God Speaks Through Our Weakness

 Readings 080126 

Memorial of Saint Alphonsus Liguori,  Bishop and Doctor of the Church

I’ve been told, more than once, 

I should preach from the heart,

no notes,

just speak.

But for me… that can be hard.

My thoughts come clear,

yet the words don’t always follow.

My tongue trips,

my lips stumble,

and what I want to say doesn’t always come out right.

So I write it down —

not because my heart is weak,

but because my heart longs to be understood.

St. Alphonsus Liguori taught 

a sermon should be so simple

that even the poorest could grasp it.

That’s the clarity I pray for.

And before I speak—every time—

I ask the Holy Spirit:

“Fill me.

Steady my tongue.

Guide my lips.

Let simple passion carry Your message

to the hearts of those who hear.”

Today we remember John the Baptist,

a man who spoke truth so clearly

that even a king trembled.

Jeremiah reminds us,

“It was the Lord who sent me to speak.”

John lived that—

even when it cost him everything.

Blessed are the persecuted, Jesus says,

for theirs is the Kingdom.

So preach with notes or without them.

Preach with words or with example.

Whether your message flows smoothly

or stumbles on the way out,

what matters is this:

that you speak the truth God gives—

with humility,

with courage,

and with love.

Prayer

Lord Jesus, 

steady my tongue and calm my heart.

Let Your Spirit shape every word I speak.

Make my message simple, clear, 

and full of love.

Give me courage 

when truth is costly.

And let all I say 

lead others closer to You.

Amen

Perhaps They Will Listen and Turn Back

Readings 073126 

He wanted to be a hero—  

a soldier admired by men,  

a figure women noticed,  

a life built on glory and applause.  

But the battlefield broke him.  

Dreams scattered like dust in the wind.  

Still, the hunger for greatness burned,  

he devoured every tale of knights and honor  

until even those stories fell silent.  

Then grace slipped in quietly—  

a book about the saints,  

heroes of a different kind,  

fighters for the Kingdom of Heaven.  

And, Ignatius turned his gaze  

from the crown of men  

to the crown of Christ.  

But the path was hard.  

Older now, slower to learn,  

he turned to prayer,  

to contemplation,  

to the whisper of God  

in the quiet of his heart.  

He shared what he found—  

the spiritual exercises—  

teaching others to listen  

for the truth that speaks within.  

No one expected  

this broken soldier  

to become a saint,  

a champion of heaven.  

But God delights  

in raising up the unlikely.  

And in Nazareth,  

they said of Jesus,  

“Isn’t he the carpenter’s son?  

Isn’t his mother Mary?”  

They could not see  

that divine power hides  

in ordinary lives.  

Jesus said,  

“A prophet is not without honor 

except in his native place

and in his own house.”  

So today—  

perhaps we will listen,  

perhaps we will turn back.  

And let grace find us  

in our wounds,  

in our disappointments,  

in the places others overlook.  

Lives shaped  

not by glory,  

not by applause,  

but by surrender—  

and by love.  

Prayer 

Lord Jesus, 

Open our hearts 

to Your quiet truth.  

Turn us back from every path 

that dims Your light.  

Let grace rise 

in the places we hide.  

Shape our desires 

toward surrender and love.  

Make us faithful 

to Your whisper today.

Amen  

St. Ignatius of Loyola, pray for us.