Day 38: In the Father’s Hands

Scripture Reading: (Jerusalem Bible)

John 10:31–42

The Jews fetched stones to stone Him, so Jesus said to them, “I have done many good works for you to see, works from My Father; for which of these are you stoning Me?” The Jews answered Him, “We are not stoning You for doing a good work, but for blasphemy: You are only a man and You claim to be God.”

Jesus answered: “Is it not written in your Law: I said, you are gods? So the Law uses the word ‘gods’ of those to whom the word of God was addressed, and scripture cannot be rejected. Yet you say to someone the Father has consecrated and sent into the world, ‘You are blaspheming,’ because He says, ‘I am the Son of God.’ If I am not doing My Father’s work, there is no need to believe Me; but if I am doing it, then even if you refuse to believe in Me, at least believe in the work I do; then you will know for sure that the Father is in Me and I am in the Father.”

They tried to arrest Him then, but He eluded them. He went back again to the far side of the Jordan, to the district where John had once been baptizing, and He stayed there. Many people who came to Him said, “John gave no signs, but all he said about this man was true,” and many of them believed in Him.

Reflection:

As we near the end of Lent, the tension in the Gospel rises. Jesus is no longer met with curiosity but with hostility. His words are not misunderstood—they are rejected. Still, He does not retreat in fear. He rests in the truth of who He is and remains faithful to the will of the Father.

This moment invites us to consider the cost of fidelity. When we strive to follow Christ in a world that may not understand or accept us, we too may experience opposition, confusion, or silence. But these are not signs of failure. Often, they are moments of deep purification—invitations to trust more completely in the Father, just as Jesus does.

What sustained Jesus was not popularity or ease. It was union. “The Father is in Me and I am in the Father.” This is the heart of our journey, too. Lent is not about performance. It is about deeper intimacy with the God who has consecrated and sent us into the world with a mission of love. And sometimes, faithfulness means walking forward even when we do not see the fruit.

But that doesn’t make the road easy. Many of us wrestle with fears or pressure—from relationships, from work, or from the weight of our own expectations. In those moments, we need companions. The Church encourages us to seek wise counsel: a spiritual friend, a confessor, a priest or religious who can help us remember who we are and who we belong to. We are not alone.

The Desert Father Evagrius Ponticus wrote:

“When the mind is stripped, and empty of thoughts, then it can enter into the depths where Christ dwells.”
(Chapters on Prayer, 67)

It is in stillness that we begin to recognize the voice of the Father and rest in His care. Let us not fear the places of quiet where we feel unseen or unrecognized. It may be there that Christ draws us into His own hidden life of love.

St. Teresa of Calcutta, who knew well the silence of God, reminds us:

“God has not called me to be successful. He has called me to be faithful.”

Today, let us walk with Jesus in trust. Even when misunderstood or rejected, we are in the Father’s hands. That is where our peace lies.

Reflection Questions:

1. Are there places in your life where you are experiencing resistance or misunderstanding in your faith journey?
2. How can you deepen your trust in the Father, even when His presence feels hidden?
3. Who might you turn to for support and wise counsel in your spiritual walk?

Closing Prayer:

Lord Jesus, You were not afraid to speak truth, even when it brought rejection. You stayed faithful because You knew the love of the Father. Teach me to trust in that same love. Help me not to be discouraged by the misunderstandings or struggles I face. Let me rest in Your presence and draw strength from the knowledge that I am never alone.

Amen.

Day 37: Before Abraham Was, I Am

Scripture Reading: (Jerusalem Bible)

John 8:51–59 

Jesus said to the Jews: “I tell you solemnly, if anyone keeps My word he will never see death.” The Jews said, “Now we know that You are possessed. Abraham is dead, and the prophets are dead, and yet You say, ‘If anyone keeps My word he will never know the taste of death.’ Are You greater than our father Abraham, who is dead? The prophets are dead too. Who are You claiming to be?”

Jesus answered: “If I were to seek My own glory that would be no glory at all; My glory is conferred by the Father, by the One of whom you say, ‘He is our God,’ although you do not know Him. But I know Him, and if I were to say, ‘I do not know Him,’ I should be a liar, as you are. But I do know Him, and I keep His word. Your father Abraham rejoiced to think that he would see My Day; he saw it and was glad.”

The Jews then said, “You are not fifty yet, and You have seen Abraham!” Jesus replied: “I tell you solemnly, before Abraham ever was, I Am.” At this they picked up stones to throw at Him; but Jesus hid Himself and left the Temple.

Reflection:

This Gospel reaches a dramatic and profound turning point: Jesus reveals not only His mission, but His identity. “Before Abraham ever was, I Am.” It is a name that echoes the voice of God from the burning bush—a claim that leaves no room for ambiguity. Jesus is not merely a prophet or a teacher. He is the Eternal One. The Word made flesh.

But what does this mean for us, especially in these final days of Lent?

It means that in Christ, we are not following a distant ideal—we are being invited into communion with the Living God. Lent is not just about moral effort. It is about relationship. To keep His word, as Jesus says, is to remain in that relationship—faithful, trusting, open.

And yet, we know how hard that can be. There are days we feel distant. Times when questions cloud our faith. Moments when silence feels louder than the presence of God. Like those in today’s Gospel, we can be tempted to react with skepticism or resistance—especially when Jesus asks for deeper surrender.

But Lent teaches us to stay in the conversation. To ask—not with cynicism, but with longing—“Who are You claiming to be?” And to listen for His answer. Jesus does not force belief; He reveals, patiently and truthfully, again and again.

St. Teresa of Calcutta once said:

“When you look at the crucifix, you understand how much Jesus loved you. When you look at the Sacred Host, you understand how much Jesus loves you now.”
(Jesus, the Word to Be Spoken: Prayers and Meditations by Mother Teresa, edited by Brother Angelo Devananda, 1996)

And from Evagrius Ponticus, one of the great voices of early Christian wisdom:

“If you are a theologian, you will pray truly; and if you pray truly, you are a theologian.”
(Chapters on Prayer, 61)

To stay close to Jesus, we need prayer—not just as obligation, but as encounter. We need silence to listen. Scripture to anchor us. And people who can walk with us when the path feels unclear. God has not left us alone. And Jesus, the Great I Am, does not abandon His own.

Reflection Questions:

1. What does Jesus’ identity as “I Am” mean for your life today?
2. Are there places of resistance or fear in your heart where Christ is inviting deeper trust?
3. How can prayer help you remain in relationship with the Living God today?

Closing Prayer:

Jesus, You are the Eternal Word, the Living God who calls me to communion. Help me to keep Your word not only with my lips but with my life. Teach me to stay with You in prayer, even when I do not understand. Open my heart to the mystery of who You are, and let that truth lead me into deeper love, deeper freedom, and deeper faith.

Amen.

Day 36: The Truth Will Set You Free

Scripture Reading: (Jerusalem Bible)

John 8:31–42 

To the Jews who believed in Him, Jesus said: “If you make My word your home you will indeed be My disciples, you will learn the truth and the truth will make you free.”

They answered, “We are descended from Abraham and we have never been the slaves of anyone; what do you mean, ‘You will be made free’?”

Jesus replied: “I tell you most solemnly, everyone who commits sin is a slave. Now the slave’s place in the house is not assured, but the son’s place is assured. So if the Son makes you free, you will be free indeed. I know that you are descended from Abraham; but in spite of that you want to kill Me because nothing I say has penetrated into you. What I, for My part, speak of is what I have seen with My Father; but you, you put into action the lessons learnt from your father.”

They repeated, “Our father is Abraham.”

Jesus said to them: “If you were Abraham’s children, you would do as Abraham did. As it is, you want to kill Me when I tell you the truth as I have learnt it from God; that is not what Abraham did. What you are doing is what your father does.”

“We were not born of prostitution,” they went on, “we have one father: God.”

Jesus answered: “If God were your father, you would love Me, since I have come here from God; yes, I have come from Him; not that I came because I chose, no, I was sent, and by Him.”

⸻

Reflection:

At the heart of this Gospel is a promise and a challenge: “If the Son makes you free, you will be free indeed.” We live in a world that talks often about freedom—but Jesus speaks of a different kind. This is not merely the freedom to choose—it is the freedom to choose what is good, what is true, what leads to life in God. This is the freedom that comes from being fully His.

Jesus speaks directly to those who believed in Him—and yet still resisted the full implications of His word. “If you make My word your home… you will learn the truth and the truth will make you free.” Truth is not just abstract. It is relational. It is Christ Himself. This kind of freedom is not the absence of struggle but the presence of Christ. It is found in surrendering to the Father’s will, as Jesus did—in letting go of control and abiding in love.

The people in the Gospel claim, “We’ve never been slaves.” But Jesus reveals a deeper slavery: sin. Sin limits our sight. It distorts our desires. It binds our hearts to what cannot save us. To be free in Christ is to be unbound from all that keeps us from love—and to live in the transforming truth of His word.

But often, we hold back. Maybe it’s fear—of what we’ll lose. Maybe it’s anxiety—of surrendering what we’ve clung to. Maybe it’s old wounds that whisper, “You’re not worthy.” These don’t disqualify us. They invite honesty.

This is where the spiritual practice of ARRR prayer can be helpful:

• Acknowledge what you’re experiencing.
• Relate it to Jesus in heartfelt honesty.
• Receive what He offers you in that place.
• Respond with trust and love.

St. Catherine of Siena reminds us that this freedom is not about willpower, but about intimacy with God:

“You have been made by God and re-made in the blood of His Son, and you are being continually made new by the fire of His love.”
(Letter T82)

The Desert Father Abba Poemen once said:

“Do not give your heart to that which does not satisfy. Let love be your measure in all things.”
(Apophthegmata Patrum, Poemen 18)

Freedom in Christ is not license to do as we please—it is grace to become who we truly are. It’s not about escaping suffering, but allowing God to transform it. So today, let us ask: Are we willing to let the truth dwell in us—to trust Jesus with the parts of our lives still bound by fear or falsehood?

Reflection Questions:

1. What still binds your heart and holds you back from full freedom in Christ?
2. Are there fears, anxieties, or false securities that Jesus is asking you to surrender?
3. How might ARRR prayer guide your steps today toward healing and trust?

Closing Prayer:

Lord Jesus, You are the Truth that sets us free. We bring You our fears, our pride, and our false securities. Help us to surrender them to You. Let Your word dwell in us, reshape us, and lead us into the freedom of love. Root us in Your truth, and help us to trust the Father as You do.

Amen.

Day 35: Look Upon the One They Have Pierced

Scripture Reading: (Jerusalem Bible)

John 8:21–30

Again Jesus said to them: “I am going away; you will look for Me and you will die in your sin. Where I am going, you cannot come.”

The Jews said to one another, “Will He kill Himself? Is that what He means by saying, ‘Where I am going, you cannot come’?”

Jesus went on: “You are from below; I am from above. You are of this world; I am not of this world. I have told you already: You will die in your sins. Yes, if you do not believe that I am He, you will die in your sins.”

So they said to Him, “Who are you?”

Jesus answered: “What I have told you from the outset. About you I have much to say and much to condemn. But the One who sent Me is truthful, and what I have learned from Him I declare to the world.”

They failed to understand that He was talking to them about the Father.

So Jesus said: “When you have lifted up the Son of Man, then you will know that I am He and that I do nothing of Myself: what the Father has taught Me is what I preach; He who sent Me is with Me, and has not left Me to Myself, for I always do what pleases Him.”

As He was saying this, many came to believe in Him.

⸻

Reflection:

In these final days of Lent, we are invited to draw close to the mystery of Christ’s suffering and self-offering. Jesus speaks of being “lifted up”—pointing not only to the physical crucifixion, but to the deeper mystery of His love poured out. When the Son of Man is lifted up, then we shall know who He truly is.

This Gospel speaks to all of us who struggle with understanding, with surrender, with trust. How often do we, like the crowd, wrestle with Jesus’ words—questioning, misunderstanding, resisting? And yet, even in the midst of our confusion, Jesus reveals the way to truth: the cross.

To gaze upon the cross in prayer is not merely to look—it is to listen. It is to enter the silence where Christ speaks most profoundly. It is to say, “Jesus, help me to receive the mystery of Your love. Teach me to trust You, to live in Your love, and to be conformed to You.” This is not just a moment of reflection—it is an invitation to communion. As we contemplate the crucifix, especially in these final days of Lent, we see not only the depth of Christ’s suffering, but the measure of His love. And with Jesus, we are invited to surrender ourselves to the loving will of the Father—trusting, as He did, that even suffering is not the end, but the beginning of glory.

St. John of the Cross once wrote:

“The soul that walks in love neither tires others nor grows tired.”
(Sayings of Light and Love, 97)

Abba Theodore of Pherme offers us this simple but piercing word:

“If you love God, you will be ready for trials.”
(Apophthegmata Patrum, Alphabetical Collection, Theodore of Pherme 6)

Love and trust are not measured by sentiment, but by perseverance. Christ’s love did not waver on the cross—and He offers that same grace to us. Perhaps today, you can take a moment to physically hold a crucifix in your hands. If one is on your wall, take it down and sit with it. If it’s around your neck, lift it close to your heart. And if you do not yet have one, consider seeking one out—a crucifix to hold in prayer, to gaze upon in silence.

Let that be today’s practice: to hold the cross not only with our hands, but with our hearts. To contemplate its mystery and beauty. To let Christ speak, not just to our minds, but to our souls. If you want to know how much the Father loves you—gaze upon the cross.

⸻

Reflection Questions:

1.What does the cross reveal to you about the love of Christ?
2.Are there areas of your life where trust in the Father’s will is difficult?
3.How can you make space today to gaze on the cross and listen more deeply to what Christ is saying to your heart?

⸻

Closing Prayer:

Lord Jesus, You were lifted up in love for the life of the world. Teach us to stay with You beneath the cross—not in fear, but in faith. Help us to trust in Your love, to receive it anew, and to surrender more deeply to the Father’s will. May the cross be not just a sign of suffering, but a fountain of grace. Let us never turn away from so great a love.

Amen.

Day 34: Mercy Meets Us in Our Sin

Scripture Reading (Jerusalem Bible):

John 8:1–11 (Jerusalem Bible)

Jesus went to the Mount of Olives. At daybreak, He appeared in the Temple again; and as all the people came to Him, He sat down and began to teach them.

The scribes and Pharisees brought a woman along who had been caught committing adultery; and making her stand there in full view of everybody, they said to Jesus, “Master, this woman was caught in the very act of committing adultery, and Moses has ordered us in the Law to condemn women like this to death by stoning. What have you to say?”

They asked Him this as a test, looking for something to use against Him. But Jesus bent down and started writing on the ground with His finger. As they persisted with their question, He looked up and said, “If there is one of you who has not sinned, let him be the first to throw a stone at her.”

Then He bent down and wrote on the ground again. When they heard this, they went away one by one, beginning with the eldest, until Jesus was left alone with the woman, who remained standing there.

He looked up and said, “Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?”

“No one, sir,” she replied.

“Neither do I condemn you,” said Jesus. “Go away, and don’t sin any more.”

Reflection:

These final days of Lent ask something deeper of us. By now, we’ve tried to fast, to forgive, to pray more faithfully. But in that very effort, we’ve likely stumbled. We may feel weary, distracted, or discouraged. These are the very moments where God desires to meet us.

Today’s Gospel offers a scene of total exposure. The woman is brought before Jesus not in private, but in public shame. Yet what she finds is not condemnation—but mercy. Jesus does not excuse her sin, but He meets it with a gaze of compassion and a call to new life: “Neither do I condemn you. Go, and sin no more.”

This Gospel is meant for you and for me. We may not be dragged into the public square, but we all carry wounds, regrets, and patterns of sin that feel exposed before the Lord. He sees it all—and still does not turn away. The One who knows us best loves us most.

As St. Leo the Great wrote:

“The ineffable mercy of Christ wiped away the sins of the woman with a word, and in the place of guilt, sowed seeds of virtue.”
(Sermon 62 on Lent)

The scribes and Pharisees want justice—but Jesus offers restoration. He shifts the gaze from the woman’s guilt to the self-examination of the crowd. “Let the one without sin cast the first stone.” And slowly, silently, they walk away. This is not a story about someone else—it is a mirror for our own hearts. Lent is not about stone-throwing; it’s about heart-returning.

The Desert Father Abba Moses the Black said:

“The one who knows his sins is greater than the one who raises the dead.”
(Apophthegmata Patrum, Moses 11)

Honest self-knowledge born in prayer is the path to healing. This is why Lent calls us into practices that soften our hearts and open us to mercy. Silent prayer, especially before the Blessed Sacrament, begins this process. So too does the sacrament of Reconciliation, where we meet Christ not with punishment, but with peace.

St. Elizabeth of the Trinity beautifully captured the mystery of grace in her retreat Heaven in Faith:

“‘Abyss calls to abyss.’ It is there in the very depths that the divine impact takes place, where the abyss of our nothingness encounters the Abyss of mercy, the immensity of the all of God.”

Her words remind us that God meets us in the very depths—not where we are strong, but where we are most broken. There, in the silence and the sorrow, in the place of our failure and regret, God’s mercy does not merely meet us—it overwhelms us. We are not left in our misery. The abyss of divine mercy fills every emptiness with grace.

The invitation today is deeply personal: Jesus looks at you and asks, “Where are your accusers? Has no one condemned you?” And when we answer, He replies—not with wrath, but with mercy. The response He desires is trust.

Reflection Questions:

1. Where do you feel most exposed or ashamed before God?
2. Do you believe Jesus meets you there not to condemn, but to heal?
3. What concrete step—perhaps silence, confession, or heartfelt prayer—can you take today to receive His mercy?

Closing Prayer:

Lord Jesus, You know my sin and still You love me. You look upon me with compassion and speak a word of mercy that makes me new. Help me to step out of shame and into grace. Cleanse my heart and restore my hope. Give me the courage to return to You fully, and to live in the freedom of Your forgiveness.

Amen.

Day 33: Trusting the One Who Calls Us to Life

Scripture Reading (Jerusalem Bible):

John 11: 11:3-7,​17,​20-27,​33-45

Mary and Martha sent this message to Jesus, ‘Lord, the man you love is ill.’ On receiving the message, Jesus said, ‘This sickness will end not in death but in God’s glory, and through it the Son of God will be glorified.’

  Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus, yet when he heard that Lazarus was ill he stayed where he was for two more days before saying to the disciples, ‘Let us go to Judaea.’

  On arriving, Jesus found that Lazarus had been in the tomb for four days already. When Martha heard that Jesus had come she went to meet him. Mary remained sitting in the house. Martha said to Jesus, ‘If you had been here, my brother would not have died, but I know that, even now, whatever you ask of God, he will grant you.’ ‘Your brother’ said Jesus to her ‘will rise again.’ Martha said, ‘I know he will rise again at the resurrection on the last day.’ Jesus said:

‘I am the resurrection and the life.
If anyone believes in me, even though he dies he will live,
and whoever lives and believes in me will never die.
Do you believe this?’

‘Yes, Lord,’ she said ‘I believe that you are the Christ, the Son of God, the one who was to come into this world.’

Jesus said in great distress, with a sigh that came straight from the heart, ‘Where have you put him?’ They said, ‘Lord, come and see.’ Jesus wept; and the Jews said, ‘See how much he loved him!’ But there were some who remarked, ‘He opened the eyes of the blind man, could he not have prevented this man’s death?’ Still sighing, Jesus reached the tomb: it was a cave with a stone to close the opening. Jesus said, ‘Take the stone away.’ Martha said to him, ‘Lord, by now he will smell; this is the fourth day.’ Jesus replied, ‘Have I not told you that if you believe you will see the glory of God?’ So they took away the stone. Then Jesus lifted up his eyes and said:

‘Father, I thank you for hearing my prayer.
I knew indeed that you always hear me,
but I speak for the sake of all these who stand round me,
so that they may believe it was you who sent me.’

When he had said this, he cried in a loud voice, ‘Lazarus, here! Come out!’ The dead man came out, his feet and hands bound with bands of stuff and a cloth round his face. Jesus said to them, ‘Unbind him, let him go free.’

Many of the Jews who had come to visit Mary and had seen what he did believed in him.

Reflection:

At the center of today’s Gospel stands a Christological truth: Jesus is not only the miracle-worker—He is the Resurrection and the Life. His very presence is life-giving. The raising of Lazarus is not simply a miracle of compassion—it is a signpost pointing to the Cross and Resurrection, a foreshadowing of what Jesus will accomplish for all who believe.

Both faithful and close to Jesus, Martha and Mary cry out in pain: “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” This lament does not reflect a lack of faith—it is the grief of love. Jesus does not rebuke them. He meets them in that grief. He weeps with them.

We grieve because we love—grief is love realized.

As St. Augustine said:
“Love is a kind of weight or burden: it pulls us toward what we love.”
(Confessions, XIII.9.10)

In heaven, our love is made whole in God. What Mary and Martha desire is wholeness. Jesus meets that longing not only with consolation, but with action. He steps into their sorrow and reveals the power of God’s mercy. He does not promise that suffering will disappear—but that it will not have the last word.

St. Thomas Aquinas teaches:
“God allows evil to happen only to bring a greater good therefrom.” (Summa Theologiae, I, q.2, a.3)

Jesus’ delay in arriving is not neglect—it is mystery. He allows space for faith, for trust, for the revelation of the Father’s glory. This is a reflection of how God often works in our lives: not on our timeline, but always for our ultimate good.

In calling Lazarus forth, Jesus also calls each of us. He invites us to step out of the tombs of fear, sin, and despair. But He does not do this alone. He calls the community to participate: “Unbind him and let him go.”

As St. Augustine beautifully wrote:
“He who created you without you will not save you without you.” (Sermon 169)

Lent is a time for us to reflect on what binds us and where we need new life. It is a time to allow Jesus to speak His word of life into our dead places. It is a time to help one another step out of darkness and into the light of communion.

St. Teresa of Calcutta once said:
“When you know how much God is in love with you, you can only live your life radiating that love.”

And the Desert Father Abba Poemen reminds us:
“Do not give your heart to that which does not satisfy. Let love be your measure in all things.” (Apophthegmata Patrum, Poemen 18)

Christ calls us to a life more abundant than we dare imagine. He meets us in our grief, walks with us in our confusion, and calls us into healing and wholeness. The invitation is not just to witness a miracle—but to live it, to step forward in faith, and to help unbind others along the way. The path through suffering is not meaningless—it is a path to resurrection.

Reflection Questions:

1. What parts of your heart feel like a tomb—places where you’ve lost hope or stopped believing things can change?
2. How do you respond when Jesus seems to delay or remain silent?
3. Are you willing to let Jesus unbind what keeps you from living fully in His love?

Closing Prayer:

Lord Jesus, You are the Resurrection and the Life. In the places where we are dead or bound, speak Your word of life. Help us to trust even when we do not understand. Teach us to pray, to listen, and to discern what the Father is doing. Call us out of the tomb and give us the grace to respond. May we be unbound by fear and live in the freedom of Your love.
Amen.

Day 32: The Hidden Work of God

Scripture Reading (Jerusalem Bible):

Jeremiah 11:18–20
The Lord revealed it to me; I was warned.
O Lord, that was when You opened my eyes to their scheming.
I for my part was like a trustful lamb being led to the slaughter,
not knowing the schemes they were plotting against me.
“Let us destroy the tree in its strength,
cut him off from the land of the living,
so that his name may be quickly forgotten.”
But You, O Lord of hosts, who judge justly,
who test the heart and mind,
let me see Your vengeance upon them,
for to You I have committed my cause.

Reflection:

Jeremiah’s lament foreshadows the suffering of Christ. Like a lamb led to the slaughter, he entrusts his life to God even as he is surrounded by betrayal and injustice. It’s a reminder that God’s faithful ones are not immune to suffering—and sometimes the most difficult moments are the ones no one else sees.

This hidden suffering—the kind that doesn’t always come with answers—can be the most spiritually fruitful. It invites us into the interior work of trust, surrender, and deep listening. It is the refining fire where God’s grace silently goes to work.

Even the Blessed Virgin Mary knew this path well. At the Finding in the Temple, she did not understand why Jesus had remained behind, but we’re told she “kept all these things in her heart” (Luke 2:51). Her quiet pondering is not passive—it is the active trust of a heart that says yes, even without clarity. Mary reminds us that part of the Christian life is carrying unanswered questions with peace, knowing God is still present and working.

There are times in life when we must keep going in faith, even when our hearts feel weary or our path unclear. These are the moments when silent prayer, especially before the Blessed Sacrament, becomes essential. This hidden work—of listening, of remaining, of trusting—is how saints are formed.

The Desert Father Abba Isaiah said:

“It is better to struggle in silence before God than to be praised for words that do not touch the soul.”
(Apophthegmata Patrum, Isaiah 1)

And St. Elizabeth of the Trinity, a great Carmelite mystic, wrote:

“Let yourself be loved more than these… Let yourself be loved: that is everything.”
(Letter 252)

Lent invites us into this mystery. We are not always called to do more, but to let God love us in the silence. In the hidden places of our lives, His grace is at work. Our part is to stay open, to keep returning, and to say yes—even in the quiet.

Reflection Questions:

1. Are there areas of your life where you feel unseen or misunderstood?
2. How can you imitate Mary’s trust in moments that lack clarity?
3. What does “letting yourself be loved” by God look like for you today?

Closing Prayer:

Lord, You see the hidden places of my heart. In moments when I do not understand, help me to trust. Teach me to rest in Your love, even when the path ahead is unclear. May I, like Mary, hold Your Word in my heart and ponder it with faith.

Amen.

Day 31: Walking with Christ: The Path of Love and Sacrifice

Scripture Reading (Jerusalem Bible):

Wisdom 2:1a, 12–22
The godless say to themselves, with their misguided reasoning: “Let us lie in wait for the virtuous man, since he annoys us and opposes our way of life, reproaches us for our sins against the Law, and accuses us of sins against our upbringing. He claims to have knowledge of God and calls himself a child of the Lord. His presence is a reproof to us; the very sight of him weighs us down. His life is not like others, and his ways are different. He considers us counterfeit and avoids our ways as unclean. He calls the final end of good people blessed and boasts that God is his Father. Let us see if what he says is true; let us test what will happen at the end of his life. For if the virtuous man is God’s son, God will help him and rescue him from the hands of his enemies. Let us test him with insult and torture to see how gentle he is and how patient. Let us condemn him to a shameful death, since he says that he will be protected.”

This is how they reason, but they are misled, for their wickedness has blinded them. They do not know the secrets of God, nor do they hope for holiness as a reward, nor believe in the reward of a blameless soul.

Reflection:

On this Lenten Friday, the Church invites us to walk more intentionally with Christ on the road to Calvary. It is a day marked by fasting, by abstaining from meat, and by the tradition of praying the Stations of the Cross—a spiritual pilgrimage that draws us into the mystery of Jesus’ suffering and love.

And so they scheme to silence him. This ancient cry echoes forward into the Passion of Jesus. The cross was not an accident of history—it was foretold, endured, and ultimately transformed into the instrument of our salvation.

Fridays in Lent are not just about sacrifice—they are about remembering. We remember the One who gave Himself for us. We unite our own sufferings, fears, and sacrifices with His. And through the Stations of the Cross, we meditate not just on pain, but on love—a love that bore all things for our sake.

Spending time with the Stations, even briefly, can be a deeply healing prayer. Each station offers a window into Christ’s heart—and an invitation into our own. We see Him fall, and we reflect on the ways we stumble. We watch Him meet His Mother, and we are reminded of those who walk with us in sorrow. We stand before the Cross and let the silence teach us how to love.

There are days—especially in the middle of Lent—when life feels more like a drain than a fountain, and our inner well runs dry. But the Christian life is not about pretending we are strong—it’s about discovering that in our weakness, Christ comes with grace. Prayer is how we return to the source. When our souls are parched, we are invited to return again to the font of living water.

Through silent listening, Scripture reflection, the Examen prayer, Eucharistic Adoration, and most profoundly the Sacraments—especially Reconciliation and the Eucharist—our hearts are opened. In these spaces, we learn not to flee pain, but to walk through it with Jesus. Love doesn’t mean comfort. Love means presence. It means patience. It means bearing all things, as Christ bore all for us.

The Desert Fathers knew this inner path of transformation. Abba Longinus once said:

“If you have not been crucified with Christ, you cannot be glorified with Him. Let the cross be your teacher in all things.” (Apophthegmata Patrum, Longinus 3)

And St. Alphonsus Liguori, the great spiritual writer and founder of the Redemptorists, wrote:

“He who desires nothing but God is rich and happy. He who loves the cross and follows Christ will find peace, even in suffering.” (The Way of the Cross, Meditation 14)

As we abstain today, as we pray the Stations, let us not rush past the pain. Let us bring our own crosses, questions, and longings to Christ—and walk with Him a little further.

Reflection Questions:

1. Have you ever prayed the Stations of the Cross? What spoke to you most?
2. How do you respond to moments of pain, rejection, or misunderstanding?
3. What would it mean to walk more closely with Christ in His suffering today?

Closing Prayer:

Lord Jesus, today we remember the road You walked for our salvation. As we carry our own burdens, help us to unite them with Yours. Through prayer, fasting, and the Stations of the Cross, teach us how to love as You love. May we not fear the cross, but find in it the door to Your heart.
Amen.