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Sunday June 15, 2025


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“Silence is the language God speaks and everything else is a bad translation” is variously attributed. Whoever penned it, it strikes a chord on the feast of the Holy and Undivided Trinity. As we stand before the absolute mystery of God, one and three, transcendent and immanent, greater than our hearts and yet closer to us than we are to ourselves, wordless prayer is fitting. And yet…the Mysterious Silence has been broken, if not by “mere” words then certainly by the Word made flesh, whose Spirit has been poured into our hearts.


Listen



Reflect


(John 16:12-15)


Wisdom about life comes slowly and sometimes painfully. Hearing the ‘right’ answer at the ‘wrong’ time does not help us. We need to be ready and open to receiving the truth if it is to have any impact. Perhaps you can recall some occasions when it was the ‘right’ time for you to learn a truth about life. Remember your experiences of growing in understanding and truth.


Perhaps the Spirit guided you through the words of someone close to you, or through the words and actions of people you read about or saw on TV. Or maybe understanding came to you when praying or reflecting on your life. Remember and give thanks for the people who have helped you to greater wisdom on your journey through life.


Wisdom is handed on from person to person, and from generation to generation, within families, within communities, etc. Are there any particular gems of wisdom that you cherish from what has been handed on to you?


Pray


God, your name is veiled in mystery, yet we dare to call you Father; your Son was begotten before all ages, yet is born among us in time; your Holy Spirit fills the whole creation, yet is poured forth now into our hearts. Because you have made us and loved us and called us by your name, draw us more deeply into your divine life, that we may glorify you rightly, through your Son, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, God, for ever and ever. Amen.

 
 
 

Updated: Jun 10

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Sunday June 08, 2025


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We lock our doors against imagined threats while imprisoning ourselves behind barriers of our own making. The very mechanisms designed to protect us become the walls that isolate us—deadbolts on apartments, passwords on devices, emotional armor around hearts. We mistake security for sanctuary, control for peace.


Yet authentic presence penetrates every defense we construct. Love arrives uninvited through locked doors, disrupting our carefully curated isolation with gifts we didn't request. The peace we manufacture through control proves fragile; the peace that invades our protected spaces transforms everything. We discover that what we feared most—unwanted encounters with vulnerability—brings the connection we've been desperately seeking.


Our contemporary crisis isn't lack of security but surplus of it: we've fortified ourselves into loneliness, mistaking digital connection for human presence, professional success for personal meaning. The locked room becomes a metaphor for modern existence—protected, controlled, and profoundly empty.


Listen



Reflect


(John 20:19-23)


Consider the barriers you've constructed recently—emotional walls after disappointment, professional boundaries after failure, relational distance after hurt. These protective mechanisms often become prisons that isolate you from the very connections and opportunities that could heal and transform your circumstances.

Jesus appears through locked doors, offering peace to fearful disciples who had barricaded themselves against perceived threats. His presence doesn't honor their defensive strategies but renders them irrelevant through love that penetrates every barrier, suggesting transformation comes through encounter rather than isolation.


Reflect on where you might unlock what fear has sealed in your daily life—perhaps risking vulnerability in relationships, opening to unexpected opportunities, or allowing divine presence to penetrate the spaces where you feel most defended and afraid of genuine encounter.


Pray


Lord, you penetrate every barrier we construct in fear. Break through our locked doors of self-protection, heal our communities divided by suspicion and control, transform our world's obsession with security into courage for authentic encounter. Make us instruments of your peace that renders all defenses unnecessary.


 
 
 

Updated: Jun 10


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Sunday June 01, 2025


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We treat presence as possession: accumulating time with loved ones, hoarding perfect moments, building relationships on constant availability. This economy of attachment transforms love into surveillance—monitoring WhatsApp statuses, demanding immediate responses, confusing physical proximity with emotional intimacy. Our connections suffocate under the weight of permanent expectation.

Yet the most painful departures often release the deepest presence. Children who become independent reveal the love that overprotection had buried; jobs we lose open paths that control never would have discovered. Absence creates space for memory to distill what's essential, for distance to purify affection of its possessive components.

Perhaps true intimacy requires strategic absences: the space that allows growth, the distance that makes reunion precious, the departure that transforms presence from entitlement into unexpected gift. The most transformative encounters are not those we control but those that survive our inability to possess them.


Listen



Reflect


(Luke 24:46-53)


Reflect on relationships where your need for control or constant presence might be suffocating authentic connection. What fears drive your desire to keep close what you love, and how might these fears be limiting mutual growth?

Jesus departs physically but promises deeper presence through the Spirit, suggesting that true intimacy transcends physical proximity. How might this perspective change the way you navigate separations, losses, or transitions in your life?

Consider where you might need to create healthy space in your relationships—allowing autonomy instead of dependence, trust instead of control. What would change if you saw certain absences as opportunities for deeper connection rather than threats to the bond?

Pray


Lord, free us from the fear that turns love into possession. Heal our communities addicted to superficial connection, transform our relationships controlled by anxiety into spaces of mutual freedom. Make us wise to embrace the absences that deepen intimacy.

 
 
 
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