Follow the God Who Is God

Readings 061326 

I look at the landscape of Christian faith today,
and I feel a quiet ache—
because something Jesus Himself called first
is slowly being forgotten.

The first commandment is not a suggestion.
It is the foundation, the center,
the truth that orders every other truth:

“You shall love the Lord your God
with all your heart,
all your mind,
all your soul,
and all your strength.”

Yet in our time,
a subtle shift has taken place—quiet, almost unnoticeable,
but deeply damaging.
People reshape God to fit their agenda,
reshape Jesus Christ to fit their preferences,
reshape worship to fit their entertainment.
And once worship bends toward us,
the center no longer holds.
Because when we reshape God,
we end up with nothing but ourselves.

And then Scripture gives us a striking contrast.
Elisha is plowing his field—twelve yoke of oxen,
a life set, a future planned—
when Elijah walks up and throws his cloak over him.
No speech. No explanation.
Just a call.

And Elisha responds the way a heart responds
when it knows God is speaking.
He doesn’t hesitate.
He leaves the oxen.
He breaks the plow.
He burns the equipment.
He feeds his people one last meal—
and then he follows.
No turning back.
No reshaping the call to fit his comfort.
He follows the God who is God.

And Scripture seals that moment with a simple charge:
“Make good to the Lord all that you vow.”
When God calls, He calls us to fidelity.

That truth came alive for me again
when a funeral director told me recently
that some churches no longer look like churches—
no crosses that lift the eyes,
no altars that lift the soul,
just black‑box theaters with concession stands.
A quiet lament…
but a clear reminder:
when worship loses its center,
we lose our way.

But Jesus gives us the measure of truth
with a clarity the world resists:
“Let your ‘Yes’ mean ‘Yes,’ and your ‘No’ mean ‘No.’
Anything more is from the Evil One.”

Clarity is not harsh.
Clarity is holy.
Clarity is the path of those who choose to follow
the God who is God
with the same courage Elisha showed.

Worship is not about us.
God is our ultimate concern.
Because God is good and we are not.
Nothing in this created world is divine.
Only God is ultimate.
Only God can claim the human heart.

And here is the hope:
Conversion is not only for saints.
It is for everyone—
for you, for your family,
for every wandering heart
seeking its way home.

Prayer

Lord, 

Draw my heart back to You alone.
Let my worship be pure and undivided.
Free me from every false god I create.
Give me the courage

 to follow without fear.
Let my “yes” be true, 

my “no” be clean.
Claim my whole heart, 

for You alone are God. 

Amen

Most Sacred Heart of Jesus

Readings 061226 

Most Sacred Heart of Jesus… have mercy on us.

I remember a truth learned again and again in Spiritual Direction:
we cannot think our way into God.
We must feel our way toward Him,
because God speaks to the heart—
the innermost place where spirit meets Spirit.

For whoever tries to think love
ends up grasping at smoke.
But whoever feels love
grows, expands, softens, becomes.

Scripture tells us plainly:
“God is love.”
And everyone who loves
is born of God
and knows God.
To live in love
is to live in Him.

And Jesus Himself rejoices in this:
“I give praise to You, Father…
for You have hidden these things from the wise
and revealed them to the little ones.”
Not the clever.
Not the calculating.
But the open.
The trusting.
The ones who lead with the heart.

So today,
stand before the Sacred Heart—
burning, wounded, poured out—
and let Him teach you again
that faith is not a puzzle to solve
but a love to receive.

Let His Heart shape your heart.
Let His tenderness become your strength.
Let His mercy become your way of seeing.

For when we feel His love,
we finally know Him—
and we finally become ourselves.

Prayer 

Sacred Heart of Jesus… 

draw me close to Your burning love.
Teach my spirit to feel You 

deeper than I try to understand You.
Soften the tight places 

where I still hold back.
Let Your mercy steady my 

seeing and my choosing.
Hold my small heart

 inside Your great wounded Heart.
Shape me, Lord… 

so I love with the tenderness You give.

Amen

Most Sacred Heart of Jesus … have mercy on us

Most Sacred Heart of Jesus … have mercy on us

Most Sacred Heart of Jesus … have mercy on us

Memorial of St. Barnabas

Readings 061126 

We all try to be a good person.
None of us wakes up planning to break God’s commandments.
But Jesus tells us today that goodness—true godliness—goes deeper than what was written on those tablets of stone.
It reaches into the hidden places of the heart.

Jesus warns us of the depth of the commandments:
“Whoever says to his brother, raqa…”
Raqa—an Aramaic word.
Not a curse. Not a shout.
But something quieter… more corrosive.
The slow drip of contempt.
The quiet dismissal that hollows out love:
“You empty one… you nobody… you’re nothing.”

And right beside that warning, the Church gives us Barnabas.
When Jerusalem heard that something new—something Spirit‑breathed—was happening in Antioch, they sent Barnabas.
Not a watchdog.
Not a critic.
But a son of encouragement—
a man whose heart was already shaped by the Gospel he carried.

And when Barnabas arrived, Scripture says he “saw the grace of God.”
Not the problems.
Not the immaturity.
Not the differences.
He saw grace.
And seeing grace, he rejoiced.
And rejoicing, he encouraged.
And encouraging, he strengthened the Church so deeply that “a great number were added to the Lord.”

This is the righteousness Jesus calls us to—
not more rules,
not more performance,
but more heart.
A heart that sees grace before it sees fault.
A heart that builds up rather than tears down.
A heart that refuses the quiet poison of contempt.

Lord, give us the heart of Barnabas—
a heart that sees grace, rejoices in grace,
and strengthens Your Church with encouragement.

Prayer 

Lord Jesus, 

Deepen my goodness.
Let my heart breathe mercy where contempt would hide.
Teach my tongue to bless, not dismiss.
Give me eyes like Barnabas—to see grace before fault.
Let my joy become encouragement that builds Your Church.
Fill me with Your Spirit, steady and strong in love. 

Amen

Where Grace Meets the Moment

 

Readings 061026 

I’ve been praying with a phrase lately — creative tension.
Fr. Michael Raschko describes it as the space
between our finite self
and our infinite self‑transcendence.
That speaks deeply to me,
because it names the very place
where our daily choices are born.

In my work as a safety engineer,
creative tension is the pull in the moment —
the gap between where we are
and where we hope to be,
and the question of how we get there.
It’s the pull to work safe or unsafe,
to choose what protects or what harms.
It’s not theoretical.
It’s immediate —
right there in the decision.

And in our life of faith,
that same creative tension is alive.
It pulls us toward sinfulness
or toward holiness —
toward the easy wrong
or the faithful right.
It is the interior moment
where grace and temptation
both reach for the heart.

Just as in the workplace,
our environment, our habits, our culture,
and the knowledge we carry in our hearts
shape the choice we make.
The moment of decision is never isolated;
it’s formed by what surrounds us
and what lives within us.

Jesus reminds us,
“Whoever obeys and teaches these commandments
will be called greatest in the Kingdom of heaven.”
He’s teaching that holiness grows
one choice at a time —
in the quiet, unseen moments
where creative tension pulls at the heart
and grace waits to be chosen.

So today,
when that pull rises within us,
may we lean toward grace.
May we let the tension lift us upward —
toward the holy,
toward the true,
toward the heart of Christ
who meets us lovingly
in every moment of choosing.

Prayer 

Lord Jesus,
Draw my heart toward Your light in every moment of choosing.
Steady me with grace in the creative tension of daily life.
Strengthen me when sin pulls and holiness calls.
Shape my mind, my habits, and my desires in Your truth.
Teach me to love and live Your commandments.
Lead me, step by step, into the fullness of Your Kingdom. 

Amen

You Are the Salt. You Are the Light.

Readings 060926

I promised God I would go wherever He leads me.
Most days that promise feels light.
Some days it feels heavy.
And this weekend, it felt like both.

Corpus Christi.
First Communion.
A Baptism.
Preaching.
And our pastor still stranded in Africa.
The work was full, and so was my fatigue.

By Sunday afternoon, I thought I’d rest.
Just a nap.
Just a moment.
But at four o’clock the phone rang:
“Deacon, where are you?
We are waiting for you to bring us the Body of Christ.”

And there it was—
on the Feast of the Body and Blood of the Lord—
my own body tired, my own spirit dull,
my own salt losing its taste.

But Jesus never said,
“Try to be salt… try to be light.”
He said:
“You are the salt… you are the light.”

Salt preserves.
Salt purifies.
Salt awakens flavor.
And when Jesus names us salt,
He is naming our identity—
the deep truth of who we are in Him.

Light does not try to shine.
Light shines because of what it is.
To be united to Christ
is to share in His radiance—
a light that flows from being,
not from effort.

So when the nursing home called,
it wasn’t a summons to duty.
It was a reminder of identity.
A reminder that discipleship is not performance.
It is union with Christ—
a transformed way of being
that lets His life shine through our tired bones.

And so I rose.
Still weary.
Still human.
But carried by grace.
And I brought the Body of Christ
to the Body of Christ.

And in that moment,
the salt found its taste.
The light found its flame.
And Christ, who called me,
was the One who carried me.

Prayer

Lord Jesus,
Let Your life restore my salt and steady my light.
When I am tired, be my strength.
When I am dull, be my flame.
Make my being a quiet witness to Your love.
And let all I do lead hearts back to the Father. Amen.