Reflecting Him

Daily Reflection – 2/26/2026

Sacred Scripture

Jesus said to his disciples: “Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks, receives; and the one who seeks, finds; and to the one who knocks, the door will be opened. Which one of you would hand his son a stone when he asked for a loaf of bread, or a snake when he asked for a fish? If you then, who are wicked, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your heavenly Father give good things to those who ask him. Do to others whatever you would have them do to you. This is the law and the prophets.”( Matthew 7:7-12).

Reflection

There is a gentleness woven through today’s Gospel that reveals the heart of God more clearly than almost any other passage. Jesus invites us into a posture of trust: “Ask… seek… knock…” These are not the words of a distant deity. They are the words of a Father who wants His children to come close. Jesus is not describing a God who must be convinced to care, but a God who already delights in giving what is good.

We often approach prayer with hesitation. We wonder if our needs are too small, our desires too messy, our hearts too inconsistent. We fear that God will be disappointed, or silent, or unmoved. But Jesus dismantles that fear. He tells us plainly that the Father responds—not reluctantly, not sparingly, but generously. “Which one of you would hand his son a stone when he asks for bread?” Jesus is not appealing to our perfection; He is appealing to our humanity. If even flawed human love knows how to give good gifts, how much more does God?

This passage is not a blank check for whatever we want. It is a promise that God will always give what leads us toward life. Bread, not stones. Fish, not serpents. Grace, not harm. Sometimes the gift looks different from what we expected, but it is always shaped by love. God’s answers are not always the ones we imagined, but they are always the ones we need.

Asking, seeking, and knocking are not three separate tasks. They are the rhythm of a heart learning to trust. Asking is vulnerability. Seeking is desire. Knocking is persistence. Together they form a posture of openness—a willingness to let God meet us where we are, not where we pretend to be.

To love Him is to trust His heart.
To live Him is to approach Him with confidence.
To love Him is to believe He listens.
To live Him is to let His generosity shape our own.

When we pray, we are not trying to get God’s attention. We already have it. We are not trying to persuade Him to care. He already does. Prayer is not about changing God’s mind; it is about opening our hearts to receive what He longs to give.

The Father who invites us to ask is already near. The Father who invites us to seek is already searching for us. The Father who invites us to knock is already standing at the door.

He knows what we need before we speak. He knows what will heal us before we ask. He knows the path to life even when we cannot see it.

And still—He invites us to come.

Prayer of The Day

Lord Jesus, give me the courage to ask, the humility to seek, and the trust to knock. Help me believe in the Father’s goodness even when I do not understand His ways. Shape my heart so that in loving You, I may live You. Amen.

Daily Note

God’s generosity meets us not only in the answer, but in the asking itself.

Daily Reflection – 2/25/2026

Sacred Scripture

While still more people gathered in the crowd, Jesus said to them, “This generation is an evil generation; it seeks a sign, but no sign will be given it, except the sign of Jonah. Just as Jonah became a sign to the Ninevites, so will the Son of Man be to this generation. At the judgment the queen of the south will rise with the men of this generation and she will condemn them, because she came from the ends of the earth to hear the wisdom of Solomon, and there is something greater than Solomon here. At the judgment the men of Nineveh will arise with this generation and condemn it, because at the preaching of Jonah they repented, and there is something greater than Jonah here.” (Luke 11:29-32)

Reflection

In today’s Gospel, Jesus speaks to a crowd that has gathered around Him, hungry for spectacle but resistant to conversion. They ask for signs, though signs have already been given. They want proof, but only the kind of proof that fits their expectations. They want a Messiah, but only the kind of Messiah they have already imagined. And so Jesus names the truth plainly: “This generation is an evil generation; it seeks a sign.” Not because they are uniquely wicked, but because they are deeply human — prone to wanting God on their own terms.

The people of Jesus’ time had witnessed healings, exorcisms, and miracles of abundance. Yet they dismissed them because they did not align with their political hopes or personal desires. They wanted liberation from Rome, not liberation from sin. They wanted a kingdom restored, not a heart renewed. They wanted a Messiah who would confirm their worldview, not transform it.

And in that sense, Jesus is speaking not only to His generation, but to every generation — including ours.

We, too, can fall into the habit of seeking signs that validate what we already believe. We want God to fix the world in the ways we prefer, to silence the voices we dislike, to bless the choices we’ve already made. We want a Savior who aligns with our opinions, not one who calls us to repentance, humility, and love.

Jesus reminds us that the only sign we truly need is the sign of Jonah — the sign of a God who calls us back, who invites us to turn around, who offers mercy before judgment. Jonah preached repentance, and the Ninevites — outsiders, foreigners, sinners — responded with open hearts. Jesus stands before His own people offering something far greater: not just a prophet’s warning, but God’s own presence, God’s own wisdom, God’s own love.

And still, many turned away.

It is easy to shake our heads at them, but the Gospel invites us to look inward. How often do we relegate Jesus to the margins of our lives? How often do we fill our minds with noise, anger, and division, while leaving little room for the quiet voice of God? How often do we carry signs of resentment instead of the cross of Christ? How often do our words — online, in conversation, in judgment — fail to reflect the One we claim to follow?

Jesus came to build a kingdom where every person’s dignity is honored, where love is the measure of greatness, where mercy triumphs over pride. He came to gather, not scatter; to heal, not divide; to lift up, not tear down. And He calls us to do the same.

To love Him is to live Him.

To love Him is to let His presence shape our choices, soften our judgments, steady our hearts, and guide our steps. To love Him is to become, in our own imperfect way, a living sign of His mercy in a world still searching for proof.

God searches our hearts not to condemn us, but to free us. He invites us to single‑hearted devotion — to desire Him above all else, to let His Spirit reshape our priorities, to let His wisdom guide our choices. When we live with eternity in view, our daily lives become steadier, clearer, more rooted in peace.

The sign has already been given.
Christ stands before us.
The question is whether we will listen.

Prayer of The Day

“Lord Jesus, give me a heart that loves what is good and in accord with your will and fill me with your wisdom that I may understand your ways. Give me the grace and the courage to reject whatever is evil and contrary to your will.”

Daily Note

Let your life become the sign — a quiet, steady witness that Christ is already here.
To love Him is to live Him.

Daily Reflection – 2/24/2026

Sacred Scripture

Jesus said to his disciples: “In praying, do not babble like the pagans, who think that they will be heard because of their many words. Do not be like them. Your Father knows what you need before you ask him. This is how you are to pray: Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name, thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread; and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us; and lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil.’ If you forgive men their transgressions, your heavenly Father will forgive you. But if you do not forgive men, neither will your Father forgive your transgressions.” (Matthew 6:7-15)

Reflection

There is a quiet danger in familiarity. When something becomes woven into the rhythm of our days, our minds drift toward the memory of the words rather than the meaning behind them. The Lord’s Prayer is perhaps the clearest example of this. We recite it so often that we forget its depth, its beauty, and its astonishing simplicity. Yet this prayer is not merely familiar; it is foundational. It is the only prayer Jesus Himself taught us. That alone should stop us, steady us, and draw us into reverence.

But Jesus did not give us the Lord’s Prayer so we could master divine language. He gave it to us so we could understand the heart of God. This is why the Lord’s Prayer is, at its core, a prayer of love — expressed by the Father toward His children, and love we are called to mirror in the way we live, forgive, and walk with one another.

The very first word reveals the entire posture of the prayer: Our. Not “My Father,” but “Our Father.” From the opening breath, Jesus binds us together. We are not isolated believers approaching God alone; we are a family approaching our Father as one. In that single pronoun, Jesus dismantles pride, comparison, and self‑importance. We belong to God, and we belong to each other. We cannot pray this prayer honestly while holding ourselves above or apart from anyone else.

From there, Jesus teaches us to honor God’s name, God’s kingdom, and God’s will. Before we ask for anything, we bless Him. We acknowledge His holiness, His sovereignty, and His goodness. Only then do we turn to our own needs — and even here, Jesus keeps us grounded. “Give us this day our daily bread.” Not abundance. Not excess. Simply what we need to live the life He has given us. There is no ego in this petition, no pride, no self‑reliance. It is the humble acknowledgment that life itself is a gift, and we depend on the Giver.

But the heart of the prayer — the part Jesus emphasizes with unmistakable clarity — is forgiveness. We ask the Father to forgive us as we forgive others. Jesus makes the connection unavoidable: if we refuse to forgive, we cannot receive forgiveness. Not because God withholds it, but because our hearts cannot hold what they will not give. Forgiveness is not optional; it is the very shape of Christian love. It is the way we imitate Christ, who forgave again and again, even from the cross.

Today, perhaps we can pray the Lord’s Prayer not from memory but from love — slowly, consciously, deliberately. Jesus knows us intimately. He walks with us daily. If we pray this prayer with intention, we may discover not only peace but the gentle, healing presence of the One who taught it.

Prayer of The Day

“Lord Jesus Christ, You have taught us how to pray and why we must forgive. Manifest Your presence in our hearts so we may forgive others unconditionally and allow Your goodness to triumph over all darkness.”

Daily Note

The Lord’s Prayer is the perfect model of how to approach God. Jesus insists on forgiveness because it is through forgiveness that love grows strong among us.

Daily Reflection – 2/20/2026

Sacred Scripture

The disciples of John approached Jesus and said, “Why do we and the Pharisees fast much, but your disciples do not fast?” Jesus answered them, “Can the wedding guests mourn as long as the bridegroom is with them? The days will come when the bridegroom is taken away from them, and then they will fast.” (Matthew 9:14-15)

Reflection

Fasting is as old as our faith and as new as this very moment. In a single exchange, Jesus reaches across centuries of spiritual practice and shows us that fasting is not a relic of the past but a living discipline meant to shape our hearts today. John’s disciples weren’t trying to trap Him; they were genuinely puzzled. They saw the Pharisees fasting. They themselves were fasting. Yet Jesus’ disciples seemed untouched by the discipline. So they approached Him with sincerity and asked why His followers weren’t fasting like everyone else.

Jesus doesn’t dismiss fasting. He dignifies their question and reframes the entire practice. He tells them the issue isn’t fasting itself — it’s the timing and the motivation. While the Bridegroom is with them, joy is the proper response. But when He is taken away, fasting becomes the way His followers stay united to Him, strengthened by Him, and engaged in His saving work.

This is where the heart of the Gospel opens.
Our fasting is not a private battle against temptation.
It is not a spiritual diet.
It is not a performance or a badge of holiness.

Our fasting is participation — Jesus fighting in us, for us, and through us. It is the Church, the Bride, joining her Bridegroom in His mission to conquer evil and rescue souls. In fasting, we enter into the very work of Christ, allowing Him to reshape our desires until they mirror His own.

And then God, through the prophet Isaiah, tells us exactly what He hungers for: releasing those bound unjustly, setting free the oppressed, breaking every yoke, sharing bread with the hungry, sheltering the homeless, clothing the naked, and caring for our own families. This is the fast God desires. This is the hunger He wants to awaken in us.

At the beginning of Lent, we are reminded that fasting is meant to unite us with those who fast every day not by religious choice but by poverty and circumstance. It is meant to sharpen our compassion, yes — but also to move us to action. The food we skip is not meant to sit in our refrigerator for tomorrow. It is meant to feed someone who has nothing today.

Fasting is not about emptying our stomachs.
It is about emptying our hearts of indifference.

The purpose of fasting is to unite the parts of us that do not yet hunger for what God hungers for. God wants us to desire justice, mercy, and compassion with the same intensity as someone who hasn’t eaten in days desires bread. He wants our hearts to ache for the oppressed, to burn for the hungry, to move toward the imprisoned, the forgotten, the overlooked.

This is the deifying work of God — the slow, holy transformation by which our desires become His desires, our hunger becomes His hunger, and our hearts beat in rhythm with His own.

Prayer of The Day

“Lord Jesus, draw me into the fast You desire. Empty me of indifference and fill me with Your hunger for justice, mercy, and compassion. Let my fasting unite me to those who suffer and awaken in me a deeper love for Your people. Shape my desires until they mirror Your own, and make my heart burn for what Your heart burns for. Amen.”

Daily Note

Fasting is not about what we give up — it’s about what God awakens in us.

Daily Reflection – 2/19/2026

Sacred Scripture

Jesus said to his disciples: “The Son of Man must suffer greatly and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed and on the third day be raised. Then he said to all, “If anyone wishes to come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me. For whoever wishes to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will save it. What profit is there for one to gain the whole world yet lose or forfeit himself?” (Luke 9:22-25)

Reflection

Well, that’s pretty challenging on the second day of Lent! Jesus reminds us that if we lose our life for His sake, our life will be saved.

Lose our life? In today’s culture? Sure, sounds as if it is contra to all that society teaches us, right? Aren’t we supposed to be self-sufficient? Aren’t we supposed to climb the ladder of success? Aren’t we supposed to buy into the barrage of advertising that centers on doing things and buying things that make our SELVES more attractive? And then we are supposed to carry a cross?

Yes, and that’s the hard part for many people. That’s usually where we run into our stumbling blocks on being true disciples of Christ. We want Salvation. We want eternal happiness. But we don’t want to have to do anything hard to get there. Nowhere in the Bible does Jesus say, just be a good person and you’re in. Nowhere does he say, just say a few magic words and you’re in. Nope. He’s always talking about us having to do things. Things like, having faith. Things like living for others. Things like forgiving others.

For those who want to walk with him, Christ’s call is radical and unequivocal. He asks us to “renounce” ourselves. This is a difficult word for the mentality of today. It does not mean that we must deny what we are. We are called to abandon that part of ourselves that goes against the life of Christ and his teachings. With verse 25, we understand clearly that Jesus does not ask us to lose ourselves. He rather invites us to discover our true self by following him. It is not by a lukewarm and lazy attitude, but only with all their heart and all their strength that His disciples can follow the path of the Master.

In fact, if we walk in the footsteps of Christ, now just as at the time of the Apostles, it is inevitable that we will have to have to swim against the tide and, at times, become a “sign of contradiction” in society. For fear of losing face or security, will we turn back before the various obstacles, or move forward with confidence, audacity and the gift of ourselves? It is true that his call is demanding. But to those who give themselves because of Christ and the Gospel, the joy and the rewards promised are offered a hundredfold (see Mark 10:28-30).

And yes, we, too, must take up our crosses and follow Him. Each one of us will have his or her own cross to carry, and that will vary from time to time. Whatever our particular cross we, like Jesus, must lose ourselves in generous self-giving, rather being self-centered in trying to grab as much as possible for ourselves. Serving other people’s interests rather than our own will bring out the very best in us.

Each day we must die to sin and rise to new life. That involves repenting for the sins we’ve already committed, and then resisting temptations to sin in the future. Following Christ is certainly demanding, but for Jesus and for us the way of the cross leads to eternal happiness and glory. That makes it all worthwhile.

Prayer of The Day

“Lord Jesus, I give you my hands to do your work. I give you my feet to go your way. I give you my eyes to see as you do. I give you my tongue to speak your words. I give you my mind that you may think in me. I give you my spirit that you may pray in me. Above all, I give you my heart that you may love in me, your Father, and all mankind. I give you my whole self that you may grow in me, so that it is you, Lord Jesus, who live and work and pray in me.”

Daily Note

The cross you carry today is not meant to break you — it’s meant to reveal you.

Daily Reflection – 2/18/2026

Sacred Scripture

Jesus said to his disciples: “Take care not to perform righteous deeds in order that people may see them; otherwise, you will have no recompense from your heavenly Father. When you give alms, do not blow a trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets to win the praise of others. Amen, I say to you, they have received their reward. But when you give alms, do not let your left hand know what your right is doing, so that your almsgiving may be secret. And your Father who sees in secret will repay you. When you pray, do not be like the hypocrites, who love to stand and pray in the synagogues and on street corners so that others may see them. Amen, I say to you, they have received their reward. But when you pray, go to your inner room, close the door, and pray to your Father in secret. And your Father who sees in secret will repay you. When you fast, do not look gloomy like the hypocrites. They neglect their appearance, so that they may appear to others to be fasting. Amen, I say to you, they have received their reward. But when you fast, anoint your head and wash your face, so that you may not appear to be fasting, except to your Father who is hidden. And your Father who sees what is hidden will repay you.” (Matthew 6:1-6, 16-18)

Reflection

Lent begins not with a demand, but with an invitation.

Matthew 6:1–6, 16–18 is Jesus’ gentle reminder that the spiritual life is not a stage and God is not an audience. He knows our tendency to drift toward self‑focus, to measure our worth by what others see, to turn even holy practices into subtle performances. And so He calls us back to the quiet places — the secret places — where the heart can breathe again.

This passage is traditionally read on the threshold of Lent because it reorients us before we take a single step. Jesus is not asking us to punish ourselves or prove our devotion. He is inviting us to return to intimacy with the Father. Prayer, fasting, and almsgiving are not spiritual hurdles to clear; they are pathways that lead us back to God. They interrupt the routines that numb us. They loosen the grip of habits that quietly shape us. They create space where God can speak and we can finally hear.

When we pray more intentionally, we step out of the noise and into the presence of the One who knows us. When we fast, even in small ways, we discover that our appetites do not define us and our impulses do not rule us. When we give, we remember that generosity is not loss but freedom. These practices are not meant to weigh us down. They are meant to wake us up.

Lent is the season that breaks the routine long enough for us to ask the questions we avoid when life moves too quickly: Who am I becoming? What have I taken for granted? What needs to change? Where have I grown lukewarm? What part of my heart has drifted into hiding? These questions are not meant to shame us. They are meant to free us. They open the door to the renewal God longs to give.

Three times in this passage, Jesus assures us that “your Father who sees in secret will repay you.” This is not a transactional promise. It is a relational one. God sees the quiet effort, the hidden struggle, the small sacrifice, the desire beneath the discipline. And He responds not with reward, but with renewal — a renewal of heart, of clarity, of compassion, of purpose.

Lent is not about earning God’s love. It is about making room to receive it. It is not about proving our holiness. It is about rediscovering our dependence. It is not about obligation. It is about an invitation to return, to listen, to soften, to be reshaped from the inside out.

As this holy season begins, step into it with openness rather than dread, with expectancy rather than fear. The Father who sees in secret is already waiting there.

Prayer of The Day

“Lord Jesus, give me a lively faith, a firm hope, a fervent charity, and a great love of you. Take from me all lukewarmness in the meditation of your word, and dullness in prayer. Give me fervor and delight in thinking of you and your grace, and fill me with compassion for others, especially those in need, that I may respond with generosity”.

Daily Note

The Lord gives us spiritual food and supernatural strength to walk the path before us. Lent is not a test of endurance; it is a preparation for transformation. As you begin this season, ask Jesus for a fresh outpouring of His Spirit — the strength to fast with humility, to pray with sincerity, and to give with compassion. The way of the cross is not easy, but it is the way that leads to life. May this season awaken in you a deeper faith, a steadier hope, and a renewed love that reflects the heart of Christ.

Daily Reflection – 2/17/2026

Sacred Scripture

The disciples had forgotten to bring bread, and they had only one loaf with them in the boat. Jesus enjoined them, “Watch out, guard against the leaven of the Pharisees and the leaven of Herod.” They concluded among themselves that it was because they had no bread. When he became aware of this he said to them, “Why do you conclude that it is because you have no bread? Do you not yet understand or comprehend? Are your hearts hardened? Do you have eyes and not see, ears and not hear? And do you not remember, when I broke the five loaves for the five thousand, how many wicker baskets full of fragments you picked up?” They answered him, “Twelve.” “When I broke the seven loaves for the four thousand, how many full baskets of fragments did you pick up?” They answered him, “Seven.” He said to them, “Do you still not understand?” (Mark 8:14-21)

Reflection

There is a moment in today’s Gospel when Jesus sounds almost weary — not angry, not condemning, but heart‑tired in the way love grows tired when it keeps offering itself and isn’t yet received. The disciples are worried about bread, and Jesus is trying to give them something far greater: a way of seeing, a way of trusting, a way of living that begins and ends in God.

His warning about the “leaven of the Pharisees” isn’t about doctrine or ritual. It’s about what rises inside a person when the wrong things feed the heart. The Pharisees and Sadducees let pride, self‑certainty, and spiritual self‑reliance ferment within them. Their hearts rose with their own counsel, not with the wisdom of God. And because of that, they could not recognize the One standing before them.

Jesus wants a different leaven in us — the leaven of faith.
Faith that grows quietly.
Faith that softens the heart.
Faith that makes room for trust.

But trust is hard when life has taught us to protect ourselves. As we age, we often become more cautious, more skeptical, more “realistic.” We call it wisdom, but sometimes it is simply fear wearing a wiser face. We become sharp in worldly calculations and dull in spiritual sight.

Why does this happen?
Why do we, like the disciples, miss what is right in front of us?

We misunderstand when we live distracted lives.
The disciples were worried about what they lacked. They forgot Who was in the boat with them. We do the same. We get so caught up in what we fear we don’t have that we overlook the God who has never failed to give us what we truly need.

We misunderstand when we measure everything by ourselves.
When the first question of the heart is “What does this mean for me,” our vision shrinks. We lose the horizon of God’s purposes. We become trapped inside our own small calculations.

We misunderstand when we forget what God has already done.
Grace has carried us farther than we ever deserved, yet we treat yesterday’s blessings as expired. Gratitude fades, and fear rushes in to fill the space.

Jesus’ question — “Do you still not understand?” — is not a scolding. It is an invitation.
A gentle, piercing invitation to remember.

Remember who has been in your boat. Remember who multiplied what you thought was not enough. Remember who has never abandoned you, even when your trust faltered.

A heart rooted in Christ does not panic at scarcity.
A soul anchored in His faithfulness does not collapse under fear.
A mind shaped by His presence sees differently — more clearly, more truthfully, more lovingly.

If God has brought us this far with only partial cooperation on our part, imagine what He could do with a heart fully yielded. Imagine the peace that would rise. Imagine the good that would flourish. Imagine the burdens that would finally loosen under His hand.

Jesus is not asking for perfection. He is asking for trust. He is asking for memory. He is asking for a heart willing to see again.

Prayer of The Day

“Lord, grant me the grace to trust You more deeply, to remember Your faithfulness, and to let Your love shape my vision. Make my heart the place where Your leaven of faith can rise.”

Daily Note

Mark shows us that the disciples’ greatest struggle was not ignorance but vision — how they interpreted what they saw. The cure is always the same: Jesus Himself. His touch, His presence, His teaching, even His rebuke — but most of all His unwavering faithfulness to disciples who were sometimes nearsighted, sometimes confused, sometimes afraid. He is just as faithful to us.

Daily Reflection – 2/16/2026

Sacred Scripture

The Pharisees came and began to argue with him, asking him for a sign from heaven, to test him. And he sighed deeply in his spirit and said, “Why does this generation ask for a sign? Truly I tell you, no sign will be given to this generation.” And he left them, and getting into the boat again, he went across to the other side. (Mark 8:11-13)

Reflection

Mark 8:11–13 is a short passage, but it carries a weight that presses directly on the human heart. The Pharisees demand a sign from Jesus, not because they want to believe, but because they refuse to trust unless God performs on their terms. Jesus sighs from the depths of His spirit and walks away. It is one of the most sobering moments in the Gospel: the Son of God standing before them, and they cannot see Him because they are too busy looking for something else.

And if we’re honest, we know that feeling. We, too, hunger for signs.

The Christian mystics teach that the spiritual life moves in two currents: consolation and desolation. God gives both. In consolation, everything feels aligned. Prayer flows. Gratitude rises easily. We sense God’s nearness like sunlight warming our skin. These moments are gifts—pure grace.

But then the season shifts. The warmth fades. The heart feels barren, dry, unresponsive. We pray, and the words fall flat. We seek God, and He seems to step back into the shadows.

This is the moment when many of us begin to look for signs again.“ Lord, show me something. Give me a feeling. Give me a word. Give me proof.”

But here is the paradox the mystics understood: the absence of signs is itself a sign.
God’s silence is not abandonment. It is invitation.

In desolation, God gently asks us to remember why we chose to follow Him in the first place. Was it because of the gifts—or because of the Giver? Was it the sweetness of prayer—or the One who listens? Was it the miracle or the Miracle‑Worker?

Only in dryness do we learn to distinguish the sign from the Savior.

St. Teresa of Ávila kept a simple bookmark in her prayer book, and on it she wrote:

“All things pass; God never changes.
Whoever has God lacks nothing.
God alone suffices.”

That is the wisdom Jesus longed for the Pharisees to understand. That is the wisdom He longs for us to embrace.

The Cross is the only sign we ever truly needed. On it, Jesus opened the floodgates of mercy, forgiveness, and eternal life. Everything else is commentary.

When we live in that truth—really live in it — we can savor the moments of consolation without clinging to them, and we can walk through desolation without fear. We can whisper to ourselves each morning:

“I am surrounded by God’s love. It is my shield. It strengthens me. I am never alone, for He holds me.”

I wish I could pray those words with you right now. But even in silence, God is praying them over you.

The absence of signs is not a punishment. It is the quiet doorway into deeper faith.

It is Christ inviting us to trust Him simply because He is God—and because He is good.

Prayer of The Day

“Lord Jesus, thank You for the signs You have already placed before me — especially the Sign of the Cross, where You poured out Your life so that I may know eternal life. Teach my heart to trust You not only in moments of consolation, but also in the quiet spaces where You seem hidden. Deepen my faith so that I recognize Your presence in the real, steady ways You have already moved in my life. Help me to follow You not for the signs, but for who You are — my Savior, my strength, and my constant companion. Amen.”

Daily Note

Discipleship takes time, courage, and a willingness to walk even when the path feels dim. The disciples were slow to “get Jesus,” and so are we — even with the gift of the Resurrection and the Holy Spirit within us. True faith is not built on signs; it’s built on trust. Today, practice believing without demanding proof. Let your heart rest in the truth that God is present, even when He feels silent. That is the faith that matures us, strengthens us, and draws us closer to Christ.

Daily Reflection – 2/13/2026

Sacred Scripture

Jesus left the district of Tyre and went by way of Sidon to the Sea of Galilee, into the district of the Decapolis. And people brought to him a deaf man who had a speech impediment and begged him to lay his hand on him. He took him off by himself away from the crowd. He put his finger into the man’s ears and, spitting, touched his tongue; then he looked up to Heaven and groaned, and said to him, “Ephphatha!” (that is, “Be opened!”) And immediately the man’s ears were opened, his speech impediment was removed, and he spoke plainly. He ordered them not to tell anyone. But the more he ordered them not to, the more they proclaimed it. They were exceedingly astonished and they said, “He has done all things well. He makes the deaf hear and the mute speak.” (Mark 7:31-37)

Reflection

Today’s Gospel reveals once again the extraordinary tenderness of Jesus Christ — a tenderness that is not sentimental, but deeply attentive, deeply personal, and deeply transformative.

The man brought to Jesus could not hear and could barely speak. He lived in a world of muffled sound and limited expression. And Jesus, seeing him, does something remarkable: He takes him aside, away from the crowd, into a private space where healing can happen without spectacle. Jesus adapts Himself to the man’s reality. He does not speak first — because words would fall on ears that cannot hear. Instead, He uses touch. He places His fingers in the man’s ears. He touches his tongue. He looks up to heaven and sighs — a sigh that carries compassion, longing, and divine power. Then He speaks a single word: Ephphatha — “Be opened.”

This is tenderness in action. This is love that adjusts itself to the needs of the one before Him. This is compassion that sees not just the condition, but the person.

And it is a model for us.

How often do we step outside of ourselves long enough to truly enter the life of another? How often do we pause the noise of our own fears, insecurities, and preoccupations to notice what someone else might be carrying?

Kindness is not merely being polite.
Kindness is seeing.
Kindness is entering.
Kindness is responding to the quiet needs of another with gentleness and care.

When was the last time you tried to understand what was happening inside your spouse — not just what they said, but what they felt? When was the last time you looked at your child and recognized the insecurity behind the behavior, and spoke words that affirmed their goodness and worth? When was the last time you saw a gift in a coworker and encouraged it into the light?

These are not small gestures.
These are acts of kindness — and kindness is never insignificant. Kindness is the language the deaf can hear and the blind can read. Kindness cuts through fear, posturing, indifference, and self‑protection.

Yes, there are moments that require challenge or tough love. But when we are unsure, when the path is not clear, when the situation is ambiguous, the Gospel gives us a simple compass: “Whenever in doubt, do the kind thing.”

And why? Because Christians are called to a deeper hearing — a hearing shaped by faith. We believe God is active in the world. We believe God is building a kingdom of goodness, mercy, and peace. We believe God is near, speaking, healing, restoring.

If we are not hearing good news, if we are overwhelmed by fear or hopelessness, perhaps it is because our ears have grown dull. Perhaps we need to hear Jesus speak that same word to us: “Be opened.”

Be opened to the presence of God around you.
Be opened to the needs of others.
Be opened to the quiet invitations of grace.
Be opened to the possibility that God is doing more than you can see.

Jesus “does all things well.” Follow His example. Be a person of kindness, of compassion, of deep listening. Peer inside another and be for them what God is for you — a presence of mercy, tenderness, and love.

Prayer of The Day

“Lord Jesus, fill me with your Holy Spirit and inflame my heart with love and compassion. Make me attentive to the needs of others that I may show them kindness and care. Make me an instrument of your mercy and peace that I may help others find healing and wholeness in you.”

Daily Note

What we believe shapes what we hear. If we are not hearing good news, perhaps our hearts have grown closed. Jesus speaks to us today the same word He spoke to the deaf man: “Be opened.” Be opened to grace. Be opened to healing. Be opened to the God who is already at work around you, making noise as He builds His kingdom. Trust that He can remove your fear, your grief, your pride, your hurt — and open you to the fullness of His love.

Daily Reflection – 2/12/2026

Sacred Scripture

Jesus went to the district of Tyre. He entered a house and wanted no one to know about it, but he could not escape notice. Soon a woman whose daughter had an unclean spirit heard about him. She came and fell at his feet. The woman was a Greek, a Syrophoenician by birth, and she begged him to drive the demon out of her daughter. He said to her, “Let the children be fed first. For it is not right to take the food of the children and throw it to the dogs.” She replied and said to him, “Lord, even the dogs under the table eat the children’s scraps.” Then he said to her, “For saying this, you may go. The demon has gone out of your daughter.” When the woman went home, she found the child lying in bed and the demon gone. (Mark 7:24-30)

Reflection

Reflection (Poetic Version)

Faith.
A single syllable carrying the weight of eternity. A word worn thin by overuse, yet still pulsing with the power to steady a trembling heart and open the door to God.

We hear it everywhere —
in locker rooms, in campaign speeches, in commercials promising things they can’t deliver.
But beneath all that noise, faith remains what it has always been: the quiet courage to reach for God even when the world tells you not to.

And today, a Gentile mother shows us what that courage looks like.

She comes to Jesus with a heart cracked open by love. No credentials. No standing. No reason to believe she should be heard. But love pushes her forward and desperation becomes her prayer.

She absorbs the silence. She endures the rebuff. She refuses to retreat. Because when your child is hurting, you will walk through fire if it means touching the hem of hope.

She doesn’t ask for a miracle on her terms. She doesn’t demand a place at the table.
She simply asks for a crumb — because she knows that even a fragment of God’s goodness
is enough to heal what is broken.

Her faith becomes a lantern in the dark. It glows brightest in the shadows of uncertainty. it strengthens under the weight of sorrow. It teaches us that faith is not the absence of struggle
but the decision to cling to God while the storm rages on.

Her faith is not self‑centered. It is intercession. It is love stretched wide. It is a mother standing in the gap for a child who cannot stand for herself. And in a world aching for compassion,
her persistence becomes a holy echo. She kneels — not in defeat, but in surrender. Her humility is not weakness; it is the soil where trust takes root.

And she endures. Oh, how she endures. Like the widow before the unjust judge, she keeps knocking, keeps hoping, keeps believing that the heart of God is kinder than the world around her.

And she is right. Her daughter is healed. Her faith is honored. Her story becomes a beacon for every soul who has ever whispered a desperate prayer into the silence.

We need that reminder. We need that kind of faith — the kind that clings to the Great Physician, the One who mends bodies and souls, the One who sees us, the One who answers.

Prayer of The Day

“Lord, your mercy stretches farther than our fear. Give me the courage of this woman —
the persistence that does not fade, the humility that opens the heart, the love that refuses to give up. Strengthen my faith when I falter, and draw me deeper into your healing grace.
Amen.”

Daily Note

Her faith grew simply by being near Jesus. She began with a plea, but she ended in worship.
And Scripture whispers this truth to us still: No one who seeks Him with faith —outsider or insider, broken or whole — is ever turned away. May we seek Him with that same expectant heart.