1. Lectio
“I am the bread of life; whoever comes to me will never hunger,
and whoever believes in me will never thirst…”
It is a Gospel thick with a single word:
Repeated not as vanity, but as invitation.
For Christ does not point beyond Himself—
He points to Himself.
2. Meditatio
As I walk The Glenn in the evening, attending to the ordinary business of animals and land, I am arrested—quite unexpectedly—by a single iris.
Purple and white.
Standing there like a quiet proclamation among its less ambitious companions.
And it seems, in its own botanical way, to say:
“Come to me.”
Now, if I said such a thing, it would sound intolerable.
If I built a life upon such a phrase, it would be unbearable.
But the flower says it without pride.
And Christ says it without apology.
And suddenly I see the strange problem:
I am quite comfortable saying “me”—
as long as I am the one speaking.
My work.
My time.
My prayer.
My life.
But when Christ says “me,”
I hesitate.
Because His “me” does not compete with mine.
Or threaten to replace it.
And yet, here in the field, the iris quietly resolves the conflict:
Its beauty is not diminished by drawing attention.
It fulfills its purpose precisely by inviting.
“Come to me.”
And then, with a touch of divine humor, I notice something even more absurd:
As though the journey itself were designed to deliver me
not into myself—
but into Him.
3. Oratio
Lord Jesus, Bread of Life,
You who dare to say
teach me to hear it rightly.
I have filled my life with my own “me,”
guarding it, promoting it, defending it—
as though it were the center of all things.
And yet, You invite me not to erase myself,
but to find myself in You.
Draw me out of the smallness of my own concerns
into the fullness of Your presence.
Let my “me” no longer compete with Yours,
but rest within it.
For You do not call me to lose myself in nothing—
but to find myself in Someone.
Amen.
4. Contemplatio (Chestertonian Synthesis)
The modern world has a curious obsession with the self.
It says, “Be yourself,”
which is excellent advice—
provided one knows what a self is.
But Christ offers something far more radical:
“Come to me.”
Which is not a denial of the self,
but its fulfillment.
The paradox is delicious:
The more I insist upon me,
the smaller I become.
The more I surrender to His me,
the larger I live.
For the self is not a fortress to be defended,
but a door to be opened.
And Christ stands at that door, not knocking—but calling:
“Come to me.”
5. Actio — In Light of Laudato Si’ and Synodality
“Mountains have heights and they are plentiful, vast, beautiful, graceful, bright and fragrant. These mountains are what my Beloved is to me. Lonely valleys are quiet, pleasant, cool, shady and flowing with fresh water; in the variety of their groves and in the sweet song of the birds, they afford abundant recreation and delight to the senses, and in their solitude and silence, they refresh us and give rest. These valleys are what my Beloved is to me”.[163]
Laudato si’ §234
Laudato si’ reminds me that creation is not self-centered but relational—everything exists in reference to something beyond itself.
Action:
Today, I will take one moment where I am tempted to center everything on me—my needs, my schedule, my comfort—and instead consciously re-center it on Christ or another person.
For Synodality is not walking toward me—
but toward Him, together.
6. Song Pairing 🎵
🎶 “Wanna Talk About Me” by Toby Keith🎵
7. Movie Pairing 🎬
🎬Movie: “Despicable Me” (2010)
8. Poetic Verse
I spoke of me in careful terms,
and built my little throne—
a kingdom small, yet fiercely kept,
and proudly called my own.
But then a voice beyond my walls
spoke softly, wild, and free:
“Come out from all you think you are,
and come instead to Me.”
And there I found, not loss, but life—
not less, but more to be—
for I am only fully me
when I am found in Thee.