Thursday of the Fifth Week of Lent

God makes a covenant with Abraham—
not a contract of equals,
but a promise of presence:

“…to be your God…”

The Psalm reminds me that God remembers—
even when I forget.

“Not once, not occasionally—
but forever.”

And then comes the warning:

If today you hear his voice,
harden not your hearts.

For the voice will come—
but the question is whether I am listening
or merely speaking to myself.

And in the Gospel, Christ confronts the deepest illusion:

“Who do you make yourself out to be?”

And answers with divine simplicity:

If I glorify myself, my glory is worth nothing.

“I don’t think of myself as being religious.”

And I must admit—
I cringed.

For I immediately thought of myself:

Daily Mass.
The Liturgy of the Hours.
The Rosary.
Lectio Divina.

If these are not the marks of a religious man,
then what, I wondered, could possibly qualify?

My instinctive response rose up,
almost with comic force:

“Of course I am religious.”

But then came the quieter voice—
far less flattering,
and far more truthful:

“Why?”

Why do I do these things?

Is it, perhaps, to make something of myself?
To build a certain image?
To reassure myself
that I am, indeed, a man of faith?

For if so, then Christ’s words strike with uncomfortable precision:

“If I glorify myself,
my glory is worth nothing.”

Which is a devastating thought—
that one could spend a lifetime doing holy things
for unholy reasons.

And yet, the same voice offers a strange liberation:

If I do these things not to glorify myself,
but to know Him—
to be known by Him—
to belong to Him—

then perhaps I need not call myself religious at all.

Perhaps I may simply say:

“I am trying, however imperfectly,
to love.”

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We are forever making something out of ourselves—
an identity,
a reputation,
a story.

Even our virtues become props
in the theater of self-importance.

But Christ does something extraordinary:

He refuses to glorify Himself.

Which is, paradoxically,
why He is glorious.

For the man who seeks to make something of himself
ends with very little—
while the man who forgets himself
finds that God remembers him entirely.

The covenant is not built on what I make of myself,
but on what God makes of me.

I confess that I am often preoccupied
with what I make of myself.

I measure my worth
by what I do,
how I appear,
how I am perceived.

Even my devotion
can become a mirror
in which I admire myself.

Break this habit in me.

Teach me to seek You
rather than myself.

To pray not to be seen,
but to see.

To act not to be praised,
but to love.

When I am tempted to glorify myself,
remind me
that my glory is nothing
unless it comes from You.

Let me forget myself
just enough
to remember You.

Amen.

Laudato si’ §85

authentic human flourishing is not self-centered,
but rooted in relationship—with God, with others, and with creation.

Today, I will step outside of myself:

Communion is the Diocese of Amarillo’s Centennial pillar for March
  • I will listen more than I speak.
  • I will serve without announcing it.
  • I will recognize Christ in others rather than reflecting on my own virtue.

To walk synodally
is to walk together—
not as individuals performing for one another,
but as persons accompanying one another.

For communion begins
when I stop making much of myself
and start making room for others.

A haunting reminder that a life centered on the self
ultimately leads to isolation.
The danger is not being alone—
but becoming the only one who matters.
A comedic exaggeration of divided identity—
revealing the absurdity of a life turned inward.
When everything revolves around “myself,”
something essential is lost.
Kick off your day with 5 minutes of faith! Revised Standard Version (RSV) translation New Testament: • Luke 6:27-36 • Matthew 18:21 Old Testament: • Proverbs 25:21-22 Catechism of the Catholic Church: • Paragraph 1970 • Paragraph 2263 Takeaways: • Saint Jerome taught that responding to someone’s wrongdoing with kindness can soften their heart, burn away their anger, and lead them to repentance. • When someone annoys you…like cutting you off in traffic…try praying for them instead of reacting in anger. • If people insult or mistreat you because of your faith, stay faithful and hopeful. Jesus promises that your reward in heaven will be great.
If starting a conversation at church feels like a leap of faith…you’re not alone. 🙏 You know the moment — you lock eyes with someone after church, and suddenly you’re spiritually obligated to say something. 👀 Panic sets in, and now you’re deeply invested in the nearest exit sign. “What do I say?” “Is this weird?” “Do I abort mission?” 😬 This week on The Introverted Apostle, we’re diving into the art of starting conversations without overthinking yourself into silence…moving past the awkward and into authentic connection, one small, brave step at a time. And yes…we’re laughing our way through it, because let’s be honest — we’ve all been there. 😅
Move over, celebrity sightings…this is a Sacred Heart sighting! ❤️ Duane and Theresa are popping up in parishes everywhere, helping families put Christ at the heart of their homes and spreading devotion that’s anything but half-hearted. But wherever they go, they’re on fire for the Sacred Heart of Jesus. 🔥 In this episode, Duane and Theresa talk First Fridays, 12 powerful promises, and why enthroning your home might be the best “heart upgrade” you’ll ever make. Warning: Sacred Heart enthusiasm may be contagious. ❤️🔥
My Story
Photo used by permission of Douglas Kirkland/Corbis via Getty Images
Memorial in the Grotto of St. Mary’s Cathedral. The inscription says:
In memory of the death of innocence of the victims of clergy sexual abuse. When innocence dies…a life stops. It is essential that we never forget.
I was one of “the few” Bishop Zurek spoke of in this letter. He first posted it in August of 2019, and in response to my, “calling out all the more“, he kept reposting it atop the diocesan news page until December 11, 2019. There it remains to this day.
Fr. Ed Graff, brought here from Philadelphia by Bishop Matthiesen, was arrested in 2002 for sexually assaulting a minor and died later that year in jail. Despite the harm linked to his ministry, he was buried in an honored section of Llano Cemetery among our pioneering clergy — a decision that continues to wound survivors and raise hard questions for our diocese.
A tribute to Bishop Matthiesen—now a complex symbol in our diocesan history, erected by former priest John Salazar, whose later abuse conviction reminds us how painful chapters of the Church’s past must be faced honestly as we seek healing and communion.

While we recognize your thoughtful suggestion for a renewed dialogue on Bishop Matthiesen, the present circumstances do not present an opportunity for it. I think it would foster division not dialogue. We remain confident in God’s providence and hopeful for what the future may bring.

from a letter dated March 5, 2026

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