He Knows Your Heart

 

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It’s all about us… and yet it’s about something far more than us.
We were created with this wild, holy gift of freedom—
the freedom to follow God,
or to turn away.

And we’ve all felt that turning.
Even the smallest sin nudges the heart off course.
Not enough to shock God—nothing surprises Him—
but enough to surprise us,
enough to remind us how much we need Him.

So we pray,
Create a clean heart in me, O God.
Make me new again.
Make me Yours again.

And into that prayer, Jesus speaks the same invitation
He once gave to the disciples:
“Let us cross to the other side.”
Not because the waters are calm,
but because He chooses to stay in the boat with us.

The storm rises.
Fear rises.
We cry out, “Lord, don’t you care?”
And He stands—
right in the middle of our chaos—
and speaks the word only God can speak:
“Quiet. Be still.”

And suddenly the question becomes the invitation:
Who is this,
this One whom even the wind and the waves obey…
and who still chooses to stay with me?

May we trust Him enough
to cross to the other side.

Prayer

Lord Jesus,
You know my heart better than I do.
Create a clean heart in me, O God—
a heart that trusts,
a heart that listens,
a heart that follows when You say,
“Let us cross to the other side.”

Let my life give witness
to the One whom even wind and sea obey.

Amen.

A Little Catechism for Today

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Jesus teaches in stories.
Small stories.
Earthy stories.
Windows into the heart of God.

The crowds hear what they can carry.
But then—
in the quiet—
He draws His disciples close
and explains everything.

That’s the detail that matters today.

Jesus doesn’t give the Word
and walk away.
He gives the Word
and gives the meaning.
He plants truth in living hearts,
not just written pages.

Some say,
“Scripture alone.”
But this moment shows more.
The Word is spoken…
and then entrusted
to chosen disciples,
a living community,
a Church that remembers,
teaches,
and hands on the faith.

Like the mustard seed—
small, hidden, almost forgettable—
but once planted,
it grows into shelter,
branches wide enough
for the whole world to rest.

That’s Scripture and Tradition.
That’s grace inviting cooperation.
That’s Christ still teaching
through His Body, the Church.

Different languages.
Different emphases.
Same God
drawing us deeper.

So today,
like those disciples in the quiet room,
we pray:

Lord, explain everything.
Open the Word.
Open our hearts.
Lead us deeper into Your glory.

Amen

Do Not Let the Flame Go Out

 

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I realized this morning that I’ve run out of firewood.
Five days without power will do that.
I’ve burned more wood this week
than I have in the last three years.

But we are warm.
We are safe.
And I’ll find more wood.

Because I’m not letting this flame go out.
And even if it does—
I know how to relight it.
It may take patience,
especially if the wood is green or damp,
but with a little breath
and steady hands,
the fire returns.

And Jesus speaks right into that today.
He says a lamp isn’t meant
to be hidden under a basket
or shoved under a bed.
Light is meant to shine.
Fire is meant to burn.
Grace is meant to be seen.

Nothing God plants in us
is meant to stay buried.
Nothing He whispers in the quiet
is meant to stay in the dark.
It all wants to come to light.

Then Jesus adds,
“Take care what you hear…
the measure you use
will be measured back to you…
and more besides.”

So tend the flame.
Guard what feeds it.
Share the light you’ve been given.
Because the more you offer,
the more God pours back into your hands.

And if your fire feels low today—
if the wood is damp,
if the spark is small—
stay patient.
Stay consistent.
Breathe again.

The flame will rise.
And when it does,
it will shine for everyone in the house.

Prayer

Lord you are the light and steady flame,
breathe on the spark within me today.
When my fire burns low,
when the wood is damp, when patience feels thin—
keep me faithful.

Lift what is hidden into Your light,
and let the warmth You give
shine through me for others.

Strengthen my hands,
steady my heart,
and feed the flame of Your grace
until it burns bright again.

Heavenly Father, we ask this through your son Jesus Christ, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, One God forever and ever. Amen.

The House God Builds

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I got up the other morning,
and the house was already alive.
My daughter was fixing breakfast for all the grandkids—
pancakes on the griddle,
little feet running everywhere,
the holy chaos of family life.

 

And then I heard it—
a voice coming from her phone.
Fr. Mike Schmitz.
“Bible in a Year.”

And I just smiled.
Because right there, in the middle of syrup and cereal bowls,
God was building something.
Not a house of cedar.
Not a grand cathedral.
But a heart—
open, listening, receptive.

Today’s readings remind us
that God doesn’t wait for perfect plans
or polished structures.
He doesn’t ask us to build His Kingdom by our strength.
He asks for something far simpler—
a heart that listens,
a soul that makes room,
soil that lets the seed sink deep.

The Kingdom grows
not by force,
not by strategy,
not by our brilliance—
but by grace received,
quietly, humbly,
in the ordinary moments of our days.

God builds His dwelling in us.
And every time we pause,
every time we listen,
every time the Word finds a place to rest—
the Kingdom grows
thirty, sixty, a hundredfold.

Prayer

Lord, make my heart your dwelling.
Let your Word find room in me today.
Plant what you desire, grow what you will,
and build in me the house that lasts forever.
Amen.