’ll be a mom. And if not, He has something better for me.” That no to IVF was the hardest no I’d ever uttered. It required more than knowledge of Church teaching.* It required that I be like the Biblical homebuilder who “dug deeply and laid the foundation on rock” (Luke 6:48).  Digging deeply was what I had been doing for years. It’s what I had been doing as I strove to know my Faith, do God’s will, and walk daily with Him. I had been maturing as a disciple, learning to do the right thing, even when it felt impossibly hard.   Someday, God will call you, too, to do something that feels impossibly hard. Your ability to do as He asks will be a grace. But it also will be a grace built upon a hundred smaller yeses and nos. It will be a grace given not in an instant, but slowly, as you do the long, hard work of growing in virtue and building a relationship with Him. Start doing the work now. Don’t wait. If you want God, and not just the gifts He gives, dig deeply. Build your life day by day on the Rock. Then, when the storm comes, not only will your faith survive, but after it passes, you will witness a dawn whose glory is beyond your imagining. *The Catholic Church understands that infertility is a great cross and supports the use of NaPro Technology to treat the underlying causes of infertility. To learn more about NaPro visit the Pope Paul VI Institute. For more on why the Church condemns the use of IVF, see this article from the USCCB. 

You will show me the path to life, fullness of joys in your presence, the delights at your right hand forever. // Psalm 16:11 She looked at me with love and with tears in our eyes, she shared a tender congratulations for all the work I accomplished. I hadn’t achieved anything external, but rather the internal accomplishment of deep inner work resulting in peace and freedom I hadn’t known was possible for my heart to feel.  She had walked with me. Each week we had met, and with her mentorship, step by step, I moved through some of the rawest and deepest pain. She supported me, challenged me, and shared with me parts of her own story that gave me hope that I, too, could experience the joy she now lived. I couldn’t have done it alone. I needed her presence. I needed this support from my beloved mentor and friend who had become another mother to me.  Today on the Feast of Our Lady of Sorrows, we honor Mary, our Blessed Mother, who is a woman who knows suffering well. She is with us in our darkest hour and, in Jesus, she can mentor us, challenge us, and guide us to the heart of the Father, our source of all healing and love. Our crosses do not have to end in fruitless pain. We can be brought into new life, sometimes in ways that may surprise us.   Perhaps our own mothers, or other spiritual mothers have been there for us in dark and painful moments along our journey. But, even if not, today let us remember our Mother Mary, who with Jesus, leads us along the path of life, bringing us to the fullness of joys with God forever (see Psalm 16:11).

"We have sinned in complaining against the LORD and you. Pray the LORD to take the serpents from us." // Numbers 21:7 It all happened at once. I stepped through the door as the Sister in front of me turned, pointed, and yelled, “SNAKE!” I did not hesitate. I took a flying leap with my habit streaming behind me to the middle of the garage, froze in fear, and yelled, “Kill it, kill it, kill it . . . ” Our dialogue preceded thusly: Sister #1: We don’t need to kill it. Sister #2: Sister, I think it’s a rattlesnake! Sister #1: I don’t hear a rattle . . .  Sister #2 grabs a shovel and pushes the button for the garage door opener. Snake: ::RATTLE:: Sister #1: Kill it, kill it, kill it! It was terrifyingly comedic and Sister #2, who prevailed over the snake, swiftly relieving it of its head, felt triumphantly Marian for some time afterward! If it’s not already abundantly clear, I hate snakes with a passion not unlike that of Indiana Jones! I identify readily with the Israelites’ cry for Moses to, “Pray the Lord take the serpents from us!” (Numbers 21:7). The way they curl in on themselves and hide in dark corners, just waiting to strike when you least expect it, there is indeed something sinister there. It is no wonder that the remedy the Lord prescribed was to mount a serpent on a pole (see Numbers 21:8). Make it known, show it off, do not let it be hidden. Sister, today we celebrate the feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross, the triumph of light over darkness, life over death, grace over sin. Today we gaze on the Lord stretched out before us to save us from the serpents of sin that curl in the hidden places of our hearts. What serpents lie in your heart that need to be mounted on a pole today, consumed in the light of grace, and crushed by ignominious glory of the cross? My prayer for you today is that the Lord will take the serpents from your heart. Looking upon the Cross today, I pray you live, “remembering that God is [your] rock, and the Most High God [your] redeemer”(Psalm 78:35).

Think of what is above, not of what is on earth. // Colossians 3:2 We get so fixated on the things of this world—materialism, relationships, suffering, hatred, racism, and politics—that we forget to “think of what is above, not of what is on earth” (Colossians 3:2). So when I read the Beatitudes in today’s Gospel (see Luke 6:20-26), I am quickly reminded where my gaze needs to be. “Blessed are the poor” (Luke 6:20). I see the evident poverty in our homeless brothers and sisters with their addictions, tent cities, and isolation, which is unbearable to behold. The poverty that also turns my gaze to heaven is the spiritual poverty many students at my college campus think they hide so well. God desires us to help reveal the “kingdom of heaven” to all we encounter in physical or spiritual scarcity. “Blessed are you who are hungry” (Luke 6:21). Among temptations to consumerism, sex, money, power, and pride, I strive to be satisfied by God’s Word and the Body and Blood of Christ. Oh, His Word and how it speaks to the deep aching of my heart. And oh, what a feast the Eucharist is that satisfies my deepest hunger.  “Blessed are you who weep” (Luke 6:21). How many of us hold back our tears? Tears that could bring relief and healing, knowing the Lord is ever near, as near as the tear clinging to your cheek? Weep for this world, weep in your grief, and release your hidden pain. Laughter through tears awaits you. “Blessed are you when people hate you, and when they exclude and insult you” (Luke 6:22). The fear of missing out is valid, and scrolling online to see what you were excluded from hurts. Angry comments on something you posted about the Truth of our Faith incite hatred and breed rage. You are not alone; our “ancestors treated the prophets in the same way” (Luke 6:23). If we truly have our eyes secure on the things of heaven and not of this world, we will “rejoice and leap for joy” facing earthly tribulations. They are temporary. “Behold, your reward will be great in heaven” (Luke 6:23).

See to it that no one captivate you with an empty, seductive philosophy according to the tradition of men, according to the elemental powers of the world, and not according to Christ. // Colossians 2:8 It was a hotly debated topic. I knew the arguments for and against it—countless people sang its praises, while others warned of potential dangers to the soul. Fear-mongers, I mused. Curiosity tugged at me, so I decided to test the waters for myself. I was a strong Catholic, I reasoned; I was mature enough in my faith that I’d be unaffected by any alleged pitfalls or temptations. I would judge the merits based on my own experience. As they say, pride goeth before a fall. My arrogance in the face of spiritual danger did not exempt me from said danger. Instead, it flung open the door of my soul in invitation to the enemy. What followed was a season of darkness and anxiety that divided my soul. Externally I still appeared confident and lighthearted, but internally, I was plagued with caustic self-reliance and a painful distance from God. Still, I clung fiercely to the “empty, seductive philosophy” that had captivated me (Colossians 2:8). I dismissed any evidence that didn’t fit the narrative I’d bought into, and justified away my quiet whisperings of conscience to block out the truth. It took an experience of deliverance that I couldn’t ignore for me to finally concede to the truth. For so long, I’d been terrified to admit I was wrong and detach from my seductive philosophy. Yet when I finally let go, I felt profound relief. Surrendering my idol brought more freedom, humility, healing, and peace than I knew possible.  What worldly practices, enticements, or relationships are currently taking up more room in your heart than God? The tighter your hold on these things, the less you’ll be able to receive His lasting healing and freedom for you. You might be clinging to them out of fear; you might feel defensive at the mere thought of letting go. Today, share those feelings and fears with your Loving Lord. Give Him permission to influence your thoughts and desires—and even to gently correct you for the safety of your soul. The joy and peace you’ll find in His Truth is worth infinitely more.