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SOCL, Lent4C

Updated: Mar 31


ree

Sunday March 30, 2025


The Prodigal's Paradox


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We build walls of success and correctness, thinking they protect us from uncertainty, only to end up trapped by them. The older brother’s perfect obedience became his prison—standing outside the celebration, right but alone. Meanwhile, the younger son's big failure opened a door to real connection in a way perfection never could. This is our shared mistake: believing we can earn what can only be given freely.


The father in this old story turns our idea of fairness upside down. He runs—undignified, without hesitation—not because his son deserves it, but because he doesn’t. Love doesn’t follow our calculations. We keep track; grace tears up the records. The younger son prepared a perfect apology, but it didn’t matter. The embrace came before any proof of change.


What if our biggest failures aren’t barriers but bridges? The younger son’s return home required the humility only failure can teach. The older brother’s perfect record left no room for that wisdom. Both needed to see the same truth: belonging was never about performance. The table was always set. The invitation always open. The only question was whether they would take their seats.


Listen



Reflect


(Luke 15:1-3, 11-32)


Consider when you've held yourself outside life's celebrations because you felt others didn't deserve what they received—what relationships remain unrestored because of your sense of fairness?


This story challenges our belief that we must earn acceptance—how might releasing your performance-based identity create space for authentic connections you've been missing?


What would change if you approached both your achievements and failures not as determining your worth but as different pathways leading to the same realization of being unconditionally loved?


Pray


Lord, your love defies our calculations. Help us recognize when we're standing outside the celebration. Give us courage to return when we've wandered far from home. Transform our ledger-keeping hearts into vessels of grace that extend to others the same unearned acceptance you lavish upon us. Amen.


References



 
 
 

SOCL, Lent3C

Updated: Mar 31


ree

Sunday March 23, 2025


Breaking the myth of deserved suffering


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We cling to cause-and-effect explanations for tragedy—believing those Galileans must have sinned greatly, that the crushed victims somehow deserved it—because randomness terrifies us more than judgment. This psychological defense mechanism creates the comforting illusion that good behavior guarantees safety. Meanwhile, fig trees stand barren in our lives: relationships without intimacy, careers without purpose, minds full of knowledge that never transforms action. We demand immediate results while nature whispers of slow cultivation and patience.


The gardener sees beyond current barrenness to potential abundance, demanding nothing but time and attention—the very resources we're most reluctant to invest. Our modern efficiency cuts down what doesn't immediately produce, replacing the organic with the instantaneous. Yet our deepest transformations happen underground, invisible to metrics and quarterly reviews.


What if unproductive seasons aren't failures but necessary dormancy? The soil around us is being turned, uncomfortable but essential. The fertilizer smells of disappointment and limitation. But something unseen is happening beneath the surface where roots stretch toward what sustains them—not despite the darkness, but because of it.


Listen



Reflect


(Luke 13:1-9)


When confronted with others' suffering, notice your instinct to explain it away—what uncomfortable questions emerge when you abandon the belief that pain must be deserved?


Jesus challenges our rush to judgment and quick solutions—how might patiently "cultivating the ground" around your challenges reveal possibilities invisible to immediate analysis?


Consider the areas of your life appearing fruitless despite your efforts—what hidden growth might already be occurring beneath the visible surface of your struggles?


Pray


Lord, your timing transcends our urgent demands. Turn the soil of our rigid expectations. Nourish the roots of our withered hopes. Grant us courage to trust the slow, invisible work happening beneath our struggles. Transform our impatience into attentive presence that recognizes potential where others see only failure.



 
 
 

SOCL, Lent2C

Updated: Mar 31


ree

Sunday March 16, 2025

The vision of the summit

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On the mountain, the boundaries between the ordinary and the divine momentarily dissolve. Peter, James, and John—three common fishermen—experience the transcendent breaking through the fabric of their everyday reality. Jesus's transformation is not so much a change as a revelation: the momentary visibility of what was always present but hidden from their limited eyes. We too carry this duality: the ordinary and the extraordinary coexisting in every moment.


Peter's instinctive response reveals our human tendency: when we experience the sacred, we try to contain it, build structures for it, turn it into something manageable. "Let us make three tents" is the cry of all who have felt the divine and then try to institutionalize it. But the enveloping cloud suggests another truth: the transcendent cannot be contained in our categories, only experienced with awe and trembling.


The command from the cloud—"This is my beloved Son; listen to him"—radically reorients. It's not about building monuments to past experiences but actively listening, moment by moment. The descent is inevitable: after every summit, we must return to the valley. The disciples keep silent about what they have seen, perhaps understanding that there are experiences that words can only diminish. The transfiguration wasn't meant for remaining on the mountain, but for transforming how they would walk through the valley.


Listen



Reflect


(Luke 9:28-36)


Where have you experienced moments of transcendent clarity in your life, and how have you tried to "build tents" to preserve them rather than allowing them to transform you?


The divine voice doesn't command to build, organize, or control, but simply to "listen"—how might you cultivate a more receptive posture toward the divine in your everyday life?


Jesus descends from the glory of the mountain toward the path that would lead him to Jerusalem and to suffering—how might your own moments of spiritual illumination sustain you during times of darkness and difficulty?


Pray


Lord, open our eyes to the glory hidden within the ordinary. Free us from our impulse to contain the sacred in structures of our own making. Sharpen our ears to listen to your beloved Son, not just in moments of dazzling clarity, but also in the dark valleys where his presence seems fainter. May glimpses of glory not lead us to escape the world, but to transform how we walk within it.



 
 
 
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