Total Pageviews

Wednesday, February 18, 2026

The Physician Who Calls Us to Rise 2-21-26

 Readings 022126

Friends… Jesus says,
“The healthy don’t need a physician… the sick do.
I came not for the righteous, but for sinners.”

And that’s our story.
We walk this world with wounds we didn’t choose,
breathing in messages that bruise the soul.
The world tells us what to want,
what to chase,
what to worship—
and so often, it is not holy.
Anything that strips dignity,
glorifies greed,
or stirs up hate
cannot come from God.

But Scripture gives us a turning point—
a bridge from sickness to healing.
Remove oppression… feed the hungry… satisfy the afflicted…
and watch what happens next:
light rising in darkness,
gloom lifting like midday,
strength renewed on parched land.
God doesn’t just expose the wound—
He shows the way to wholeness.

And then the Gospel brings it close.
Jesus walks by Levi,
a man written off,
a man stuck in his old story.
One invitation—“Follow me”—
and something in Levi rises.
He stands.
He leaves the old infection behind.
He steps into a new life.

Friends, that is the rhythm for us today:
from sickness to healing,
from darkness to light,
from being stuck to standing up.

Not because we are righteous—
but because the Physician calls our name,
and grace begins the moment
we rise and follow Him.


Prayer

Lord Jesus, Physician of our souls,
call us again into Your healing light.
Lift us from the lies that wound us
and guide us toward mercy and truth.
Renew our strength where we are weary,
raise us where we are stuck,
and help us rise as Levi rose—
ready to follow You into new life.

Amen


When the Heart Finally Stops Pretending 2-20-26

 

Readings 022026

Lent is the season of penance—
a season that asks something real of us.
Ashes on our heads.
No meat on Fridays.
More fasting,
More prayer.
More almsgiving.
More turning our lives—slowly, honestly—back toward God.

Because Lent calls us to a contrite heart.
A heart of deep remorse,
sincere repentance,
a heart broken open by truth
and humbled before the Lord.

But if we’re honest…
how many of us actually do that.
How many of us let Lent drift by
without letting it touch the heart.

Then we hear proclaimed,
“You came to heal the contrite of heart… Lord, have mercy.”
And something in the true believer bows low,
because the heart knows that prayer is true.

A contrite heart—
the heart that finally stops pretending,
the heart that feels its own cracks,
the heart brave enough to say,
“Against you only have I sinned.”
I’ve lived that.
I’ve wandered.
I’ve chased what I wanted
and left God off the list.

But the Lord never stopped calling.
Never stopped waiting.
Never stopped whispering mercy.

And today Jesus reminds us why we fast—
not to perform,
not to impress,
but to find Him again.
How can they mourn, He says,
when the Bridegroom is with them?

That’s the heart of Lent.
We repent not to earn love,
but to return to it.

The Bridegroom is here.
The Bridegroom is calling.
And a contrite heart—
a humbled heart—
is never turned away.

Lord, have mercy.
Heal the heart that finally comes home.

Prayer

Lord Jesus,
turn my heart back to You this Lent.
Give me the courage to stop pretending
and let Your mercy reach my hidden places.
Teach me to fast with love
and to pray with honesty.
Heal the contrite heart that returns to You
and make it Yours again.

Amen


Life That Can Never Be Taken Away 2-19-26

 

Readings 021926 

“What profit is there,” Jesus asks,
“for one to gain the whole world…
yet lose himself.”

I think of a priest I once knew—
holy, humble, hidden.
He’s gone home to his Maker now.
But his whole life was a quiet yes.
A steady yes.
A daily yes.

He never chased applause.
He never sought the spotlight.
He guarded his soul,
his priesthood,
and the Church he loved.

I don’t know his private battles.
I don’t know where temptation pressed in.
But I do know this—
every single day
he picked up his cross
and followed the One
he vowed to always follow.

And Jesus speaks that same call to us:
“If anyone wishes to come after me,
he must deny himself,
take up his cross daily,
and follow me.”

Because the world can hand us everything—
comfort, success, applause—
and still leave our hearts empty.

But lose your life for Christ…
and you discover the only life
that can never be taken away.

Prayer

Lord Jesus,
teach my heart to choose You again today.
Strip away the noise, the hurry, the hunger for lesser things.
Give me the courage to deny myself,
the strength to lift the cross You place in my hands,
and the grace to follow You wherever You lead.
Keep my life anchored in Yours,
so that in losing myself for Your sake,
I may find the only life that endures.
Amen.

Marked First by Grace

Readings 021826 

Today, as a deacon, I’ll stand before God’s people
with a thumb full of ashes…
and it never goes quite the way you hope.

 

Sometimes the ashes are too dry.
Sometimes they clump.
Sometimes there’s barely enough on your fingertips.
Hair gets in the way.
Foreheads are a little too oily.
Nothing is perfect.
Nothing is smooth.

And maybe that’s exactly the point.

Right in the middle of all that awkwardness—
all that humanity—
I speak two small, ancient lines.
Two formulas the Church has whispered for centuries,
each one a doorway into conversion.

“Remember that you are dust,
and to dust you shall return.”

“Repent,
and believe in the Gospel.”

Simple words.
But they set the tone for the whole season.

Because the Lord is still calling:
Even now… return to me with your whole heart.
Not with perfect technique.
Not with flawless ministry.
But with your whole heart.

And we ministers—
we who fumble with ashes and stumble with words—
we hear our own summons too:
Let the ministers of the Lord weep…
Spare, O Lord, your people.

So today I pray for the grace
not to receive God’s mercy in vain—
but to let these ashes mark me first,
turn me first,
convert me first—
so I can walk with God’s people
back to Him with my whole heart.

Prayer

Lord, take these imperfect ashes
and trace Your mercy on my heart.
Take my fumbling hands
and make them instruments of Your call.

Return me to You with my whole heart—
dust and all, weakness and all—
so I may not receive Your grace in vain,
but walk with Your people
back to the One who makes us whole.

Amen