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Why clay, Lord?

  March 15 , 2026  Gospel: John 9:1–41 Lord, today I linger over that strange and tender moment in the Gospel.  You “spat on the ground, made clay with the saliva, and smeared the clay” on the blind man’s eyes. Then You told him to “go wash in the pool of Siloam.” Why clay and spittle, Lord? While I find it moving, it’s also physical and messy—forgive me for thinking so.  You could have healed him with a single word. Were You perhaps reminding us of something ancient—that we were formed from the dust of the earth? But as the story unfolds, I see that with that clay in Your hands, it is almost as if You are creating again, touching the place of darkness—the blindness of those who have eyes but refuse to see the truth—and shaping it into sight. Thank You, Jesus, for those moments You gently shed light on my blindness, and coming close to touch the very places where I cannot see. Sometimes Your grace feels uncomfortable, even humbling—like clay pressed over my...

Wherever Jesus entered

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  February 9, 2026
 Gospel: Mark 6:53–56 They recognized You Mark tells us that wherever You ent ered, Lord—villages, towns, countryside—people brought the sick and laid them in the marketplaces. They begged just to touch the tassel of Your cloak. And all who touched You were healed. There is something simple and unembarrassed about their faith. It needs no long explanations or theological arguments. They had heard and seen enough. And now they brought their need, with urgency and trust. And You did not avoid the crowds. You did not ration Your mercy; instead You allowed Yourself to be approached, to be touched and interrupted. You simply walked into ordinary places—and they became places of healing. How I wish I had lived in that time when just one touch of Your garment would make me whole again! Prayer: Jesus, forgive me if I forget You as I’m engulfed in deadlines and the affairs of the world. Please let me recognize You when You pass near. Give me the courage to bring Y...

Salt, light, hidden radiance

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 February 8, 2026 Gospel: Matthew 5:13–16      Lord Jesus, today You call us salt of the earth and light of the world.  Salt dissolves. Light simply shines.  Neither draws attention to itself—yet both change everything without fanfare. Salt disappears into what it seasons. It does not announce itself, yet without it something is missing. You ask for that kind of presence from Your followers—quiet faithfulness from day to day, and influence that does not insist on being noticed. Light does not argue with darkness. It simply shines and darkness retreats. You do not tell us to conquer the world, only not to hide what You have kindled. There is something liberating here. We can be salt and light without being extraordinary; we need only to remain close to You, so that what You have placed within us does not lose its savor or dim its flame. Prayer : Dear Jesus, bind my heart to Yours, that I may be salt without pride and light without self-display. _____...

Sheep without a shepherd

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February 7, 2026 Gospel: Mark 6:30–34 The crowds can’t seem to have enough of You today, Lord, and You are moved with compassion. The apostles have returned weary, burdened by the work of speaking and healing, yet You do not turn them aside. You see the deeper need: people scattered, seeking guidance, longing for care. Their hunger is not just for bread or healing, but for Someone to attend to their hearts. I recognize myself in those crowds. How often am I wandering, distracted, looking for direction, solace, or understanding? And yet You do not scold nor dismiss. You come close to gather, to teach. You allow the tired hands of Your disciples to rest while Your own heart stays attentive. Prayer: Lord Jesus, let me not rest in complacency—help me cultivate compassion that sees need before it cries out. Help me follow Your example, to attend to souls with gentle love. Teach me to notice the scattered, the weary, and those who are overlooked. Grant me patience that accompanies at You...