Category Archives: Clericalism

Ephphatha—not a crack in the door but the door torn wide. He touched what I guarded and opened what I hid. Now I hear— and must speak.

Not every feast arrives with silver and flame—
sometimes grace falls quiet beneath the table. Lord, make me small enough to kneel where crumbs become miracles.

Nothing outside can stain my soul—yet pride can darken all I do. Lourdes springs rise from humble ground; let mercy rise from me too.

Tradition is not the ashes of the fire, but the fire itself— passed hand to hand, heart to heart, until love lights the night.

I did not grasp the whole truth—I brushed its hem. And that was enough to feel my life begin again.

I wanted my light to win arguments, but Christ wanted it to warm rooms. I hid it for fear of offense, and He uncovered it for the sake of mercy. Light, it turns out, is not meant to be impressive—only faithful.

We gathered not to solve the past, Nor force tomorrow’s hand—But like the Mother on that long Saturday, We stood where hope still stands.

I stood between the crowd and the call, Between the banner and the bread, Perplexed not by doubt of You, O Lord, But by the noise that followed instead. Teach me the courage of martyrs’ calm,
The clarity born of faithful strife—For better perplexed with truth in hand Than certain, crowned, and wrong for life.

Dust on my feet, Grace in my bones, I leave no monument — Only the road where Christ has gone.

I took offense to guard the gate, but locked the King outside. Faith waits where comfort ends — where pride has stepped aside.