Wounded, Yet One: A Reflection on Christian Division

Readings 103125

I scroll through my feed—
reflections, prayers, scripture shared—
and then, the sting.
Another post, another “Christian” voice
mocking the Church I love.
Not always cruel—sometimes even comical—
but often misinformed,
and almost always aimed at “Rome.”
As if the Body of Christ could be reduced
to a label or a misunderstanding.

It is disheartening to see
how many “Christians”
limit God’s grace and mercy—
the salvation of Christ—
to the walls of their denomination.
As if the Spirit could be boxed in
by human boundaries.

But I remember what the Catechism teaches:
The Catholic Church holds the fullness of truth,
yes—
but the Spirit of Christ breathes beyond our walls.
Other Christians, too,
carry grace,
bear truth,
walk toward the same Christ.

Still, the division aches.
Like Paul, I feel sorrow for my kindred.
Like Christ, I long to heal on the Sabbath,
even when others watch in criticism or silence.

Unity is not uniformity.
It is communion.
It is humility.
It is the ache of a cracked heart
still glowing with love.

So I post.
Not to argue—
but to witness.
To speak the truth in Christ,
not with pride,
but with peace.

Because His sheep still hear His voice.
And I believe—
even across algorithms and acrimony—
we are still His.

Prayer for Christian Unity

Lord Jesus,
You see the wounds we inflict on Your Body—
the silence, the scorn, the separation.
Yet still You heal.
Still You speak.
Still You call us Your own.

Let Your voice echo louder than our divisions.
Let Your mercy mend what pride has torn.
Make us one, Lord—
not in sameness,
but in love.

May we, like Paul, grieve with hope.
May we, like You, heal with courage.
And may Your Spirit draw all hearts
into the unity You willed
and the communion You gave.

Amen.

In God’s Hands - Today, Tomorrow, and the Day After

Readings 103025

When I was young, things didn’t always go my way.
Plans unraveled. Hopes slipped through my fingers.
And my mother—gentle, steady—would say,
“Put it in God’s hands. Let His will be done.”

I didn’t understand it then.
But now I see:
If God is for us, who can be against us?
What can separate us from Christ’s love?
Not anguish. Not distress. Not famine or fear.
Not even the sword.

Nothing escapes the notice of God.
Not our tears. Not our trials.
Jesus said, “I must continue on my way today, tomorrow, and the following day.”
He walked forward, trusting the Father.

So I ask myself—and I ask you—
If Jesus placed everything in the Father’s hands,
Shouldn’t we do the same?

Let us walk forward.
Today, tomorrow, and the day after.
With trust. With peace.
In God’s hands.

Prayer: In God’s Hands

Lord,
When the path is unclear,
when plans unravel and hopes slip away,
teach us to trust like children.
To open our hands,
to place our hearts in Yours.

You see what we cannot.
You hold what we fear.
If You are for us, who can be against us?

Let nothing—no anguish, no distress—
separate us from Your love.
As Jesus walked forward,
today, tomorrow, and the day after,
so will we.

In Your hands, Lord,
we find peace.
We find purpose.
We find You.

Amen.

"The Narrow Gate and the Spirit’s Strength"

Readings 102925  

Being a Christian is not just saying what we believe—
it’s doing what we say we believe.
Living as if God alone is our breath, our being, our purpose.

And when we falter—when words fail and prayers stumble—
the Spirit groans for us.
Not with eloquence, but with truth.
God searches our hearts,
and the Spirit intercedes,
not for comfort, but for holiness.

So we strive.
Not for applause, but for the narrow gate.
Not for ease, but for endurance.
Because many will try—
but few will be strong enough.

Yet strength is not ours to summon.
It is given.
To those who love God.
To those called by grace.
To those who walk not by might,
but by mercy.

“Strength for the Climb”

Lord God,
You know our weakness,
and still You call us to climb.
Not by might,
but by mercy.
Not by pride,
but by Your Spirit’s groaning grace.

Guide our steps toward the narrow gate.
When we falter, lift us.
When we forget, remind us.
When we grow weary,
be our strength.

May we walk what we believe,
and live as if You alone are our breath.

 Amen.

No Longer Strangers

Readings 102825 

My little country church is more than a building.
It is family.
It is community.
It is shared hope.

Family and community—two expressions of belonging.
One intimate, the other expansive.
Both woven together by love, by purpose, by the sacred call to care for one another.

Family is where grace is practiced in its most personal form—
in quiet forgiveness, in patient listening, in the daily choosing to stay.
Community is that grace multiplied—
extended outward into the world,
into pews and potlucks, into shared tears and shared prayers..

Together, they form the household of God.
A place where every soul finds a place.
Where brokenness is held tenderly.
Where unity is discovered not in sameness,
but in shared journey.

This is the vision we live out in our little church—
a household not just in name, but in spirit.
We strive to make sure no one feels like a stranger.

There’s a quiet ache in being a stranger.
A sense of hovering at the edges—
watching the warmth of belonging from outside the circle.
Many of us know that ache.
We’ve felt it in churches where our presence was questioned,
in conversations where our convictions were dismissed,
in communities where our love was deemed too different to be holy.

But the Word speaks a deeper truth:
You are no longer strangers and sojourners.
Not because we’ve earned a place.
Not because we’ve passed a test.
But because Christ himself has made a way—
drawing near to the margins,
gathering the scattered,
building a household where every soul is welcome.

This household isn’t built on charisma or credentials.
It stands on the witness of prophets and apostles—
those who spoke truth in trembling voices,
who walked dusty roads with open hands.
And at its heart is Christ Jesus, the capstone.
Not the gatekeeper,
but the cornerstone who binds the broken,
bridges the divides,
and blesses the humble.

To be fellow citizens with the holy ones
is not to claim superiority—
it is to embrace shared vulnerability.
To recognize that holiness is not perfection,
but communion.
That the household of God is not a fortress,
but a family.
And that unity is not uniformity,
but the Spirit’s harmony in our diversity.

So we stand—
cracked hearts, glowing with grace.
Hands reaching across divides.
Voices lifted in humble hope.
No longer strangers.
No longer sojourners.
But members of a household
where every story matters,
every scar is honored,
and every soul is held.

Household of Grace

Lord Jesus,
You welcome the weary and gather the scattered.
Make our church a true household of grace—
where no one feels like a stranger,
where brokenness is held,
and every soul finds a place.

Bind us together in humility and hope,
and let Your light shine through our shared journey.

Amen.