Tuesday of the Fourth Week of Easter

“My sheep hear my voice, says the Lord;
I know them, and they follow me.”

The Gospel has been circling the same field all week—
gate, shepherd, sheep—
and now, at last, we come to the most mysterious element of all:

the voice.

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This is my present puzzle.

For there are many voices at The Glenn:
the wind, the dogs, the sheep, the occasional mechanical protest of something breaking at precisely the wrong moment.

And yet none of these is quite the voice I am meant to follow.

Joshua Correa, in his steady and soldierly way, suggests that the answer is perseverance.

Revised Standard Version (RSV) translation New Testament: • Luke 11:2-4 • Luke 11:9-13 • James 1:12 Old Testament: • Psalm 139:1-12 Catechism of the Catholic Church: • Paragraph 2766 Takeaways: • The Gospel and Psalm show God’s deep love and remind us to persevere confidently in prayer. • Nothing can hide us from God…even darkness is light to Him. Turning to Him brings joy, because He patiently waits for us. • Jesus teaches the perfect prayer in the “Our Father,” showing that God gives good gifts to those who persevere through life’s trials. • Even if you feel distant because of past choices, God’s love is greater than your mistakes; He is waiting for you to return to Him.

Which is not nearly as romantic as revelation,
but is infinitely more reliable.

So I have constructed what I grandly call a “rule of life”—
which, like most of my rules, is followed imperfectly but maintained stubbornly.

Prayer.
Work.
Sacred reading.

Daily Mass, when I can.
The Hours, when I remember.
The Rosary, when I slow down.

Manual labor—which has a way of silencing foolish thoughts by replacing them with blisters.

And Lectio Divina—which has a way of replacing blisters with meaning.

Yesterday I spent a considerable amount of time in a hole—
which is to say, I was digging through mud in pursuit of a water leak.

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There is nothing quite so clarifying as mud.

It removes illusion.
It simplifies priorities.
It insists on presence.

And there, covered in dirt, I realized something rather obvious:

The Shepherd’s voice is not something I hear instead of life—
but within it.

Not apart from the rule—
but through it.

For perseverance is not merely repetition—
it is relationship sustained over time.

And perhaps the most comforting thought of all is this:

teach me to listen.

There are many sounds that fill my days,
many urgencies that demand my attention,
many distractions that mimic importance.

And yet Your voice does not compete—
it calls.

Give me perseverance in the small things:
in prayer that feels dry,
in work that feels endless,
in reading that feels slow.

For I know that it is not in sudden clarity,
but in steady faithfulness,
that I come to recognize You.

Let me remain close enough to hear,
quiet enough to notice,
and willing enough to follow.

A bearded figure in a red and gold bishop's attire, holding a staff with a cross at the top, gazes thoughtfully. The background features a soft blue sky with clouds.

There is a curious consistency among the saints:

They hear what others miss—not because the voice is louder,
but because their lives are quieter.

A sepia-toned illustration of a religious figure, with a halo, praying with clasped hands at a table. A rosary and a statue of the Virgin Mary are visible on the table.

Saint Louis-Marie de Montfort listened so intently to the voice of God that he gave his entire life to proclaiming devotion to Christ through Mary—a voice within a voice, one might say, echoing obedience.

Portrait of a man wearing a black cloak and holding a crucifix, with a halo behind his head.

Saint Peter Chanel heard the call to preach in distant lands, where his voice was ultimately silenced by violence—yet it was precisely then that it became unmistakable.

A statue of a nun with a white veil and black dress, holding a flower, located near a glass entrance to a church.

Blessed María Guggiari Echeverría responded to the quiet interior voice of sacrifice, offering her life in hiddenness rather than acclaim.

Chesterton would note the delightful paradox:

The louder the world becomes,
the more quietly God speaks.

And yet, it is this quiet voice that moves mountains,
converts hearts,
and leads sheep across entire continents.

For the voice of the Shepherd is not an argument—
it is an invitation.

And those who follow it do not always understand where they are going—
but they always know who they are following.

Logo of the Laudato Si' Action Platform, featuring a stylized tree design with a gradient of colors, and the text 'LAUDATO SI' Action Platform' in a modern font.
Logo of Pope Francis' encyclical 'Laudato Si' featuring a globe surrounded by smiling children and green leaves.
Laudato si’ §70

Laudato si’ reminds me that creation itself speaks—a kind of voice that calls for attentive listening and responsible care.

Action:

Today, I will pause at least once in each part of my “rule”—prayer, work, and reading—and consciously ask:

What voice am I listening to right now?

For Synodality is not merely walking together—
it is listening together.

A powerful anthem about listening and responding—but the Gospel refines it: not every voice is the voice.
A dark reminder that not all voices lead to life—discernment is not optional, but essential.
8. Poetic Verse

Amid the noise of daily things,
I strained to hear it clear—
a voice not loud, yet strangely near,
that waited for my ear.

Not in the storm, nor in the rush,
nor in the shouted claim—
but in the work, the word, the prayer,
it quietly became.

So let me keep the simple rule,
though poorly I may start—
for those who stay within His sound
will learn to know His heart.

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