When you want to stay, and God sends you.

We know those seasons when life settles into a gentle rhythm. The early, unhurried morning; the familiar commute with the same sea of stranger-faces; the workday where nothing is on fire; even a season when prayer feels easy and God feels close. There’s a quiet comfort in that routine, almost like being on a little mountain where the view is familiar and the air is calm.

In today’s Gospel, Peter has his own version of that moment. He sees Jesus shining like the sun, hears the Father’s voice, watches Moses and Elijah appear in glory, and his instinct is to stay put: “Lord, it is good that we are here… I will make three tents.” He reaches for permanence, for a way to hold onto the moment and make it last. You and I know that impulse well—whether it’s a beautiful family moment we wish would never end, or a comfortable routine we don’t want disrupted.

But before Peter can finish his sentence, a bright cloud overshadows them and the Father speaks: “This is my beloved Son… listen to him.” Not “build for him,” not “prove yourself to him,” but “listen to him.” The first call is not to perform, but to pay attention.

Grace in a performance-driven Lent

In the second reading, Paul reminds Timothy—and us—that God “has saved us and called us to a holy life, not according to our works but according to his own purpose and grace.” That line cuts straight across a lot of the pressure we feel around Lent.

Lent can easily become a spiritual performance review. We set resolutions, compare our fasting or prayer habits to others, and listen to louder, more intense voices online that seem to say, “If you’re not doing as much as I am, you’re not serious.” Sometimes those voices are explicitly religious; sometimes they’re just the background hum of productivity culture, baptized in holy water.

But Paul says the opposite: it begins in grace, not in our performance. God’s call on your life is rooted in his purpose and his love, not in how dramatically you can give up coffee or how many holy hours you can log this month. The point of Lent is not to impress God; it’s to make space for God to impress his love and mercy more deeply into us.

That doesn’t mean we coast. Lent is “self-denial ordered toward love”—we willingly stretch, fast, and give, not because God keeps score, but because love wants to grow. We want to move beyond the bare minimum, beyond autopilot, and let God shape us into people who love more freely.

The danger is when that holy desire to “do more” quietly slides into a fear of not doing enough, of not being enough. When we start playing the comparison game—measuring our prayer life, our sacrifices, our spiritual “intensity” against what we see others posting—we can quickly forget that the foundation is grace. Sometimes we may just want a calm, private experience with God, away from the public eye, and that’s okay. Holiness doesn’t need a platform.

The temptation to pitch tents

Peter’s idea on the mountain is sincere. He’s not trying to escape responsibility; he’s just overwhelmed by a beautiful, holy moment and wants to hold onto it. You and I know that feeling. A retreat that changed us. A prayer time when Scripture suddenly came alive. A season when we felt close to God and everything seemed to flow. “Lord, it is good that we are here. Can we just stay like this?”

But the Father interrupts with a different invitation: “Listen to him.” And what does Jesus say afterward? He doesn’t say, “Stay.” He says, “Rise, and do not be afraid,” and then leads them back down the mountain.

In other words: the experience on the mountain is real, but it’s not the destination. It’s a gift meant to strengthen them for the journey ahead, a glimpse of glory that will carry them through the coming valley of the cross. The same Jesus who shines in light will soon sweat blood in Gethsemane.

The Little Flower Carmelite reflection captures this beautifully: God is both Place and Journey, the One who meets us on the holy mountain and the One who keeps calling us on when we would rather camp and pitch tents. God is not being cruel when he doesn’t let us stay in the “perfect” moment. He is inviting us into a deeper, more costly love.

Listening more than understanding

If you’re reading this on your phone late at night, or sipping coffee between notifications, it’s not news to you that we live in a loud time. Wars and conflicts across the globe, angry voices on every platform, headlines that pull our attention from one crisis to the next. It can feel like the world is on fire most days, and our instinct is either to doomscroll or to shut down and block it all out.

In that noise, “listening” can sound like a luxury. But the Father’s words on the mountain are surprisingly simple and practical: “Listen to him.” Not “understand everything,” not “solve all the problems,” but listen. Take his words seriously. Let them land in your actual life.

Abram in the first reading does exactly that. God tells him, “Go from your country and your kindred… to the land that I will show you.” No map, no step-by-step plan, just a promise: “I will bless you… and you will be a blessing.” Abram doesn’t understand how it will all work out, but he listens and goes.

In Lent, listening often comes before understanding. We may not fully grasp why God is nudging us to forgive that person, to unplug a bit from our screens, to give more generously, to show up at Mass again. We may not see how our little acts of self-denial matter in a world on fire. But the pattern of Scripture is clear: God speaks, we listen, we step, and understanding often comes later.

Listening in this sense is an act of trust: “I don’t see the whole picture, but I’m going to take this next step with you, Lord.”

When you want to stay, and God sends you

So what does this look like for us, halfway through Lent?

Maybe your life right now feels like that peaceful routine: early mornings, familiar commutes, workdays on repeat, prayer that’s fine but not exactly stretching you. Or maybe it’s the opposite: too much noise, too many headlines, too many voices telling you what you should be outraged about today. In both cases, there’s a temptation to stay where we are—either comfortably settled or comfortably numb.

Lent, in this Sunday’s light, is Jesus taking us gently by the hand and saying: “Rise, and do not be afraid.” Not “rise and perform,” not “rise and prove yourself,” but “rise and come with me.” The Transfiguration reminds us that:

We are called and saved by grace, “not according to our works.”
We are invited to listen before we understand.
We are meant to go back down the mountain with him, into a noisy, hurting world, as people who have seen his light.

For some of us, “going down the mountain” might mean stepping out of a comfortable spiritual routine and trying something a bit more courageous: going back to confession, returning to Sunday Mass, joining your family for prayer even if it feels awkward, reaching out to someone who is struggling. For others, it might mean turning down the volume of the world just enough to actually hear Jesus again: less doomscrolling, more Gospel; fewer hot takes, more quiet listening.

The Carmelite prayer asks God to “transfigure our cloudy and confused spirits so that we are not afraid to follow Jesus through the times of trial, tribulation and stretching.” That’s the heart of this Sunday. God doesn’t shame us for wanting to stay where it feels safe. He meets us there, shows us his glory, and then gently sends us back into the ordinary, carrying that light.

A simple listening practice for this week

If you can give God two or three quiet minutes sometime today or this week, here’s a small way to “listen more than understand”:

Three questions to sit with:

Where am I most tempted right now to “pitch a tent”—to stay put spiritually or emotionally, rather than follow where Jesus might be nudging me next?
Where have I slipped into a performance mindset with God—trying to earn his love, or comparing my efforts to others—instead of starting from grace?
What is one small, concrete step Jesus might be inviting me to take this week, even if I don’t fully understand why yet?

A short prayer (adapted in the spirit of the Little Flower reflection):

Lord Jesus,
You are the beloved Son, and the Father tells me to listen to you.
Save me from the pressure to perform, and remind me that I am called by your grace, not my works.
When I want to stay where it feels safe, give me courage to follow you back down the mountain, into the world you love.
Take me through my clouds of doubt and distraction to your holy mountain, where I can see your glory,
and then send me as a quiet light into the places that feel dark.
Rise in me, Lord, and help me not be afraid. Amen.

If all you do this week is pause your scrolling long enough to ask, “Lord, what are you saying to me?” and then listen for a moment, that’s already a powerful Lenten step—not according to your works, but according to his grace.

When Sin Runs Deep: Jesus’ Shocking Words and God’s Promise of a New Heart

Jesus exposes how deep sin really runs—not to crush us, but to replace our hardened, petty hearts with a new, generous heart that looks like his.enduringword+2

When Jesus Sounds Extreme

In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus uses some of the most jarring language in all of Scripture: “If your right eye causes you to sin, tear it out and throw it away… If your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off.” He repeats the same idea later: it is better to enter life “maimed or lame” than to be thrown into the fire with all your members intact. These are not literal surgical instructions, but spiritual shock therapy—Jesus is trying to wake us up to how lethal sin is when we treat it lightly or manage it politely.preceptaustin+5

If the problem were just our eye or our hand, we might imagine we could “fix” ourselves by removing a part. But you can pluck out the eye and still have a mind that replays the image; you can cut off the hand and still have a heart that broods over revenge or fantasizes about using others. Jesus’ hyperbole forces the question: if every part of me can become a channel for sin, maybe the real issue is deeper than body parts. Maybe the “surgery” we need is not on the limb, but on the center that drives them all.lifehopeandtruth+2

The Hidden Depth of Sin

Jesus doesn’t begin by talking about eyes and hands; he starts with the commandments themselves. “You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall not commit adultery’… But I say to you that everyone who looks at a woman with lustful intent has already committed adultery with her in his heart.” Earlier in the same chapter he goes even deeper with anger: “You have heard that it was said… ‘You shall not murder’… But I say to you that everyone who is angry with his brother will be liable to judgment.”harvestpca+2

In both cases, Jesus exposes the “road” that leads to the visible sin long before the final act:

Long before murder, there is unchecked anger, contempt, and the quiet decision to stop seeing the other person as a brother.bible.usccb+1
Long before adultery, there is the cultivated gaze, the entertained fantasy, the interior willingness to treat another person as an object.harvestpca+1

This is where pettiness shows itself. A petty heart asks, “How far can I go and still be technically innocent?” A generous heart asks, “What leads me toward love and away from anything that degrades God’s image in me or in others?” Jesus’ strong language about cutting off and plucking out is his way of saying: don’t negotiate with what kills your capacity to love; don’t bargain with what hardens your heart.

Hardened Hearts and Religious Pettiness

When Scripture talks about a “hardened heart,” it isn’t just describing emotional coldness; it’s naming a stubborn, resistant interior that refuses to be moved by God or by the needs of others. In the Gospels, Jesus repeatedly runs into this hardness—often among very religious people. In Mark, when he heals the man with the withered hand on the Sabbath, the religious leaders watch him, not with compassion, but with suspicion, and Jesus looks at them “with anger, grieved at their hardness of heart.” They are more concerned with guarding their system than with rejoicing that a broken man has been restored.openbible+2

When Jesus discusses divorce, he explains that Moses’ allowance was “because of your hardness of heart,” but that “from the beginning it was not so.” In other words, God had made a concession to human stubbornness, but it was far from his original, generous design for covenant love. Hardness of heart always shrinks love down to the smallest possible space: What am I allowed to do? How quickly can I write this person off and still feel righteous? How can I keep my image intact while my relationships crumble?dwightgingrich+2

Jesus is ruthless with this kind of religious minimalism because it blinds us to God’s generosity. A hardened, petty heart will quote Scripture while ignoring the suffering person in front of it; it will defend its rights while forgetting that every breath is a gift. The same Jesus who warns us to cut off hands and pluck out eyes is the Jesus who exposes our loopholes, our technicalities, and our carefully managed bitterness—and then offers us something entirely different.bible+1

God’s Promise: From Stone to Flesh

Centuries before Jesus, God had already diagnosed the problem: “I will remove the heart of stone from your flesh and give you a heart of flesh.” Ezekiel’s image is striking. A heart of stone is inflexible, unresponsive, and cold toward God’s voice; a heart of flesh is soft, living, and responsive, able to be impressed and moved by God’s will. In the ancient world, the heart was the center of decision, desire, and thought, so this is not cosmetic change—it is a promise of a new core.biblehub+3

God doesn’t stop there: “I will give you a new heart, and a new spirit I will put within you.” Jeremiah echoes the same hope: “I will put my law within them, and I will write it on their hearts.” Under the old covenant, God’s law was written on stone tablets outside of us; under the new covenant in Christ, that law of love is meant to be etched into our very desires and motivations. Jesus is not lowering the bar; he is raising it and then promising the grace to live what he commands.esv+3

Now the extreme sayings about eyes and hands come into focus. Jesus isn’t calling us to mutilate ourselves to earn God’s favor; he is revealing that the old, stone heart can’t be managed into holiness. It has to be replaced. It’s not that we remove one offending part and keep the rest intact; we bring the whole person to the surgeon who can actually give us a new heart.

From Pettiness to Generosity

What does a new, “flesh” heart look like in practice? The New Testament consistently links it with generosity. “We know love by this, that he laid down his life for us, and we ought to lay down our lives for the brethren.” “If anyone has the world’s goods and sees his brother in need, yet closes his heart against him, how does God’s love abide in him?” The contrast is sharp: a closed, stingy heart versus a heart opened by Christ’s own self-giving.lifepointbaptist+2

Jesus describes this generous posture in his own teaching: “If anyone forces you to go one mile, go with him two miles. Give to the one who begs from you, and do not refuse the one who would borrow from you.” This isn’t about becoming a doormat; it’s about becoming free from the internal bookkeeping that always asks, “Have I done enough yet?” Pettiness calculates; generosity rests in the Father’s abundance and asks, “How can I mirror the way God has treated me?”logos+2

In daily life, pettiness in my heart might show up as:

Doing the bare minimum in my marriage, parenting, or friendships, while resenting any extra demand.
Clinging to small offenses, replaying them, and refusing to let go until the other person “pays.”
Giving financially or serving others but constantly checking whether I am getting enough appreciation in return.globalchristianrelief+1

By contrast, a generous heart acts more like Christ: quick to forgive, willing to go beyond what is strictly required, eager to protect others from temptation rather than seeing how close to the line we can stand together. The same Jesus who warns about hell also says, “It is more blessed to give than to receive,” promising that there is joy on the other side of relinquished pettiness.lifepointbaptist+2

Letting Jesus Rewrite the Heart

So how do we move from a hardened, petty heart to a generous one? We don’t get there by gritting our teeth and cutting off figurative hands on our own; we get there by bringing our whole interior life under the gaze and grace of Jesus. First, we let him tell the truth about us. When he says that anger, contempt, and lust in the heart are already violations of the law of love, we resist the impulse to defend ourselves and instead allow his light to reach those hidden corners.bible.usccb+1

Second, we cooperate with his grace by taking his warnings seriously. That may mean literally “cutting off” certain habits, environments, or inputs that regularly pull us toward sin—changing what we watch, what we scroll, who we vent to, or how we let our imagination run. Not because we are terrified of God, but because we trust his diagnosis: whatever keeps feeding the hardness in me is not worth clinging to.gotquestions+2

Finally, we ask God for the miracle he has already promised: “Lord, take away my heart of stone and give me a heart of flesh; write your law of love on my heart.” Over time, as he answers that prayer, we find that obedience becomes less about rule-keeping and more about family resemblance. The goal is not simply to avoid sin but to become people whose very instincts are being reshaped—less petty, more generous; less defensive, more open; less stone, more flesh.dailyverse.knowing-jesus+2

That is the hope at the center of Jesus’ hard words: he exposes how deep sin really runs not to leave us in shame, but to invite us into a deeper healing than we imagined was possible—a new heart that looks a little more like his.

Epiphany of the Lord

The Magi have come to see Jesus and pay homage to Him.

Matthew 2:1-12 tells the story of the Magi who come from the East, following a mysterious star, searching for “the newborn king of the Jews.” They arrive first in Jerusalem, which is exactly where you would expect a king of the Jews to be—but the real King is not in the palace with Herod, he is in hidden poverty in Bethlehem. Right from the start, Matthew is showing that God’s ways quietly overturn our expectations and that the true King is humble and vulnerable, yet worthy of adoration.thesoutherncross+2

When Herod hears about this child, he is frightened, and “all Jerusalem with him,” because a rival king threatens the fragile balance of his power. He gathers the chief priests and scribes, and they correctly identify Bethlehem as the place where the Messiah is to be born, quoting the prophecy that a ruler will come from Bethlehem who will shepherd God’s people. It is striking that the religious experts know the Scriptures but do not move an inch to seek the child, while pagan seekers from far away are willing to leave everything behind and follow the light God gives them.crs+2

The star reappears and guides the Magi to the exact place where the child is, and Matthew tells us they are “overjoyed” at seeing it. When they enter the house, they see “the child with Mary his mother,” and they fall to the ground in adoration, a gesture of worship that the Gospel reserves for God. Then they open their treasures and offer gold, frankincense, and myrrh—gifts that Catholic tradition reads as a kind of small creed in action: gold for Christ’s kingship, frankincense for his divinity, and myrrh for his future suffering and death. The same child who lies in his Mother’s arms will reign as King, receive our worship as God, and freely give his life on the Cross.catholic+2

The conclusion of the passage is quiet but important: having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod, the Magi go back to their own country “by another way.” On the surface this protects the child from Herod’s plans, but spiritually it also suggests that a real encounter with Christ changes a person’s path; after worshiping him, they cannot simply go back the way they came. The God who drew them by a star now directs their conscience and their choices, and they respond with obedience and trust.missions.ewtn+1

In the Catholic Church, this Gospel is proclaimed on the Solemnity of the Epiphany, which is one of the great feasts of the Christmas cycle. “Epiphany” means manifestation or revelation: in Bethlehem, Christ is revealed not only to Israel, but to the nations, represented by these learned Gentile visitors who adore him. In many older traditions, Epiphany was seen as the crowning feast of Christmas, and in the current Roman Rite the broader Christmas season concludes with the Baptism of the Lord, which is closely linked to Epiphany as another moment when Jesus is manifested publicly.nationalshrine+3

The Church has also kept some beautiful customs to remember this event. In many places, Epiphany is known as “Three Kings Day,” reflecting the long-standing tradition that there were three wise men, often named Caspar, Melchior, and Balthasar, who brought three royal gifts. One especially meaningful practice is the Epiphany house blessing, or “chalking the door”: the family uses blessed chalk to write something like “20 + C + M + B + 26” above the main entrance, with the numbers marking the year and the letters standing both for the names of the Magi and for the Latin prayer “Christus mansionem benedicat” – “May Christ bless this house.” It is a simple way of saying that, just as the Magi entered the house of the Holy Family and found Christ, we want our own home to be a place where Christ is welcomed, honored, and allowed to guide everything that happens inside.detroitcatholic+3

For a family reading this passage together at the close of the Christmas season, the story of the Magi raises gentle but serious questions. Amid school, work, and all the noise of ordinary life, are we more like Herod, defending our own plans, or like the Magi, willing to be interrupted and led by God, even when it means taking “another way” than we expected? The gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh can become a pattern for what each of you might offer Christ this year: the “gold” of your talents and achievements, the “frankincense” of your prayer and worship, and the “myrrh” of your sacrifices and hidden sufferings, freely given to him in love. In that sense, Epiphany is not only the conclusion of Christmas, but also a beginning—a moment to step into the new year with the same attitude as the Magi: eyes fixed on Christ, hearts open, and ready, if needed, to go home by a different road.mycatholic+2

With Jesus’s birth, I have experienced a rebirth of my own in my career life. Directions I once took were redirected, and newer callings led me in ways I thought went astray, but later I would discover that there was greater purpose in store for me. In your reflections today, consider how in ways you have resisted God’s subtle guidance past our stubborness. Then think about the epiphany you experienced when you finally submitted and let it happen. The effect in my situations were eye opening and fulfilling. We do not know until God has revealed “by another way” that we realize our potential, and His mercy and grace at work in our lives.

Photo Credit, Painting:
Initial E: The Adoration of the Magi by Franco dei Russi
Original public domain image from Getty Museum

Stormy Weather

Read a wonderful post titled: Surviving Storms today. It was a synopsis of a Sunday sermon witnessed by the author. The blogger begins: “We all have to endure storms. They show up in the form of financial, occupational, and/or personal crises.”; She uses Acts 27:19-41 to illustrate a story of Paul and others who were sailing to Rome when they got caught in a terrible storm.

The points of weathering a terrible storm was illustrated by their visiting pastor based on this reading including the following challenges:

What is God asking you to throw overboard so you can survive the storm?
What simple step is God asking you to do to move out of the storm?
What opportunity does God want you to see right now?

I liked point #1: what kind of burdens do you carry now that keeps you from staying afloat? What are the most important things that will help us survive and stay afloat? Check out the passage and read the original blog entry; the discussion is as encouraging as it is wonderfully metaphorical. Remember that “It doesn’t matter how big your sail is… it matters how much wind is behind your sail. If you rely on God’s grace, you will always survive the storm.”

What kind of storms and hardships have you lived through in your life? What did you do to survive? What helped you to survive and see a future that is worthwhile?

For me, my job has been a daily source of pressure and unmitigated stress. I still wake up in the wee hours of the morning, every morning, from worry or doubt related to the previous day’s work. Though the conditions weighed me down, I was never expected to get rid of any of it. I had many grievances against my managers from past incidents – a past that was already set in a long ago time frame. Should I continue to address what angers me, or should I focus my energies on the new, future opportunities that were made available by God for me to grow.

It’s Good to Ask God

Verse for the Day: 1 Samuel 15:22

What Items would you like to pray about each day? How might you create a time to pray regularly?

Daily prayer, is all about preparing our needs and routinely asking for our intentions and guidance. When fitted into a daily schedule it may seem like just a routine, like brushing teeth, preparing breakfast or shaving, but programmed into this practice is a sense of duty. It is that sense of duty that brings us closer to God because within it is obedience… as in today’s verse, “to obey is better than sacrifice” when it comes to our choice in how to serve the Lord.

Stumbling Along

Recognize

Everyone who comes to know Jesus stumbles because of him. He fails to meet our wrong expectations. He calls us to do impossible things or to become something we think we could never become. This is his way of teaching us how much we need Him. He breaks us to pieces so that he can put us back together in His image. -Michael Card

Renew

The rule is this: Christians are people who remember their own weaknesses and failure. They are under reconstruction. So they offer hope and forgiveness to people who fall and who need Jesus’ healing grace and hope. -Donald M. Joy

Revive

1 Corinthians 1:20-31
2 Corinthians 4:1-12

Commentary

1 Corinthians 1:20-31 – I found this passage oddly confusing, but the last part gelled it together: “…For this world in its present form is passing away.” It’s all temporary. To remember the way we were when Jesus calls us is important because that status (no matter how terrible or difficult it may have been) holds a key to the hope of our future: For all that we have, reflect as if we do not have it. For all that we lack, think not of our deprivation. Whatever status we are in is only temporary in the grander picture of eternity.

2 Corinthians 4:1-12 – A nice passage about how our own resurrection is through our dependency and our tie to Jesus Christ. We are in need of Jesus’ saving grace and hope. We are totally and completely dependent on Him for salvation.

The Prayer of Jabez

I recently picked up a Christian devotional entitled “The Prayer of Jabez” and I was overwhelmed with the sheer enthusiasm of its message. This devotional sparked a whole series of books, devotionals and publications all centered around a little-known man from the Bible. He wasn’t anyone as famous or well known as David or Noah; in fact, this man: Jabez is only mentioned once in the Bible and then only for two sentences. But what he has to say in prayer has phoenomenal impact and meaning on our life as God-fearing (revering) individuals. In fact, Jabez’s prayer has inspired me to write a series of articles on exactly what he has to say and how it can help you build your relationship with God.

From the first book of Chronicles:

Jabez was more honorable than his brothers. His mother had named him Jabez, saying, “I gave birth to him in pain.” Jabez cried out to the God of Israel, “Oh, that you would bless me and enlarge my territory! Let your hand be with me, and keep me from harm so that I will be free from pain.” And God granted his request. (1 Chronicles 4:9-10, NIV)

The prayer goes so quickly, you almost miss it. Truly, this is one gem that anyone can fit into their schedule in just 10 minutes. As a recap, Jabez did something remarkable in prayer that changed his life compared to the rest of the people referenced and mentioned in the same chapter. Jabez’s four requests:

“Please bless me indeed!”
“Please enlarge my territory!”
“Please put Your hand on me!”
“Please keep me from evil!”

And God granted his requests to him… The book, “The Prayer of Jabez” by Bruce Wilkinson tells of testimonials and anecdotes of answered prayers and requests just by changing one’s mindset to think and act along the lines of this four part prayer. Without giving away too much about the book itself, I’d like to share a series of blog articles just about Jabez’s prayer and ways to interpret its meaningfulness in our lives as Christians.

As a little background, back in the times of the ancient Hebrews (about 1200 B.C.) Jabez was born to the tribe of Judah… the same tribe that David and Jesus came from later… in Bible times, a person’s name defined his future. For example, Solomon means “peace,” and sure enough, he became the first king of Israel to reign without going to war. As history would have it, Jabez’s entry into the world was not the most auspicious one. Jabez bore a heavy burden with his name, meaning “pain” – what kind of future would be in store for him with an awful name like that?

Jabez was desperate. He was already predestined by his culture to have a miserable, poor, simple life… perhaps his family and tribe even treated him as such. In his desperation, instead of lamenting his situation or cursing his mother’s cruelty, he began to pray to God in earnest and he starts by asking for His blessing.

The devotional made a good point that the Biblical sense of “blessing” isn’t the watered down, every day expression we use when people sneeze… we ask God to bless everything: our parents, our day at work, the food we eat; however in the Biblical meaning, to request a “blessing” is to ask for a “supernatural” favor.

When we ask for God’s blessing, we’re not asking for more of what we could get for ourselves. We’re sincerely asking for the kind of good things only God has the power to know about or give. That’s why the Bible says, “The Lord’s blessing is our greatest wealth. All our work adds nothing to it!” (Proverbs 10:22, TLB)

The Lord has many blessings to bear upon each of us as well. But the catch is, we have to ask. If you’ve never prayed and asked God for His blessings, you’ve missed out on a gift that keeps giving, and giving, and gving. Don’t miss out on this opportunity of your lifetime! As the Bible says:

You do not have because you do not ask. The Bible also says (James 4:2) Ask, promised Jesus, and it will be given to you… What man is there among you who, if his son asks for bead, will give him a stone? If you then, being evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father who is in heaven give good things to those who ask him!” (Matthew 7:7,9,11)

And that’s the catch. there is no limit to God’s blessings in our lives. They are only limited by us and our forgetfulness or ignorance to ask, not by His resources, his power or willingness to give.

The Tree

A Passage on Trees

From one of my reading sessions, I found a nice life-parable to share from the works of Australian author and inspirational speaker, Matthew Kelley. In his book The Rhythm of Life: Living Every Day with Passion & Purpose, he remarked an observation of a tall, old tree on the grounds of the monastary where he was staying, that “despite its imperfect forms and crooked branches, it had a perfection of its own.” Kelley admired the great tree and went on to remark on its significance.

Later in the year, Kelley writes of an experience on a nature walk after a storm that revealed a meaningful metaphor for him and his spiritual growth. The violent storm had uprooted and destroyed many of the trees in the surrounding area, but this large, lone tree was virtually unaffected. He observed that

A tree with strong roots grows strong. A tree with strong roots bears much fruit. A tree with strong roots bears good fruit. A tree with strong roots can weather any storm. If a tree is uprooted and replanted often, it will not be able to sink its roots deep into the earth and therefore will not grow strong or be fruitful.

Likewise, for people, these tree roots are a metaphor for our intellectual and spiritual growth. The things that we do to grow and to establish these roots affects our strength to weather overpowering challenges and strife, as well as the quality of our existence through the fruits that we bear on our branches.

Meditations as a Tree

Another reflection on trees comes from Eastern Asian philosophy (I’m not sure exactly which one though) which I learned a long time ago as a teenager from a family acquaintance. It’s a meditation that also involves thinking of trees – its thought processes gives you the opportunity to relax and expel negative energies from the body.

Imagine your body as a tree. Your leaves and your branches on top pull in the pollution, carbon dioxide and negative energies from the atmosphere. These toxins pass through your branches, down your trunk and into your roots. As a tree, your body processes these negative energies and converts them to basic, life-giving ingredients to put back into the earth: oxygen, water and nutrients.

Imagine your tree-like body as a part of this earthly cycle. Absorbing, processing, releasing. Whatever problems or strife you have experienced and “absorbed” into your self, let it pass through your branches, down your trunk and out of your body into the ground.

Close your eyes and focus on your breathing. Each breath pulls in more from the atmosphere, then pushes it down and releases it into the ground. Know that you are a part of a cycle – not an ending point in the absorption of those negative energies. Whatever you’ve endured to this point in the day is just as easily released back into the earth. Think and feel yourself through several cycles of breathing, allowing yourself to relax.

I like to think of life’s daily events as generators of energy (both good and bad). We can choose to react – which catches and holds on to the energy, or we can simply let it pass. Over the years, I have managed stress and stress relief very well with this simple visualization. Give it a try and see if it works for you!

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