Our Journey of Faith: A Walk with God - When Jesus Enters the House

readings/090325 

There’s a rhythm to my evenings.
The sun begins to set, and I find myself standing in the kitchen, staring at the pantry.
No plan. No recipe. Just a quiet question: What can I make with what I have?

And more often than not, I reach for one of two things —ground beef or chicken.Simple, flexible, enough.
I chop onions, peppers, and celery. Always stir in some garlic. Maybe some cayenne if I want it spicy .
And as the skillet sizzles, something shifts.
The house begins to smell like comfort.
Like care.
Like presence.

It’s not fancy.
But it’s love—served warm.

Today’s Gospel begins in a kitchen, too.
Jesus enters Simon’s house.
No crowd. No sermon.
Just a woman in bed with fever.
And what does He do?

He comes close.
He stands beside her.
He rebukes the fever.
She rises.
She serves.

There’s no spectacle.
Just healing.
Just grace.

And I wonder—how many times has Jesus entered my house?
Not with thunder, but with quiet mercy.
Not with answers, but with presence.

St. Paul writes to the Colossians:

“We give thanks… for your faith and the love you have for all the holy ones.”

Faith and love—rooted in hope.
Hope that’s not vague or distant,
but reserved for you in heaven.
Hope that bears fruit in the ordinary.

This is the rhythm of discipleship:
Jesus draws near.
We are healed.
We rise.
We serve.

And then—like Jesus—we seek solitude.
We return to the quiet.
To prayer.
To purpose.

If we look we can find God in all things.
Even in the skillet.
Even in the fever.
Even in the moment we didn’t plan for.

So today, I invite you to reflect:
Where is Jesus entering your house?
What fever—physical, emotional, spiritual—needs His touch?
Where are you being invited to rise and serve?

And when the daybreak comes,
when the crowds press in,
when the mission feels heavy—
may you remember the rhythm.

He comes close.
He heals.
You rise.
You serve.

And in the quiet,
He reminds you:
This is why I was sent.

Amen.

When Jesus Enters the House

Lord Jesus,
You come quietly, not with thunder—
but with warmth, with mercy, with love.

You enter the places we least expect:
  You stand beside us.
You touch what aches.
You call us to rise.

Let Your presence fill our homes,
our hearts, our ordinary moments.
Make our lives a table of welcome,
a rhythm of healing and service.

When You enter, something good happens.
So come, Lord Jesus.
Come close.
Amen.