It is dangerous to make Christ in our own image. Whether it’s the blasphemy of a pastor claiming Jesus asked for forgiveness, Anti-Semitic trolls using “Christ is King” as an attack on Jews, the “Politically Pragmatic Christians” who “live as if God exists,” leveraging the Christian ethos for their vision of brighter future, people have a bad habit of trying to get Jesus off the Cross and into a throne room of their own making.

From the very beginning of Christ’s ministry, the disciples, the world, the flesh, and the Devil are trying to get Him to conform to their expectations. Peter is the first that comes to mind. Peter famously confesses that Jesus is the Messiah. To which Jesus responds with a commendation: Peter is the rock upon which the Church will be built, the gates of Hell will not prevail against it, and Jesus promises to give Peter, not you and me, the keys to the Kingdom of Heaven. “Whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven; whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven” (Mt. 16:18-19). Regardless of your theology, Peter is given great power and responsibility in this passage.

If the proximity of the verse is any indication, immediately after Peter’s promotion, Jesus rebukes Peter. Jesus has just prophesied his own death, and Peter, for reasons unknown to us, lay readers, rebukes Jesus! To which Jesus responds,

“Get behind me, Satan! You are an obstacle to me. You are thinking not as God does, but as human beings do.”

Matthew 16:23

If Peter is the head of the disciples, Judas is seen as the last of them. As the one who betrayed Jesus, he is a tragic figure who gives Christians pause about what evil their future selves are capable of committing. In the Gospel of John, Jesus’ feet are being bathed in expensive perfume (12:1-11). In this description, we see that Judas was a “thief.” Judas attempts to trick Jesus into stopping the woman from “anointing Christ” before his death. Jesus rebukes Judas as well: “Leave her alone. Let her keep this for the day of my burial” (12:7-8).

Finally, Jesus challenges our own expectations. The King of the Universe is not supposed to ride an “ass”. He’s supposed to ride a mighty horse! He’s not supposed to be mocked, whipped, beaten, and humiliated. If that’s happening to Him, imagine what they will do to those who were stupid enough to believe Him? Is it too improbable to think that these thoughts and questions may have been the motivation for the disciples’ abandonment of Christ? How many times have we had these same thoughts when we hear someone mock our Lord, and we think, “If you think that about Jesus, then what are you going to think of me for following Him?”

There is only one King, and our citizenry is not predicated on “beliefism” or the idea that saying we believe in God is enough. Obedience is the prerequisite to be a citizen of His Kingdom, but the Cross is what keeps us within it. Christ is the King, but do not be fooled by cultural Christians who desire to manipulate that idea for their own ends, the way a puppeteer manipulates a marionette. Nor should we believe that governmental endorsements of Christianity will lighten the cross that Christ has asked us to bear.

Christ is eternal, the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow. We are the ones who are fickle, who constantly try to reinvent Him and His Church, either because we are concerned about the optics of the King riding a donkey, or because we are thieves who desire a cut from the King of Glory’s anointing but without the sacrifice necessary to receive it. We want Christianity to be whatever we want it to be, and a King who behaves the way we want Him to. Is it any wonder that those who have rejected Christianity and adopted atheistic and materialistic worldviews are attempting to create God in their own image through AI?

The only path to Heaven involves faith, obedience, and sacrifice. Without faith, you have no obedience; without obedience, you have no sacrifice; without sacrifice, you have no hope.

As we enter into Holy Week, and the darkness of Good Friday descends, may we remember that Christ is not your King or my King, but he is The King, and we are his subjects.

— DR

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Growing up in a God-fearing, Bible-reading, Church-attending home meant having an above-average awareness of what God could do in the life of a person. God could heal people, send plagues, part the waters of the ocean, make water come from rocks, walk on water, make other people walk on water, and the list goes on.

As a young kid, I can remember reading the stories of the Bible or hearing stories from the mission field and wanting God to miraculously move in my life. Not because I needed a miracle, but I wanted God to “prove” himself. At the time, I’m not sure I was aware of the motivation behind this desire, but upon looking back, I’m confident this was the motive behind it.

If I could just experience a miracle, then I would never doubt. It would be a “one-and-done” kind of thing. The Christian life would be easy! How could I turn away if I saw a blind man healed, or if I was the leper touched by the very hand of God? Or even just a tiny tip from Heaven in the form of an epic dream, like Joseph experienced, but instead of it being about Egypt and its famines, it enables me to determine if I should be a famous actor, a brain surgeon, or a rocket engineer; Is that too much to ask?

We should be careful asking for miracles. When we read the story of Lazarus, Jesus lets him die. Then Jesus raises him from the dead. Within a few verses, we discover that being the honorary recipient of the healing power of God comes with liabilities. Now, Lazarus is a target of a group of conspirators plotting to kill Jesus! In short, we learn that Lazarus was safer dead, rather than alive!

When we read the lives of the Church’s saints, a pattern emerges. They have a unique encounter with God, but they are also asked to suffer in excruciating ways. The Light of Heaven they experience on Earth is the same light that casts the shadow of the cross God will ask them to carry. Mary, the saint of saints, also embodies this relationship between the grace of miracles and the suffering that comes with them.

In the Gospel of Luke, it’s revealed that the most privileged creature in all creation, the Mother of God, is the Virgin Mary. She is overshadowed by the Holy Spirit, carries the Son of God, and enters into full submission to the Father, “Let it be done according to your word.” This prayer will be echoed by her Son in the Garden of Gethsemane. Of all the creatures in history, only Mary was privileged to raise the Son of God and teach him what it meant to be a godly man.1

Yet, Mary is also the only person of whom it is written, “…And a sword will pierce your own soul as well!” (Lk. 2:35, NET). What kind of pain does a pierced soul experience? Whatever it may mean, the suffering that she experienced is as unique as her place in the Kingdom of Heaven. Her role is totally unique, and her suffering is utterly exceptional.

We should be grateful for our hidden lives. But if God calls us from our hidden lives the way he called Lazarus from the tomb, we should respond with the obedience of Lazarus, rise, take up our cross, and follow Christ. As we cross the threshold of our shadowy cave and enter into the light of the world, the first words on our lips should be, “Here I am, Lord. Let it be done to me according to your will.”

— DR

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Death is by far the worst thing that we experience, but there are those recorded in the Bible who died twice. Lazarus and the rest of the “sleepers” that Jesus brings back to life are an interesting group to consider.

Jesus brings Lazarus back to mortal life, and consequently Lazarus will die again. The same applies to Jairus’s daughter (Mk. 5:35-43) and the son of the widow of Nain (Luke 7:11-17), and those revived by God’s power through the prophets Elijah (1 Kings 17:7-24) and Elisha (2 Kings 4:8-37).1

These individuals are interesting. First, they die more than once during their life. Second, Christ’s submission to death is evidenced by his raising them from the dead. Third, the cost of being touched by God exacts more than we expect. This last point, we will cover later when we read John 16. For our purposes, though, we will focus mainly on Lazarus.

According to the text, Lazarus was clearly ill (Jn. 11:4). His family, friends, and enemies all recognized that Jesus had healed a blind man, but did not save his friend. Psalm 88, often called the “Dark Night of the Soul”, asks all the questions that both the good and the bad ask in this passage in John.

Because of you my acquaintances shun me; 
    you make me loathsome to them; 
Caged in, I cannot escape; 
    my eyes grow dim from trouble. 
All day I call on you, Lord; 
    I stretch out my hands to you. 
Do you work wonders for the dead? 
    Do the shades arise and praise you? 
Ps. 88:9-11 

How often did Lazarus’ family pray something like this? We know their hearts were longing for Jesus to come, and yet he did not. Lazarus is one of those rare souls who shows us that to follow God is to give our life and death to him. Ironically, we see that his return will be a “life for a life” exchange.

Submission

John tells us that Jesus loves this family. So why does Jesus delay? Because our lives are not our own, and they exist first and foremost to reveal God’s glory, both in life and death. As Jesus said,

“This illness is not to end in death, but is for the glory of God…Father, I thank you for hearing me. I know that you always hear me; but because of the crowd here I have said this, that they may believe you sent me.”

Jn. 11:4; 11:41-42

There is a passage in the Old Testament that says, “The Lord gives, and the Lord takes away.” In the context of Lazarus, we see that Jesus demonstrates that he not only makes people see (Jn. 10), but that he is the one who gives and takes away.

“Lazarus, come out!” Jesus commands. The stone is rolled away, and a man tied up in burial clothes exits the tomb. The tomb is empty, but ironically, in exchange for Lazarus’ life, The Life will have to die.

The God of heaven became man; the Light of the World enters into our darkness so that we may see; The Shepherd lays down his life for the sheep; Just as Moses parts the Red Sea and leads Israel through the waters of chaos, so Jesus, The Way, makes a path through the darkness of death. The question is before us: are we willing to obey him, even unto death, even if that means we die twice?

— DR

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During seminary, one of my professors, we’ll call him Dr. Howard, had severe chronic pain. Ambulances in front of the school were not frequent, but they were also not surprising.

One night, we came back and found him lying on the floor. The pain had reached a level we had heard about, but none of has had witnessed till now. It was only natural that students would desire to pray over him while he lay there, paralyzed by pain. One student timidly asked, “Can I pray for you?” The professor said, “Yes.”

I can remember standing there praying and thinking, “What if God heals him right here?” but nothing happened, or so it seemed. It may seem cliché, but while his classes were some of the most informative and entertaining, what really impacted the students was his willingness to endure his suffering for the sake of their education and the lessons he taught us through his perseverance. One night during one of our Old Testament classes, I asked him, “What’s the purpose of success and failure in the life of the Christian?” His answer was profound, but first, a little back story.

Winners & Losers

I attended a small Bible College named Cedarville University during my freshman year. I was there on scholarship for Cross Country and Track & Field. Before the start of a race, our team would always do a final pre-race sprint to loosen up our legs, form a huddle, pray for God to bless our performance, and then we would shout in unison, “All for the glory of God!”

One day, we were at an all-Christian-college Cross Country invitational, and I noticed that all the schools were basically doing the same thing. Running out their final stride, huddling together, praying the other teams would lose, and then shouting a praise to God. In the end, God was bound to answer one team’s prayers and reject the others. That may be how it appears, but that is not necessarily the full result.

Puzzled by this observation, I put it out of my mind, laced up my spikes, toed the line, and waited for the gun. Sure enough, 25 minutes later, there was a team that won and a team that lost. This experience stuck with me, especially during my later college years, which were spent competing in the NCAA.

For the Glory of God

Shortly after seminary, I found myself a washed-out athlete and considering further education for an M.A. in Philosophy at an unknown seminary. After a year of post-collegiate training in Colorado, I thought I was going to have a promising athletic career, but physical and mental burnout brought about my demise.

Fast forward to seminary, where Dr. Howard was giving a lecture and preparing to respond to my question, “Dr. Howard, what’s the purpose of success and failure in the life of the Christian?”

His answer, “Their purpose is the same. To make us more like Christ.” He paused and let the answer hang in the air. I almost said, “Thanks,” but then he continued, “Sometimes, things can get so bad, though, that you need someone in your life to remind you of this fact, that failure and success are to form you into Christ.”

He proceeded to tell us about a time when the pain was so bad, he wasn’t sure how he was going to live with it. He told us how his wife had been there for him in his time of need and saved him from despair. After elaborating on the details of this dark moment for what must have been nearly 10 minutes, he said, “So, they are the same, to make you into the image of Christ.”

Dr. Howard paused again, but this time the silence weighed on every soul in the room. Every class, we all saw the pain he endured: the white knuckles clasped together on the table as he calmly lectured from his wheelchair, the single bead of sweat that would sometimes appear towards the end of class, or the veins on his temples, which became more visible as class went on. His answer, while simple, contained a depth of understanding that, like children trying to understand something second knowledge to their father, was something we could barely grasp, though we knew it to be true.

As we waited for him to continue the lecture, my friend turned around and whispered, “Bro, he answered your question!”

Many of us had great hopes and dreams that we believed we would attain, but we failed to consider that God may call someone else to bear the cross of success for the benefit that we will reap from the cross of failure. To be sure, both are crosses: one tempts you to self-reliance and rejection of God, while the other tempts us to despair and anger with God. But both can be redeemed for the glory of God, which is the whole point of our vaporous lives.

Whether we are writers, athletes, soldiers, politicians, physicians, philosophers, theologians, engineers, or whatever our occupation, we must offer up both our successes and failures for the glory of God. For the Christian, our prayer is this: that in the light of our wins and the blindness of our losses, we would be mirrors who reflect the Light of the World to those in the darkness. That is when this light pierces the darkness, they would see our bearing of the cross and glorify God.

All for the Glory of God!

— DR

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Today’s themes come from John 10: unity, division, and sacrifice. First, we will explore the relationship between evangelism and unity. Next, we investigate the relationship between division, obedience, and oneness with God. Finally, we will explore the theme of sacrifice and its relationship to the truth.

Unity

One of our family’s favorite films is The Star. The story follows Mary, Jesus, and Joseph from the perspective of a donkey named Bo, a dove named Dave, and a sheep named Ruth, who left her flock to follow the star over Bethlehem.

As the movie nears its climax, a Roman guard sent to kill Jesus is getting close to the Holy Family, and the animals are doing everything they can to stop him. Ruth, the sheep, is searching for other animals who can help protect the family. As she runs through the streets of Bethlehem, she comes to an open field where some sheep are grazing. She is excited until she realizes that it’s her old flock, the one she left to follow the star.

She’s faced with a choice: turn and run, or recruit more sheep from her old flock. She works up the courage and runs up to the flock. The sheep ignore her until she ascends a small boulder in the field, and standing as tall as she can, she shouts, “This is important!” and stomps her hoof. As she does, lightning streaks across the sky and the sky fills with the angels bringing “good news” to the shepherds that the “savior has been born.”

This scene1 captures what all Christians should believe: that the truth is important.

Christians cannot tiptoe around each other on matters of the truth. As Jesus said earlier, “The truth shall set you free.” If we are to be true disciples of Jesus, then we must accept both the freedom that truth gives and the cross that comes with it. There is no room in Christianity for the idea, “You have your Christian truth, and I have mine." But this does not mean that we cannot love those who disagree with us. In fact, as followers of Christ, this is one of the most important commandments.

Christ is both the Truth and the Light. In a previous post, God Always Moves First, Christ shows that his light is both illuminating and blinding (Jn. 9:35-41). In Chapter 10, we see that Christ is being more explicit in his claim as the Son of God. This is creating a threefold division: those who believe, those who have yet to believe, and those who doubt. As the text states,

“Again there was a division among the Jews because of these words.” — Jn 10:19

What are we to make of Christ’s call for unity, especially later in the Gospel (Jn. 17), and the division that his words cause? It is that when we reject Christ’s teaching, we reject his divinity. The truth alone is not sufficient to cause division. Another variable is necessary, man’s rejection of it.

Division

Rejecting Jesus’ divinity can happen in one of two ways. First, by rejecting his words or teachings, and second, by rejecting his works. Both lead to division between those who believe and obey and those who doubt and rebel.

Our faith is not dependent on the words, “I follow Christ.” Our faith is revealed by obedience to Christ, not merely our psychological or verbal ascent. Christ says to the Jewish leaders, “You do not believe, because you are not my sheep. My sheep hear my voice; I know them, and they follow me. I give eternal life and they shall never perish” (Jn.10:25-28).

John’s Gospel account emphasizes two major themes: obedience and faith. Beginning in John 2:1-12, where Mary says, “Do whatever he tells you,” the first foreshadowing of the Eucharist, to John 6, where Jesus says,

“Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him on the last day. For my flesh is true food, and my blood is true drink. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood remains in me and I in him.”

Jn. 6:54-56 - emphasis mine.

This theme of obedience and faith continues even into John 10. When we consider these passages alongside John 10:38, there is a startling relationship between God the Father and God the Son, and God the Son and his sheep (us). After the Jews pick up stones to stone him to death for his claim, “The Father and I are one,” Jesus says,

“If I do not perform my Father’s works, do not believe me; but if I perform them, even if you do not believe me, believe the works, so that you may realize [and understand] that the Father is in me and I am in the Father.”

Jn. 10:37-38 - emphasis mine.

Notice that Christ’s words in John 6 provide us with the same relationship with Jesus that Jesus has with the Father. It is only through him that we can enter the one flock.

These are hard truths to accept, and as such, they unify and divide. The divisions are clearly seen in the multitude of “Christian expressions.” They cannot all be right, yet they all claim that they are teaching what the apostles originally taught.

The unity is most visible when Christians gather for the reception of the Eucharist during Mass. Whether you’re young, old, handicapped, or mentally deficient, our equality before God is most clearly seen when Christians are united in their submission to Christ at the altar rail.

Jesus' teaching is hard to believe. This is why he points to his works as evidence that his words are true — “Even if you don’t believe me, believe my works.” If you are struggling to believe the teachings of the Church, look at the works that Christ has done through the Eucharist and the sacraments in the lives of the faithful. As Ruth the sheep would say, “This is important!”

Sacrifice

The final topic is sacrifice. Jesus says,

“I will lay down my life for the sheep…This is why the Father loves me, because I lay down my life to take it up again.”

Jn. 10:15,17

Before I begin this part of the reflection, know that I do not object to Protestants or other denominations out of some kind of intellectual superiority or theological elitism. It is a hard thing to share the truth without being perceived as prideful or conceded. So, I would like to share a little more about my conversion before we discuss this final topic.

A Detour

After my first confession, I wept for nearly three days, overwhelmed by the love Jesus had for me. I want my Protestant friends and family to experience that same love, not psychologically, but actually. For several weeks after our conversion, tears would begin to form as the priest held up the host during Mass. “God never left us”, I would think to myself, “He’s been here the whole time.”

You must understand that Protestantism as an institution believes I am duped, deluded, or even committing idolatry, even if some of their individual members do not. Of course, if those members believe my experience and changes of heart are authentic, then I pray that they will be open to the idea that God desires the same thing for them that he gave me. The sheep hear his voice, and he knows what to say and do to get their attention.

My writings on these subjects are truly from a place of love for people to come to Christ, the way he taught us to, not the way we feel like coming to him or how we would prefer. In short, I want them to know God the way the Church has revealed him. If I say anything in my writings or on my podcast that you don’t understand or find offensive, please write in and ask me a question. If I say something that offends you, let me know. I can always do better. With that, we return to the topic of sacrifice.

Back to Sacrifice

“I will lay down my life for the sheep…This is why the Father loves me, because I lay down my life to take it up again.”

Jn. 10:15,17

When one embraces the fullness of Christianity, their entire posture has to shift from one of pride to one of humility. As one scholar put it, “I had to realize it was the Church that told me I was wrong, not the other way around.” This change is hard and requires great sacrifice. My wife and I frequently reflect on how patient God was with us. In fact, our experience with God’s patience was part of the inspiration behind my most popular reflection to date, “The Patience of God.”

Jesus said that there would be “one shepherd” and that there would be “one flock.” In order for us to conquer our divisions, we must all be sacrificing for the teachings of Christ, not our denominational preferences. For it is not only that the truth sets us free, but it also provides the unity that Christ prays for in John 17, “Father, let them be one as you and I are one.”

As a Protestant, one can swim in the waters of “Mere Christianity” for a long time, not realizing that what they perceive as the warm waters of “tolerance” are actually the dangerous waters of “relativism.” If people do not have the truth or only parts of the truth, it is the Christian’s duty to use the bits we share as stepping stones to the whole truth for which we were made.

May God grant us the faith and grace necessary to obey him in times of unity, division, and sacrifice.

— DR

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In today’s reading, we continue the story of the blind man. Jesus spat in the dirt, made mud, and then told the man to go and wash in the Pool of Siloam. The text doesn’t say how close the man was to the pool, nor does it say, “And then Jesus said, ‘Take my arm, and let me help you into the pool.’” Given these omissions, a creative speculation of this event is permissible.

With mud on his eyes, he fumbles his way to a pool that he cannot see. Does he trip? Do people mock him as he passes by, saying, “What’s that on your face?” How far was the pool?

In my mind, I picture him with his hands outstretched, mud caked on his eyes, as the hot sun beats down on his face. His toe strikes a rock, and he falls to the ground. As his body submits to gravity, his arms reach out to catch him. He lies there, just for a moment, catching his breath from the fall, when suddenly he feels a cool ripple of water touch his finger — he’s at the pool.

He slowly rises to his hands and knees, crawls towards the water, and slowly breaks its surface. As he rises out of the water, something is different. The water’s contact with the mud on his eyes has caused a cascade of dirt and water to run down his face. He can see! He can cry!

Of course, the text does not give us this kind of description. Nevertheless, the text does show through its narrative that something like this must have happened. Later, we see that the man, before believing in Christ, boldly defends Christ’s miracle in his life. He does not know who Jesus truly is, but he does know that he can see!

We see that his neighbors are perplexed, but not superstitious —

“‘Isn’t this the one who used to sit and beg?’

Some said, ‘It is,’

but others said, ‘No, he just looks like him’”

— (Jn. 9:8-9).

They are not, contrary to the modernist presumptions, a group easily duped or given to the fantastical. They are ultimately people, like you and me, who have heard a claim or witnessed something phenomenal, trying to make sense of it all, yet woefully equipped to do so. Even the blind man, who now sees, needs still more grace for his heart to fully convert.

We see a division forming and people taking sides in the debate about the miracle. Jesus is either a sinner and did not heal the man, or Jesus did heal the man and is from God. Jesus, the Light of the World, brings sight to the faithful and blindness to the faithless. Our commentary describes this chapter as a kind of “trial” between the faithful and the faithless. According to our commentary:

John has presented 9:8-34 as a judicial trial, complete with witnesses and conclusions drawn from testimony. However, since Jeuss comes into the world as the light and peoples’ responses to him constitute judgement on themselves, ironically, the ones who are really on trial here are the Pharisees and the healed man, not Jesus. The response of the individuals display the judging effect of Jesus as the light, revealing those who walk in light or in darkness, those who see are blind spiritually.1

This contrast between the faithless and the faithful is important, especially in modern times when man no longer fears God. We no longer work our faith out in fear and trembling, but rather in nihilism and mockery. “Who cares what you believe?” says the culture. Podcasters from various denominations are constantly asking, “So am I still going to heaven even if I don’t join your church?”

Of course, this misses the point of the Gospel, since salvation is received by both faith and obedience: Christ commands that you believe in him; Christ commands that you obey him; Christ commands that you be baptized; Christ commands that you love your neighbor as yourself, and that you love God more than your neighbor; Christ commands that you eat his body and drink his blood. If we disobey these things or deny their veracity, surely there will be a judgment of some kind.

The assumption that all Churches are wrong somewhere is the most prideful position a person can make. He ultimately sets himself up as the Pope of all churches, dictating where this group is wrong and that group is right. All are sufficient, but none are sufficient to receive his full allegiance because, as one famous psychologist said, “I exist on the borders of things.”2

God wants us to know the fullness of truth, which only comes through belief and obedience. Conversion happens first when God moves, the mind recognizes his movement, and the will submits. But none of this is possible without faith. So, what is the source of faith?

St. Thomas Aquinas said that for faith to occur in the individual, it must have an external cause and an internal cause. External causes are things like miracles, preaching, defenses of the faith, or a kind gesture done in the name of Christ. They are ultimately outside of the person’s control. But these alone are “insufficient”, as is evident from the text today. The blind man’s parents didn’t even know what to think of their son’s healing. They’ve witnessed a miracle and say they want nothing to do with the matter for fear of being affiliated with Christ.

St. Thomas says that an internal movement is necessary for salvation, after all, even among Christ’s disciples, scripture says, “but some doubted.” Thus, St. Thomas writes:

“Hence we must assert another internal cause, which…is God moving man inwardly by grace…To believe does indeed depend on the will of the believer: but man’s will does need to be prepared by God with grace.”

— Summa theologica 2-2, q. 6, a. 1.

This is why we pray for conversion, not because grace is irresistible, but that the will is a stubborn thing that requires many seasons of grace before the soul is willing to open its ground to the roots of the Tree of Life. So we pray, for our conversion first, that we would never tire of encountering Christ in the sacraments, and for our friends and family, that the light of Christ would not blind them, but show them the fullness of truth found only in his Church.

Jesus said to him, “You have seen him and the one speaking with you is he.” He said, “I do believe, Lord,” and he worshiped him (Jn. 9:37-38).

— DR

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Becoming Catholic brought a lot of surprises, but one that sticks out to me was the witness of saints embodying the idea that suffering was a gift. In every religion, you have people who suffer for their beliefs. So it’s not merely the idea that Catholics suffer worse than this or that group; you can always say this person suffered more than this person, so we are not just talking about “who got it worse.”

What was apparent in my reading of the saints was that they saw suffering as a gift for two reasons:

1. It was a way to become closer to Christ.

2. It was offered up for the salvation of souls.

Don’t think that I’m downplaying the courage of Protestants with what I am about to say. Catholics and Protestants have both demonstrated their love for Christ by what the Church calls the “baptism by blood”. What I am trying to point out is that suffering and martyrdom are not the same thing — all martyrdom is suffering, but not all suffering is martyrdom; some suffering is for a season and doesn’t end your life.

Protestants and Catholics largely share the idea that suffering is a way to be closer to Christ, so I’m not going to split hairs on that point here. What I find interesting and unique to Catholic teaching is the idea of offering your suffering up to God. This act is often seen by the saint as an opportunity to imitate Christ. In other words, in the same way that Christ offered himself on the cross for the salvation of the world, so the saint offers his suffering up to God for the salvation of the souls that have been entrusted to his care.

In Pope John Paul II’s encyclical On the Christian Meaning of Human Suffering, he discusses the role of suffering in the life of the believer as redemptive. He cites St. Paul’s letter to the Colossians as one of his main texts,

“Now I rejoice in what I am suffering for you, and I fill up in my flesh what is still lacking in regard to Christ’s afflictions, for the sake of his body, which is the Church”

— Col. 1:24

Pope John Paul II argues that our suffering has been redeemed by Christ’s suffering on the cross, not in the sense that suffering no longer exists but rather that it has meaning, specifically redemptive meaning. He writes,

Thus, with this openness to every human suffering, Christ has accomplihsed the world’s redemption through his own suffering. For, at the same time, this redemption, even though it was completely acheived by Christ’s suffering, lives on and in its own special way develops in the history of man. It lives and develops as the body of Christ, the Church, and in this dimension every human suffering, by reason of loving union with Christ, completes the suffering of Christ. It completes that suffering just as the Church completes the redemptive work of Christ.

Pope John Paul II, “On the Christian Meaning of Human Suffering”, paragraph 24. emphasis in original.

As a Protestant, you never really got a straight answer on the Problem of Evil. Sure, you could argue that God had a “reason” for allowing evil, but there was no Church that was willing to say what that reason was. The Catholic Church, through John Paul II and her saints, does show us that the reason is that it unites us to Christ and has the power to bring redemption to the souls for whom it is offered. If God’s goal is to make us like Christ, then it follows that suffering may be part of that process.

One example is sufficient. St. Padre Pio at one point had developed a severe hernia in his abdomen. Padre Pio had a miraculous manifestation of the stigmata, which is a rare miracle where the wounds of Christ appear in the body of the saint. One of the doctors who had investigated the wounds had returned to the monastery to check in on the monk, and he discovered the hernea.

Padre Pio opted not to use any anesthesia. The doctors insisted that he should have it, but Padre Pio said, “Doctor, I promise not to move.” The operation proceeded, and Padre Pio offered the suffering up for the salvation of souls. You can read about the full account of this epic saint in the book, The Life of Padre Pio by Gennaro Presziuao.

What we find in the Church’s teaching is the antidote to the Prosperity Gospel, not merely in the form of self-help, sermons, or books, but in the very teachings of the Church and the lives of the saints. Through our suffering, God is glorified and is made visible, but the Christian is also brought closer to Christ in a unique and meaningful way. In short, we should not seek suffering, but should it come, may God help us have the faith to see it for what it is, a gift.

— DR

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One thing Christians cannot do is take credit for the grace that God has given them. This is especially true for Protestants who have entered into full communion with the Church. There is a lot of grace required for a Protestant to convert. It does not happen merely on their own steam.

Now that our initial conversion has become somewhat accepted, some people want to pretend nothing has changed, others have commented that I have changed, while still others want to know why I can’t just set aside the “Catholic bits” and focus on what we have in common. This is like an atheist telling his friend who used to be an atheist to stop talking about Jesus and the Bible. Should the convert accept and pretend like the joy and peace he has received in his life are merely psychological or the result of meditation, he would be lying to himself and his friend.

In today’s reading, I think we find a similar parallel from Christ’s debate with the religious leaders. The second half of John 8 is essentially three parts of a back and forth between Jesus and the Pharisees. For approximately 30 verses, John’s Gospel records Jesus debating with the Pharisees about who he really is. Here is some more context.

“‘Are you greater than our father Abraham, who died? Or the prophets, who died? Who do you make yourself out to be?’ Jesus answered, ‘If I glorify myself, my glory is worth nothing; but it is my Father who glorifies me, of whom you say , ‘He is our God.’ You do not know him, but I know him. And if I should say that I do not know him, I would be like you a liar.’”

— Jn. 8 52-55

It’s as if the Jewish leaders are saying to Jesus, “Who do you think you are? You’re no different than we are. Why are you talking such nonsense?” Christ’s response is essentially, “I have no other choice. This is who I am. If I conceded to your demands to ‘focus on what we have in common,’ I would be a liar.”

Now, this is a very harsh response, and I don’t think the parallel of Jewish rejection of Jesus is the same thing as the Protestant rejection of Catholicism. However, the spirit behind asking Catholics to keep the “Catholic parts” to themselves is characteristic of something more sinister than it is virtuous.

In reality, if Christ’s words in John 6 and at the Last Supper, recorded in the other Gospels — “This is my body…this is my blood” — are true, the Catholics are objectively closer to Christ and also held to a much higher standard. This makes it our responsibility to give credit to God’s grace within the sacraments and credit them as the basis for any change perceived in us by our Protestant brothers and sisters. If we deny the power of the sacraments in our lives, especially when people notice, we, as Jesus said, would be liars.

— DR

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Knowledge is a requirement for belief. When people talk of invincible ignorance, they often imply a deterministic view of the truth. They describe the truth as something that will necessarily break the will of man and bring him to his knees. In other words, if a sinner accepts the truth, then he knows the truth. If the sinner rejected the truth, then he never knew the truth.

Today, we think of knowing the truth as proven by some kind of assessment. As if those who can write out theological doctrine in fancy language are going to pass the exam at the pearly gates and be welcomed with open arms. But this is not the case. We will be judged on what we said and what we did. In other words, our belief in Christ will be revealed by what we do and say. And we cannot obey Christ or reject Christ if we do not know what he taught.

So why would Jesus say that the truth will set us free? Most of the time, we think of truth in terms of obligation or a kind of moral slavery. But that is depressing! Think of a time in your life when you were wrestling with some doubts. Maybe it was a job, a potential spouse, what school to go to, the degree you should study — whatever it might have been— remember when you suddenly knew what to do? How freeing was that! How exciting it was to know the adventure that truth had brought to your door. Now the only thing to do was to follow it.

Knowledge of the truth is freeing. That is because it tells us what to do and what to avoid. Is it any wonder that the Devil frequently plants seeds of doubt, trying to get us to question what we know?

The Devil is the ultimate gaslighter. He is always trying to get us to question our sanity for following Christ. “You know, if you were doing the right thing, do you think this would be happening to you right now?”; “Do you really think that God wants your kids to suffer for the Gospel?”; “Did God really say not to eat of the tree of life?”; “Did Jesus really say, ‘eat my body and drink my blood’?”

Since becoming Catholic, Christian relativism has become much more apparent. Many friends of mine have suddenly become much less dogmatic in their beliefs about what they believe Christianity teaches. They will recognize that truth is knowable and that we must submit, but then when you ask them about a moral or theological dogma like female priests or pastors, IVF, or even abortion, they are unsure of their position. Some may think this is not important. For example, women priests, who would care about that? It seems like an old issue, not one we should worry about today.

But scripture is clear that “not many of us should be teachers” because they will have a harsher judgment. If a Christian is unsure about the doctrine of the priesthood, then he is “neither hot nor cold,” and he is unstable in his belief. As a result, people could suffer from this kind of doctrinal indecision or instability.

…The ignorant and unstable distort [Paul’s writings] to their own destruction, just as they do the other scriptures.

— 2 Pt. 3:16

The truth brings a stabilizing effect, and it is proclaimed by the Church. When a person, continuing our example from above, decides to accept the Church’s teaching on male-only priests, it illuminates his path, frees his time, and he is now able to identify safe churches and doctrinally sound churches to attend. If a person remains unstable in their position, they will find it much more enticing to research and study this question rather than worshiping God as they ought. Thus, the Devil gains a foothold and entices us to kneel before the altar of knowledge, rather than the altar of life. Once one doctrine is settled, another doubt about what Christianity really teaches raises its head. But this is not what the Christian life is all about. The Christian life is about obedience and worship in spirit and truth.

When you become Catholic, suddenly you realize exactly what your priorities ought to be, what God desires for you, and how he intends to be in a relationship with you. Now, your study becomes more about action than alleviation of doubt. You start to think, “How do I live this now?”— not “Is this moral or immoral, is this doctrine true or is it a heresy?

In summary, when you come into the Church, yes, there are bad teachers, but the light of God is still radiating from within her, and Christ is truly present on her altars. And when you receive the truth, bodily and spiritually, your whole life is changed, and now you have the strength and freedom to go on the adventure of eternity.

— DR

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I don’t consider this to be something that will win any poetry contests, but occasionally I enjoy just writing some prose

Consider this a prayer for all those who find the light at their feet a bit too dim for comfort.

God bless.

O Light, darken my path! 

Without a plan, I fear thy wrath. 

How can I know the right choice to take? 

For on my knees no words my voice will make. 

My path has no light by my feet. 

But one day the Light I shall meet. 

Wait a little longer and all will be clear. 

In God's time, little soul, you will have nothing to fear. 

You know that God will never leave nor forsake, 

but the sin you hold on to, that He must take. 

For now, the Light tarries in His departure from above. 

Thus, in this darkness, you must never forget God is love.  

— DR

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A Christian therapist once told me that this passage about the woman caught in adultery is a great litmus test to gauge how much one’s worldview favors legalism or liberalism. He would ask them if they remembered the story, and when they responded in the affirmative, he would ask a follow-up question: “Do you remember what Jesus said to the woman after her accusers left?”

Here is the interesting part. If those he questioned leaned more liberal in their morality, they tended to say, “Jesus said, ‘Neither do I condemn you.’” If they were more conservative in their morality, they would answer, “He said, ‘Go and sin no more.’” How balanced Christ’s message is to the world, yet we weigh down the scales in favor of a Gospel tailored to us rather than the world. Yet, when we read the text, we realize that even in this, God is still patient. He’s waiting for the moment when the world’s accusers are gone, and it’s just him and us. It is here that he stands up, and stands before us and asks us, “Where are your accusers?”

In today’s commentary, I was struck by a quote from the Holy Father, Pope Francis. From 2013, the Pope shares his thoughts on the passage we read today:

Jesus' attitude is striking: we do not hear words of scorn, we do not hear words of condemnation, but only words of love, of mercy, which are an invitation to conversion. “Neither do I condemn you; go, and do not sin again” (v. 11). Ah! Brothers and Sisters, God's face is the face of a merciful father who is always patient. Have you thought about God's patience, the patience he has with each one of us? That is his mercy. He always has patience, patience with us, he understands us, he waits for us, he does not tire of forgiving us if we are able to return to him with a contrite heart. “Great is God's mercy”, says the Psalm.1

Jesus is God, and God is Love. In Paul’s letter to the Corinthians, he says, “Love is patient.” Jesus here embodies love in a visceral patience. In the face of an angry mob, Jesus bends down and begins to write, seemingly unalarmed by the rage of the crowd, in the dirt with his finger — as an aside, this seems to be a divine reference to the Old Testament where God writes with his finger the words of the Ten Commandments. I’m surprised our commentary didn’t bring this up.2 3 Moving on…

This woman had found herself awaiting judgment, but found the patient love of God. She was not looking for God, but she was brought to him for judgment. Jesus’ patience is an indication of how his love works all things out for our good. God’s love is often seen as sudden, grandiose, powerful, and overwhelming, but we often overlook the subtle, deeply personal, and patient love of God that we see in this encounter. This woman had made mistakes, but God did not condemn her, and neither did he leave her in her sins. “Go and sin no more,” he commands. Her accusers have left, but now God is both her King and her judge. Does she return to her life of sin? We don’t know. But we do know that if she loved God, she did change her ways (Jn. 14:15).

As a convert to Catholicism, you come to realize the bittersweet nature of God’s patient love. On the one hand, you are amazed that God would wait so long for you to come to him and receive as he intended. Looking back, you begin to see what I call “shadows” of God’s hand guiding you to the Church, and it’s incredible. You realize that in that waiting, there was a building up of love — the patient love of God which leads to its overwhelming power in our lives. In that sense, the older you are, the more overwhelming the experience of God’s love when you accept it.

But it is also bittersweet. In some sense, you have come to the party late. You hear stories of Pope John Paul II, but when you were protestant, he was just “the Pope.” Now, he’s one of your son’s favorite saints. You will never have the experience of a proper Catholic wedding within the Church. You will never discern the priesthood, go on pilgrimage with college students, and experience the depth of wisdom within college Newman centers. Yet, there is still something beautiful, because God brought you to the Church at the right moment, within his plan and knowledge of who you are and what he has planned for you within his kingdom.

Love is patient, God is Love.

— DR

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Becoming Catholic was an incredible grace in my life. So much so, that I think I became more Calvinist in my understanding of grace than I did as a Protestant. That is not to say it was irresistible, but in the sense that it was unearned.

All of us have had these encounters at one point or another. We usually call them “luck.” Some, like myself, tend to use the theological carpet bomb of a phrase, “it was providential.” But it’s probably better that we call these fortuitous moments grace. Moments of grace are not chance, nor are they shrouded in the mystery of God’s will. Grace is actually God revealing his will for your life and calling you to cooperate with him (can’t be too Calvinist 😜).

As I read tonight’s passage I didn’t know what I was going to write about. I had already beaten the Protestant / Catholic divide to death in my writings in the Eucharist, and I didn’t feel like belaboring the point. Then low and behold, tonight’s passage read, “So a division occurred in the crowd because of him.”

I shut the book and thought, “I guess God doesn’t want me to write tonight.” But I felt the nudge to take another look at the passage and attempt to discuss division from a different perspective. The perspective of grace.

God and the Problem of Division

One of my favorite topics in seminary was “The Problem of Evil.” It manifests itself everywhere. From the “just not quite right” things of life to the “God, why?” moments of human existence, the problem raises its ugly head seemingly everywhere. The core answer to the problem is ultimately a reasonable faith.

The solution to the problem relies on us recognizing that in order to wield infinite power rightly, i.e., to achieve the maximal amount of good, we would also need to be infinitely knowledgeable. Otherwise, giving a flawed human being infinite power would, well, probably end up only exacerbating the Problem of Evil, not solving it.

So at its core, the solution recognizes that God is God, and we are not. In short, humility is a reasonable solution to the Problem of Evil that plagues our interior lives, even though we may prefer the more sterile and academic ones of the classroom or cocktail party.

A similar problem arises here with the problem of division and exclusive truth. Why would God, who desires all his people to be one, be so divisive? Even in his covenant with Abraham, God tells him to divide animal carcasses in half and walk through them. Jesus here is seen as the cause of the division — “…because of him” the text says. In another place, he says, “I did not come to bring peace but a sword.”

The answer to how division is used by God, at least based on my own experience, is the result of the relationship between grace and divine wisdom.

Grace & Wisdom

It is very difficult to become Catholic for a Protestant. There must be two things present: grace and love for the truth. Grace is God’s act in your life. He opens your eyes to something that you knew before, but now you realize it is actually true. But you’re afraid because you know that the implications of this truth are:

1. It requires your submission.

2. It will cost you.

Somewhere in the journey towards Catholicism, you realize that as a Protestant, you believe something that is not consistent with reality, that truth is exclusive, but Protestantism is relative. Christianity’s primary tenet, “the way, the truth, and the life”, cannot mean everyone is right. Christian Protestants who start to recognize this seem to fall into an accepted agnosticism or a hyper-rationalism that no Christian can follow. I waffled between the two myself, never really accepting one or the other.

This is a dark place in the life of a Christian. It’s especially clear how dark it is looking back from within the Church. The enemy would much rather you believe you need to “figure out” Christianity by your own intellectual perseverance and prowess rather than just accept the teachings of Christianity so that you can truly experience the depth of the Christian faith and its call on your life.

But it’s in these dark moments that grace comes. Maybe it’s one too many “coincidences”, a friend who says they had a weird dream about you that is extremely specific to a conversation you’re having right then; maybe it’s because you were cured of rare cancer after praying the rosary for the first time; maybe you start a podcast and decide you're gonna investigate Catholicism for your episodes, and you suddenly realize the godliest men on your bookshelf are Catholic. Whatever it is, there is an infinite chasm between researching or reading about facts to realizing that something is true and you’re being asked to make a decision.

God’s wisdom uses division, as crazy as it may sound, to simultaneously reveal that “not everyone can be right”, that you really do want the truth, and prove his grace by shining a little bit of light on the confusion from that City on the Hill, the Church. Grace is a necessary piece of any conversion, and it’s clear that those Catholics who prayed for us, in Heaven and on Earth, are a major reason for that. Those of us with a more intellectual bent of the faith need to remember it was not our intellects that brought us to the fullness of Christ, it was grace. A grace that can only come from divine wisdom that mysteriously orchestrates the prayers of the faithful, the despair of confusion, and the grace of heaven to bring us to the fullness of the truth.

God is good.

— DR

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Many Christians have implicitly or explicitly adopted the view of Christian relativism or Christian individualism. Sadly, today many people are at churches for a host of reasons, are about secondary issues, not primary issues.

There are a variety of factors that people use to discern what local church they will attend. From what I can tell, most people my age do not care about the institution that governs that church. They are more concerned about the following criteria:

1. Do I have any friends there?

2. Do they have a large and vibrant youth group?

3. Do they have an “engaging” pastor?

4. Do they have good praise and worship music?

Now, there is nothing wrong with considering these factors in your decision-making process. However, many Christians today will compromise doctrinal convictions so in exchange for one of the four benefits listed above.

For example, when I was in seminary, I attended a group run in Charlotte, NC. There was a woman there who found out I was in seminary, and she was a serious Christian herself. She and her husband had decided that their family was going to attend Elevation Church (a mega-church) because their kids just loved the Youth Group so much. Other parents during this time expressed the same sentiment to me, saying things like “My kids feel like it’s cool to be a Christian.” It’s ok for Christians to do cool things, but “cool” is just the kids’ way of saying “worldly.”

Note that most of these Christians are not apathetic about their faith. They attend weekly services and want their kids in Church. What is interesting is when we compare Catholics and Protestants on their adherence to their foundational doctrines, we get an interesting picture. Also, one caveat— I’m not sure the contrast below between Protestants and Catholics would have been so drastic in the 70s, 80s, and 90s. But let me know what you think in the comments.

Doctrine & Belief: Catholic vs. Protestant

I asked Grok, one of the top 3 Artificial Intelligences on the interwebs, the following prompts. One was about Protestants and their belief in a Biblical Worldview — a foundational tenant of conservative Protestantism. The second prompt was about Catholics and the Eucharist. The charts that Grok generated are in the footnotes.

Prompt: What percentage of U.S. Protestant Christians have a Biblical Worldview?

Answer: Approximately 11% of Christians in the U.S. have a Biblical Worldview.1

When I asked a similar question about Catholics and their foundational belief that Jesus is truly present in the Eucharist, I got a surprising answer.

Prompt: What is the percentage of U.S. Catholics that believe in the doctrine of the Eucharist?

Answer: Between Pew Research, Cara Study, and Vinea Research, approxmiately 63%-95% of Catholics believe in the true presence.2

Why bring all this up? Because for all time, including during the life of Christ, doctrine was the foundation of Christian identity. Without doctrine, we can’t even say what the Gospel is.

Turning the Gospel on Its Head

Whether we’re Catholic or Protestant, we believe that people need to know about Jesus’s life, death, and resurrection. We believe that Jesus is the only way to Heaven. However, on both sides of the Tiber, you will find Christians pushing the idea that doctrine and the institution you submit to don’t matter.

Yes, it is true that there is something called “Invincible Ignorance”, but there is also an omnipotent God who has a habit of showing up in dreams and calling people to follow his Son. A story is warranted.

Once I had a friend who did evangelism at Speaker’s Corner in London, England. It was a place frequented by Muslims and Christians. They would often debate each other, and it was genuinely an exciting place for evangelism.

On one occasion, a man told my friend that Jesus had come to him twice in dreams, and asked the Muslim man to follow him. But the man said he couldn’t do it because of what might happen to him if he did.

My friend never found out what happened to the man, but I don’t know a single Christian who thinks this man’s soul is not in jeopardy. It’s clear that he is, at least in the moment of that conversation, rejecting Christ’s call to follow him. In short, it’s a teaching from Christ. Deny yourself, and follow him.

But we should not be too hasty to judge this man. How many of us say we “follow Jesus”, but then fail to obey his teachings, sacrifice to follow him, and ultimately appear to be receiving our reward now? I don’t tell this story to judge the man but merely to point out that God cares enough about doctrine to show up to people in dreams.

Where we get in trouble with all this, is when we believe that it is better to be ignorant of God, rather than it is to know God, because we think that our ignorance is better “fire insurance” than the teachings of Christ. In short, if your doctrine, implicitly or explicitly, teaches that ignorance of the Gospel is more likely to save you than knowledge of the Gospel, you’ve got your doctrine wrong.

Regardless of our denominations, it’s clear teaching or doctrine matters. The Christians who believe they don’t have to submit to a Church or that they don’t have to submit to the entirety of their doctrinal statements, while claiming to be a member, ought to consider what God thinks of their heart attitude. It’s risky business. Scripture, history, and reason indicate that there is one teaching.

Scripture: Jesus says that his teaching is not his own. It’s the Father’s teaching.

History: The Trinity and the Incarnation are foundational doctrines of the faith because the Church preserved them. They weren’t discovered by some seminarian in 2020 staying up late in the Library reading books.

Reason: One cannot have “teachings” if you are forming a religion. There are teachers, but one teaching. Once someone changes the doctrines, there are now two “teachings”, and thus two religions.

Teaching is something that can be reasonable, but not something that can be reasoned to. Once we recognize that one teaching is universal for the whole of Christianity, it’s our duty to seek it out and submit to it with a clean conscience. May God grant us the grace to do so.

— DR

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1

GROK Generated Chart on Protestants who have a Biblical Worldview.

2

GROK Generated Chart on Catholics who believe in the Eucharist.

There comes a point in one’s journey into the Catholic Church where they move from “describing” Catholic doctrines to defending them. This is what a friend told me when I described a situation I had at work with another co-worker who was an Evangelical Protestant.

I was an Anglican Protestant, and I had not really been fully committed to investigating the Catholic Church at this time. I may have recently come across some arguments for the Eucharist and John 6 at this point, but I was definitely not in the camp of Transubstantiation yet — that is the doctrine that states the bread and wine become the body and blood of Christ.

My colleague started to explain the reasons that he rejected the Catholic doctrine, and I noticed that his arguments boiled down to the same things that the disciples and Pharisees said when they heard Jesus say, “I am the living bread that came down from heaven; whoever eats this bread will liver forever…” (Jn. 6:51).

Upon hearing this the Jewish leaders “quarreled among themselves” (Jn. 52), and said, “How can this man give us his flesh to eat?” After Jesus doubles down, we see the disciples echo the same question, “This saying is hard; who can accept it?” (Jn. 6:60).

Shortly after this, we read in that ironically cataloged verse, John 6:66, that the disciples “…no longer accompanied” Jesus. This is the scariest part of the passage. But to make matters worse, Jesus asks the rhetorical question, “Is not one of you a devil?” (Jn. 6:70). He says this in regards to Judas, the one follower who remains only to betray our Lord later.

Both the rejection of the teaching and the betrayal by Judas should be a warning to both Catholics and Protestants. Protestants should be wary of their interpretation of these passages as they are betting that they are not disobeying their Lord when the plain reading of the text seems to indicate they are. For Catholics, they have the truth, but that doesn’t mean they will persevere. We must revere Christ’s words, and avoid interpretations that justify people’s decision to abandon Christ.

For the Protestant, are your arguments motivated by the same doubts that the Pharisees and disciples have? Are you not basically saying,

“There’s no way Jesus literally meant to eat his body and drink his blood. If he did, I would either have to walk away from the faith or become Catholic. I mean, how would Jesus even do this?”

Regardless of your tradition, if you ultimately read these passages and your interpretation justifies the Pharisees’ and disciples’ decision to abandon Jesus, I would invite you to reevaluate your position. Our greatest Christian minds like St. Thomas Aquinas, St. Augustine of Hippo, and St. Paul all affirmed that the Eucharist was not merely a symbol, but the actual participation in the divine.

Similarly, if you’re a Catholic and you believe that you’re fine just taking it easy, showing up to Mass when you can, and being flippant about the fact that our altars are graced with the Son of God, then you must realize that even Judas remained but abandoned Christ at the end.

Being a Christian is not easy. Christ knew that what he was calling us to be and do was difficult. He also knew that there was nothing in our own power that would preserve us to the end. This is why he offers us his very body, blood, soul, and divinity on this pilgrimage. He does not want us to carry our cross alone, and it is in the Eucharist that we find the divine help to deny ourselves, pick up our cross, and follow him.

— DR

For those with even more doubts, here is a great video from Matt Fradd on the unique evidence for the Catholic faith.

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When I was coming into the Church, a friend of mine asked me a question about the Church’s teaching on Mary. I told him,

“I’m not sure about that, but if the teaching on the Eucharist being the actual body and blood of Jesus is true, then I can’t imagine why someone would go to any other church.”

Many Christians get hung up on the issue of the Church’s “infallibility” or Marian dogmas, confession, etc. But suppose, for the sake of argument, we set those doctrines aside for a moment and assumed that the Catholic Church was just as capable of error as the rest of the denominations. With one exception, they were 100% correct about their dogmas about the Eucharist. Mainly,

Having passed from the world to the Father, Christ gives us in the Eucharist the pledge of glory with him. Participation in the Holy Sacrifice identifies us with his Heart, sustains our strength along the pilgrimage of this life, makes us long for eternal life, and unites us even now to the Chruch in heaven, the Blessed Virgin Mary, and all the saints.

CCC. 1419.

Now, it is true that God is present to us in a myriad of ways. He is omnipresent, present in the poor, present in prayer, etc. I know many Christians who still believe this, but also have a deep desire to be in the presence of Christ as the disciples were in those early years of the Church. This is one of the main reasons Protestants visit the Holy Land. It is because they want the spiritual experience of being in the places where Jesus walked, to touch the dirt that touched the Son of God.

But what if Jesus really meant what he said, “I am the bread of life”? This would mean that his incarnation has continued on Earth, and you could be in the very presence of God just by being a Catholic, or by visiting an adoration chapel.

Now, be honest. Would you really be concerned about the dogmas around Mary being assumed into heaven if by becoming Catholic you could actually be united to Christ or sit in his presence right now? Would it really matter if you didn’t understand the “Mary stuff”, but knew that Jesus was truly and substantially present, body, blood, soul, and divinity in the Eucharist? The teaching of the Church, as well as the Church Fathers, testify to this very fact; Jesus never left us.

When I read the Catechism’s teaching on the Eucharist, I thought to myself “If this is true, then there is no reason to be in any other Church.” What was particularly shocking was discovering the early Church Fathers and their teachings on the matter. I was convinced that the Eucharistic teaching was something that came later, but this is not true. Here are just three very early sources that say the Eucharist is the body and blood of Jesus.

The History of the Eucharist

St. Ignatius of Antioch was writing around 110 A.D., and he had actually heard John, the man who penned the words “Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life…” St. Ignatius says,

I desire the bread of God, which is the flesh of Jesus Christ; who was the seed of David; and for drink I desire his blood, which is love incorruptible.

— Letter to the Romans 7 (A.D. 110).

St. Justin Martyr was writing around A.D. 151. He is the patron saint of apologists, as he was the most important apologist of his day. In other words, he was arguing for the truth of the Christian faith in the 100-150 A.D. He writes,

We call this food Eucharist…For not as common bread nor common drink do we receive these; but since Jesus Christ our Savior was made incarnate by the word of God and had both flesh and blood for our salvation, so too, as we have been tuaght, the food that has been made into the Eucharist by the eucharistic prayer set down by him, and by the change of which our blood and flesh is nurtured, is both the flesh and blood of that incarnated Jesus.

— First Apology 66 (A.D. 151).

Finally, St. Augustine of Hippo, one of the most famous Church Fathers, and a favorite among sola scriptura Protestants says,

“The bread you see on the altar, having been sanctified by the word of God, is the body of Christ. The chalice, or rather what is in the chalice, having been sanctified by the word of God, is the blood of Christ.”

— Sermons 227 (A.D. 411).

The teaching on the Eucharist is Biblical, it is historical, and it has been taught for over 2000 years. Now, we must ask ourselves the question, “Is Jesus a liar?”

Is Jesus a Liar?

Multiple times Jesus doubles down to emphasize his point to the crowds. When they start to question him, Jesus says emphatically, “Amen, amen I say to you…” the “amens” emphasize the seriousness with which Christ speaks. He is either deceiving them or telling them a hard truth.

If Protestants want to say that Jesus is speaking metaphorically here, that’s an odd take. First, we would accuse any other human being of lying if they said, “No seriously, I’m going to travel out West…No, seriously, seriously. I’m going.” If we later found out that this speaker meant, “I did go out west. I went two feet towards California, so I went West.” We would rightly call him a liar, deceiver, lunatic, or just a “not-so-great” person.

Jesus is none of these things. Earlier in this discourse he said to his hearers that they would “be taught by God.” We the readers know that he is the one who is God and also is doing the teaching. So it would be quite scandalous for Christ to begin his emphatic “amens” to the people with this subtle nod to his divinity, and then proceed to tell them a riddle.

The other teachings, infallibility, Marian dogmas, moral teachings, etc., of the Church are difficult, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t true. But Christians who study scripture and read this passage, and then interpret Jesus in a way that would prevent all his followers from abandoning him, as they did in John 6:66, are ultimately taking the side of the apostates. Jesus is not speaking metaphorically here, otherwise, the Church’s founding was not just “kind of in error”, but for the majority of the Church’s life, it actually taught a lie.

In short, the evidence for the Church’s teaching about the Eucharist goes like this:

• Scripture testifies to the fact that Christ offered his body and blood to believers.

• History and the greatest Christian minds that ever lived also believed this and witnessed Christians dying for this belief.

• The practice continues to this day. Masses are offered all over the world, and adoration chapels invite all Christians to sit in the presence of the Lord.

Belief is not enough for salvation. We must also obey. An obedience that believes submits to a doctrine that is knowable only by faith. As St. Thomas Aquinas wrote,

— DR

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I debated extending this reading into the broader Eucharistic discourse but decided against it after the phrase “…I will not reject anyone who comes to me…” continued to be a nuisance in my mind. This passage also aligns with the reading of the Lord of the Rings I did with my kids tonight.

Tonight, the hobbit adventurers just reached Rivendale, the city where the angel-like elves rule in a “heaven-on-earth” kingdom. After receiving healing from the King of Rivendale, Elrond, Frodo is invited to a banquet. As he takes his seat, Tolkien describes the wonder Frodo is experiencing as a little hobbit who has found himself dining among the elvish royalty:

“…[Frodo] was both surprised and abashed to find that he had a seat at Elrond’s table among all these folk so high and fair. Though he had a suitable chair, and was raised upon several cushions, he felt very small and rather out of place; but that fealing quickly passed.”1

This description fits my heart very well during and after Mass at our parish. It’s hard to believe that it’s been a year since coming into the Church. At the time, I wrote a piece explaining my conversion and how I felt like a “little hobbit” entering a massive Kingdom. Having not read the LOTR, I did not expect there to be a description that matched so well my experience every Sunday at Mass.2

The word “Catholic” means “Universal”. The Catholic Church is the universal solution to the universal problem of sin. I’ve heard it said once, “All are welcome, but not all are willing.” This is important in the context of Jesus’ words, “I will not reject anyone who comes to me.” Perhaps a retelling of my first confession will clarify what I mean.

As I prepared for my first confession, I didn’t know what to expect. Honestly, I was not nervous. I was more curious than anything else. For those that don’t know, the first confession is required before coming into the Church. The older you are, the more intense it can be. The reason is that you reflect on your entire life up to that point and then tell the priest your sins beginning with the sins that were the most wicked. Given that I was around 35 years old, I had a lot of sins to remember and reflect upon. So I wrote them down in a journal and then went to the Church.

I stood in line for about 20 minutes. Then it was my turn. I entered the confessional and explained to the priest I was a convert and that this was my first confession. What happened next can only be described as a crushing “conversion experience”.

As I began to say each sin to the priest, the weight of my sin became heavier and heavier, and heavier. When I was a Protestant, I did not realize how much I had rationalized so many of my sins. This became apparent as I confessed each sin to the priest. But with each confessed sin, my heart broke a little bit more.

Finally, I was crushed. I had said all the sins that I could remember, and I was weeping in a confessional. For the first time in my life, I could echo with my whole heart, “Lord, have mercy on me, a sinner.”

The priest gave me some words of encouragement, absolved me of my sins, and then I exited the confessional.

The sanctuary was mostly empty at this point. I walked directly to the communion rail, fell to my knees, and continued to weep. What had been a past covered in shadow and sin, was now illuminated by the various ways God had guided me to this moment. Mary, the saints, and all of Heaven had played some role in bringing me to this very moment.

Up until then, I had never felt the love of God more potently, nor had I realized the depth of my need for Christ. After I finished praying, I got up, wiped my eyes, and called my wife.

My experience in the confessional has privileged me to understand these words at a depth I could not have known as a Protestant: “…I will not reject anyone who comes to me…” It is a grace only found in the Sacraments. It is not a psychological thing. You cannot get this talking to a friend, a coach, a counselor, or any other manmade thing. It’s a “thin place” and it is available to any who wants it.

Jesus will not reject anyone, but that does not mean that everyone will accept him. The Church really does have the words of life, and anyone can experience them. If you are a Protestant scratching your head about this whole confession thing, I pray that you continue to pull on the threads that will lead you to your first confession. If you’re a Catholic who has not been back to confession in a long time, go back. Christ is waiting, and he will not reject anyone who comes to him for healing.

— DR

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When I first heard about the idea that scripture was perspicuous, that is lucid or clear, I thought this was obviously false since there are so many odd passages in the Bible. My personal favorite to cite on the issue of textual obscurity is Exodus 23:19: “Do not cook a young goat in its mother’s milk.” But the apologists of scriptural perspicuity will say, “Well, those verses are not necessary for salvation. But the passages about salvation, those are clear.” The passages we are about to go through this week — John 6 — demonstrate this is not the case.

One such passage is John 6:27. The people have followed Jesus across the sea and are ready for their next meal. Jesus says,

“Amen, amen I say to you, you are looking for me not because you saw signs but because you ate the loaves and were filled. Do not work for food that perishes but for the food that endures for eternal life, which the Son of Man will give you…”

— Jn. 6:26-27 (emphasis added)

This passage is not clear. The audience is as perplexed as we are. They respond, “What can we do to accomplish the works of God?” To which Jesus replies,

“This is the work of God, that you believe in the one he sent.”

— Jn. 6:29

As we enter into the rest of John 6, we will see that this is not merely belief in Jesus as our Savior but also Jesus as the Truth. Today, many Christians presume that to fulfill Jesus’ requirement for belief is simply to say or think the proposition, “I believe in Jesus” or “I believe Jesus is Lord of my life.” However, Jesus is not just asking them to believe that he existed or that he was a good teacher, but that his words were the “words of life.”

Many Christians treat scripture as if it is some divinely inspired “cognitive-behavioral” handbook, where the scripture acts as a psychological corrective that leads to better behavior and, ergo, better societies. But while this may be an effect of the scriptures, that is, curbing one’s illicit and immoral behaviors, studying and knowing scripture alone is not sufficient for salvation — John 5:39: “You search the scriptures because you think you have eternal life through them…”

It is not enough to merely believe or study the Bible really hard. We must also receive Christ into our bodies and souls, a practice that goes back to the first century of the Church. This is the work of God in us, that he moves us to receive Christ in the bread and wine on the altar. Christ’s body is “true food,” and his blood is “true drink.”

This is why the Catholic teaching is the teaching on the Eucharist. All other forms are incomplete expressions or half-truths of the full truth that is mandated by Christ and his Church.

Finally, one of my subscribers commented on my content recently and cited passages from the Catechism of the Catholic Church (CCC) about Baptism being valid among other denominations. This is true.

The Catechism says that the baptismal rites of other Protestant denominations are valid and that it puts the believer into an “imperfect” communion with the Church. But Protestants should be wary to read this from their doctrinal commitments like predestination or “once saved always saved” as if they now have insurance through two different providers.

According to the Catechism, citing the Council of Trent, it states:

Penance has rightly been called by the holy Fathers “a laborious kind of baptism.” This sacrament of Penance is necessary for salvation for those who have fallen after Baptism, just as Baptism is necessary for salvation for those who have not yet been reborn.

— CCC. 980.

The above quote is important because Protestants can still commit mortal sin. I had a friend tell me once that he agreed with the Catholic belief that sterilization was a frustration of the telos, that they were correct about the philosophical issues at play, and that he was going to go through with it anyway. If he does, he will need the Sacrament of Penance to heal that mortal wound. Hence, the Church teaches,

The authority of the Magisterium extends also to the specific precepts of the natural law, because their observance, demanded by the Creator, is necessary for salvation.

— CCC. 2036.

Finally, the Catechism states that salvation comes through the “sacraments of the New Covenant.”

The Church affirms that for believers the sacraments of the New Covenant are necessary for slavtion.

— CCC. 1129. (emphasis in original).

Some may say, “This is harsh!” But every denomination out there believes that if a doctrine is a teaching of Christ himself, and the person rejects that or deliberately disobeys it, they have either fallen away from the faith or were never saved in the first place. In the end, scripture is perspicuous on the nature of salvation, but only if you're Catholic.

— DR

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The Bible does not cater to our assumptions. It is a complicated book full of paradoxes. One of these is the paradox of fearing God. Throughout the Bible, man is exhorted to fear God. Proverbs 9:10 says, “The beginning of wisdom is fear of the Lord, and knowledge of the Holy One is understanding.” Yet, Jesus says, “Do not be afraid,” and this is after Christ invokes his “divine name” — “It is I,” literally meaning “I AM.”1

Here is the scene for those who may not be aware. The Jewish crowds have just attempted to make Christ their king, but he sneaks away and goes to be alone. The disciples get into a boat, cross the sea, and meet up with Christ later.2 John describes the scene this way,

“It had already grown dark, and Jesus had not yet come to them. The sea was stirred up because a strong wind was blowing…they saw Jesus walking on the seas and coming near the boat, and they begn to be afraid” — Jn. 6:17-19

There are many amazing allusions to Christ’s divinity here, but we will miss them if we are not well-read in our scriptures. First, there is the allusion to the transfiguration depicted in the other Gospels. In Matthew’s Gospel, we see a similar description,

“[Jesus] was still speaking when, behold, a bright cloud overshadowed them, and a voice from the cloud said, ‘This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased; listen to him.’ When the disciples heard this, they fell on their faces and were terrified.” — Mt. 17:5-6

Jesus then tells his disciples, “Do not be afraid.” We also see an allusion to the Old Testament in both the story of Creation and Moses at the Parting of the Red Sea.

The Creation account describes the “Spirit of God” hovering over the waters (Gen. 1:1). In the New Testament, the Spirit of God overshadows people, specifically Mary, the Mother of God. The waters of the womb are overshadowed by the Spirit of God, and the Son of God is conceived.

In Moses, we see a prefigurement or foreshadowing of Christ. Moses is the first deliverer of Israel, and in this story, he finds himself in a precarious situation. They had their enemy, the Egyptians, on one side and the Red Sea blocking their escape on the other. Here, we see the same themes in John’s account of the disciples in the storm:

• Fear — “Greatly frightened, the Israelites cried out to the Lord” (Ex. 14:10).

• Do not fear! — “But Moses answered the people, ‘Do not fear! Stand your ground and see the victory the Lord will win for you today’” (14:13).

• Darkness — “And when it became dark, the cloud illumined the night…”(14:20).

• The Lord commands the sea — “the Lord drove back the sea…” (14:21a)

• Traversing the sea at night — “…with a strong east wind all night long and turned the sea into dry ground” (14:21b).

In Genesis, we see the Lord hovering over the waters and making a home for his creatures. In Exodus, we see the Lord separating the waters by the word of his servant Moses and making a way for his people. In John’s Gospel, this same Word of God neither hovers nor separates the water but is walking on it. In this act, Jesus demonstrates that he is both God and man; he is the King of Heaven and the King of Earth, and water is just one of his many subjects.

But how can water bow to her King? She cannot. So the only submissive posture this servant of chaos can take is to offer her waves as a road for Christ’s mortal feat. At his presence, not his word, she fearfully submits by offering up her back upon which the King’s feet will trod — “He alone stretches out the heavens
and treads upon the back of the sea” (Job. 9:8).

“Do not be afraid” is a paradox. On the one hand, we should be afraid in our encounters with the Lord. It would be foolish to presume we are free to treat God like our “buddy.” At the same time, the only one who could calm our fears is the very one whose being requires it and whose very presence evokes it. But how would we ever know this if he did not tell us, “Do not be afraid”?

These truths make sense, not because some philosopher wrote them down, but because God showed us these truths by living them out before our mortal eyes. Pardoxes are not possible to understand outside of real life. If we only meditate on paradoxes conceptually, we will find ourselves favoring one pole of the conundrum over the other; we will either be cowards or fools, but it is only in walking on the same path our savior walked that we find the way between these two options. It is a narrow way, but thank God he walked it first.

The World hates the Truth, but it is only the Truth that can save the World. If we keep the Christian faith only in the psychological or abstract, it will become meaningless. Christianity is an incarnate truth. Our faith must become fleshy, something we can see, taste, touch, and smell, and upon receiving it, our souls will be elevated to the transcendent. This is what happens when we encounter Christ in the Eucharist: we find ourselves in a “space between”, that is, a space between heaven and earth; The Son of God “walks upon our altars” and says, “It is I. Do not be afraid.” The only question for us is, will we allow him into our bodies and souls, to heal and transform us into the saint he has predestined us to be?

— DR

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John’s Gospel starts off telling us that “The Jewish feast of Passover was near.” What transpires next is the feeding of the five thousand. There are many interesting symbols and allusions to the Old Testament in this section. We could talk about Moses going up to Mount Sinai and Jesus going up the Mountain; we could talk about Jesus’ command to the people to “recline in the grass” and its allusion to Psalm 23:2 — “He makes me lie down in green pastures”; we could discuss the significance of the twelve baskets, or the barley and its parallel to Elisha’s feeding of the few hundred. Instead, I would like to focus on the distinction between King Saul and King Jesus.

The crowd, it is stated, is following Jesus because of his miracles (Jn. 6:2). It’s clear that those who follow Jesus because of his miracles and not his teachings are shallow in their faith. They are like the seed on rocky soil. If they don’t have the miraculous, their faith will wither. Our commentators affirm this as well:

“The Gospel has shown that those who come to Jesus on account of his miracles often possess a shallow interest in him because they see him only as a wonder-worker (2:23-25; 4:48)”1

We must be wary that we are not following Jesus for the same reasons. Otherwise, we will follow a version of Jesus that is appealing to us and our modern senses, rather than the Jesus that is true yesterday, today, and tomorrow.

After Jesus has filled the crowds, they begin to get excited and intend to make Jesus their king. It may be the case that this is an allusion to the actions of their forefathers when they desired a king over Israel rather than God:

So all the elders of Israel gathered together. They came to Samuel at Ramah. ⁵ They said to him, “You are old. Your sons don’t live as you do. So appoint a king to lead us. We want a king just like the kings all the other nations have.”2

The Jewish people are not thinking here, “We will have a king just like the other kings.” They are thinking, “Our king will be far superior to any king in the world. How do you like them apples?” But isn’t this how we all would prefer it?

The Jewish people desired to be free. They were awaiting a savior that would liberate them from the hands of the Roman empire. Many have tried but in vain. After seeing a miracle like this, who could blame them for thinking in these terms?

Jesus is not the King we want; he is the King we need. This is ultimately the difference between Protestantism and Catholicism. In Protestantism, Jesus can be as modern and symbolic or as ancient and radical as you want him to be; in short, for every man’s desire to make Jesus his king, there is a commune of believers organized around a Jesus that is most appealing to them. But when you come into the Church, you are offered the teachings of Christ and the Church. Mainly, without the Eucharist, you do not have eternal life. You are free to accept or reject this teaching, but you are not free to make Jesus into the king you prefer.

A modern church is not an authentic church. It must twist and bend the text to make it say something its original audience would have never accepted. If they adopted non-Christian ideas, they were ejected from the ancient Christian communities, or they just left (Jn. 6:66). Our faith is ancient, and the world has always attempted to make the Church in its image. As our commentary states:

…The temptation to be a Church other than the one willed by the Father by accepting people’s criteria of what a proper church should be…Many in the world offer acceptance to the Church if hte Church does as they say. Yet the Church must always be the Church willed by the Father and, when necessary, suffer ridicule and even rejection as its Lord did. Only then can the Church be the faithful witness that ultimately leads people to salvation in Christ.3

— DR

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Testimony is a frustrating thing for both the hearer and the witness. The witness has seen something amazing, usually something indescribable. The witness tries to tell his friend or enemies the event or truth he has been privy to. Words fail, misunderstandings occur, and frustration rises quickly when the witness and the listeners are not in sync. Yet, this is how God has decided that he will spread the Gospel, by testimony.

According to our commentary, Jesus participates in the Jewish principle of not arguing his own case. They write, “For the sake of argument, Jesus grants the Jewish legal principle that forbids self-testimony in a judicial proceeding.” This is why Jesus says, “…my testimony cannot be verified” (Jn. 5:31). So, Jesus deploys the testimony of others to make his case.

The order in which Jesus does this is interesting. He begins with John the Baptist, then miracles that “…the Father gave,” the Father’s direct testimony — “The Father who sent me has testified…”— and finally, the scriptures. This order is not an accident. The Gospel writers use order intentionally. You see this explicitly with the number of times that Peter is listed first when the disciples are listed.

This is not to say that Christ has a low view of these scriptures. After all, in the next section, John 5:41-47, Jesus says that they don’t believe the words of Moses, but if they did, then they would believe him. So what are we to make of this?

Christianity is a cumulative case combining both our experiences with the written word of God, as well as the living Word of God in the Eucharist. This is what has changed my life. This is my testimony.

Christ, the Good Shepherd, desired for my family and me to be in his Church. He gave me wonderful parents to raise me and train me in the scriptures. Then, after a washed-out athletic career and a failed attempt at an academic one, I was stuck by a pool of relativistic protestantism and doctrinal rationalism. The healing I needed came to me the way Christ taught it would: through the actual body and blood of Jesus in the Eucharist.

After receiving the Eucharist for the first time and spending time in Adoration. For the first time in my life, I could echo the desire of King David, “I want to dwell in the house of the Lord forever.”

— DR

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