Lectio Divina for Friday of the Fourteenth Week in Ordinary Time
Theme: “Speak”
1. Lectio
Gospel: Matthew 10:19–20
“When they hand you over, do not worry about how you are to speak or what you are to say. You will be given at that moment what you are to say. For it will not be you who speak but the Spirit of your Father speaking through you.”
Jesus does not promise me prepared speeches; he promises me a present Spirit. The question is not whether I can speak eloquently, but whether I am willing to become quiet enough for Another to speak through me.
How do I know if what I speak is from me or from the Spirit of my Father?
2. Meditatio
I am often tempted to prepare these Lectio Divinas a day or two in advance. It would give me more time in the cool of the morning to work around The Glenn, leaving the heat of the afternoon for writing. By every measure of efficiency, that seems like the wiser plan. Yet for some reason my conscience refuses to let me do it.
Perhaps today’s Gospel explains why.
Jesus says that I will be given what I am to speak at that moment. If I prepare everything the day before, there is a greater chance that what I write comes from the storehouse of my own thoughts. But in the quiet hours before dawn, when the house is still, the sheep are asleep, and even the birds have not yet begun their songs, I am more inclined to let the Holy Spirit wander where He wills.
Rarely do I know beforehand what these reflections will become. More often than not, the ideas that seem brilliant the night before appear stale by sunrise. Yet when I begin with nothing but today’s Gospel, words arise that surprise me. After posting them, I often feel embarrassed and think, “Why did I write that?” Perhaps that embarrassment is itself a sign. Pride rarely blushes. The Spirit frequently leads me somewhere I would never have chosen on my own.
That realization has begun to shape not only my writing but my farming.
If I approach life at The Glenn merely as a manager seeking efficiency, then I will inevitably speak the language of control, consumption, and immediate results. But if I allow myself to stand in awe before creation, I begin to learn another language—the language of fraternity, gratitude, and beauty. Grass is no longer simply forage. Sheep become more than production units. Soil is no longer dirt but a living communion entrusted to my care.
Pope Leo reminds us in Magnifica Humanitas that the Church’s Social Doctrine is not a museum of old ideas but a living wisdom that speaks to every generation. As artificial intelligence, environmental challenges, and new economic realities reshape the world, he calls me back to enduring principles: the dignity of every human person, the common good, solidarity, subsidiarity, social justice, and the universal destination of goods. None of these principles stands alone. Like the members of a flock, each depends upon the others if the whole is to flourish.
Perhaps that is also how the Holy Spirit speaks. Not by offering isolated inspirations detached from truth, but by weaving together Scripture, creation, the Church’s wisdom, and the ordinary events of a summer morning into a single conversation with Christ.
3. Oratio
Lord Jesus,
Teach me first to listen before I try to speak.
Too often I rehearse my own opinions, perfect my own arguments, and admire the sound of my own voice. Yet You promise that Your Father’s Spirit will give me the words I truly need.
Let me not fear silence, for it is often there that Your voice is heard most clearly.
As I continue this seven-year journey toward caring for Your creation, keep me from becoming merely an expert with answers. Make me instead a disciple who listens— to Your Gospel, to the wisdom of Your Church, to the cry of the earth, to the cry of the poor, and even to the quiet testimony of the fields around The Glenn.
May every word I speak, whether to one person or through a YouTube video, cost me my pride and reveal something of Your love.
For if I speak only my own words, they will soon be forgotten. But if Your Spirit speaks through me, even my weakest words may become seeds of Your Kingdom.
Amen.
4. Contemplatio (Chestertonian Synthesis)
Chesterton delighted in paradox, and today’s Gospel contains one worthy of him: the man who prepares the least may sometimes be the one who is most prepared.
The world believes eloquence comes from polishing speeches until every sentence shines. Christ seems almost reckless. He tells His disciples to walk into impossible situations carrying little more than trust. The Spirit, He insists, is a far better speechwriter than anxiety.
That does not excuse laziness. The Spirit generally fills minds that have been faithfully furnished—with Scripture, prayer, honest work, and the wisdom of the Church. But there comes a moment when preparation must give way to surrender, just as the farmer eventually stops studying seed catalogs and finally places the seed into the earth.
I think that is why I hesitate to write tomorrow’s reflection today. Every dawn reminds me that grace has not yet happened until it has happened. Yesterday’s inspiration cannot become today’s substitute for dependence upon God.
The Christian life is not learning how to speak brilliantly.
It is learning how to become quiet enough that, every now and then, someone listening hears not me—but the Spirit of the Father speaking through me.