Conession and Dental Hygiene... Really?

There are few appointments in life that stir up quite the same quiet apprehension as a visit to the dental hygienist. 

We know it is good for us. We know we will feel better afterwards. And yet — there is often that familiar hesitation beforehand. In a surprisingly similar way, many of us experience the Sacrament of Confession. 

We may delay it, overthink it, or approach it with a mixture of reluctance and hope. 

Yet, just like that visit to the hygienist, what awaits us on the other side is something deeply refreshing — a sense of cleansing, renewal, and peace that we cannot quite replicate anywhere else.

There is something almost universal about the feeling. 

Coming Down to Hampshire? Here Are 12 Good Reasons for Visiting Our Lady Of Lourdes Catholic Church Here in New Milton

Some journeys begin with careful planning, while others begin with a quiet stirring within us — a sense that we need space, silence, or simply something different. 

A visit to Hampshire may begin with thoughts of countryside walks or fresh sea air, yet it can unfold into something far more meaningful. 

Set between the natural beauty of the New Forest and the gentle coastline of Christchurch Bay, Our Lady of Lourdes Catholic Church offers more than a destination — it offers a moment of encounter. 

What begins as a simple visit can become a quiet turning point, a place where we rediscover stillness, faith, and the presence of God in ways we may not have expected.

The Breath of Life

Breath is a simple, everyday miracle – yet it is also a profound symbol of life itself. 

In the Scriptures, the breath of God is more than air in our lungs; it is ruach, the Spirit that gives life, inspires hearts, and sets souls ablaze with purpose. 

As we reflect this week, let us consider how the breath of the Holy Spirit has moved through the world, through creation, and through our lives, inviting us into deeper communion with God.

Right Reverend Philip Egan – Bishop of Portsmouth – Shepherd of our Diocese

A shepherd is not known merely by title, but by presence – by the quiet constancy of his guidance, the clarity of his teaching, and the depth of his care for those entrusted to him. 

In our own diocese, we have been given such a shepherd in the Right Reverend Philip Egan. 

His life, formed through study, prayer, and pastoral service, reveals not only a leader of the Church, but a man shaped by a deep desire to lead souls into the heart of Christ. 

As we reflect more deeply, we begin to see that his ministry is part of a much greater story – the ongoing work of Christ guiding His Church through those He calls.

Sing With Thanks And Praise!

We Weren't There... But Our Sins Were...

Were You There When They Crucified My Lord?

If That Isn't Love...

 Lyrics Below

The Infinite Love Of Our Father’s Grace

There is a love so vast that it cannot be measured, so patient that it cannot be exhausted, and so freely given that it cannot be earned. 

This is the love revealed in grace – a gift poured out from the heart of the Father. It is a love that does not wait for perfection, but meets us in our weakness, lifts us from our brokenness, and draws us into divine life. 

To begin to understand grace is to begin to glimpse the infinite depth of our Father’s love for us.

2 Timothy 1:9 – Are We Worthy Of God’s Grace? No… But We’re In Good Company...

There are verses in Scripture that quietly undo our pride and heal our fear at the same time. Second Timothy 1:9 is one of them. 

It tells us something deeply humbling and deeply consoling – that God “saved us and called us with a Holy calling, not in virtue of our works but in virtue of his own purpose and the grace which he gave us in Christ Jesus ages ago” (2 Timothy 1:9, RSV-CE). 

In one line, St Paul takes away every illusion that we can earn salvation, and then gives us something far better – the astonishing truth that grace is gift. 

None of us are worthy of it. None of us could ever deserve it. And yet it is offered to us freely. That is the scandal and the beauty of grace.

Psalm 23:3: "He Restores..." From Rubble To Restoration!

There are moments in parish life that quietly mirror the deeper truths of our faith. What may seem like a practical difficulty — a damaged roof, a displaced cross, a long wait for the ground to dry — can become something far more meaningful. 

In the patient unfolding of events, we are reminded that even in delay, God is at work. 

And when at last the cross is raised again before us, it speaks not only of restoration, but of hope, perseverance, and the enduring presence of Christ among us.

From singing the praises of Jesus with exclamations of “Hosanna” to a week later yelling out loudly, “Crucify Him, Crucify Him”

This week is Holy Week – a sacred time when we walk step by step through the final days of Christ’s earthly life. 

We begin with the echo of “Hosanna,” a cry filled with hope and expectation, yet we know where the journey leads – to the Cross, where the cry becomes “Crucify Him.” 

In this powerful contrast, we are invited not only to remember what happened, but to recognise how this same movement can unfold within our own hearts.

Grace: The Gift Of Our Father To All Of Us

Sometimes the spiritual life can begin to feel heavy. We may worry about whether we have done enough for God, prayed enough, repented enough, or believed strongly enough. 

When these thoughts take hold, faith can begin to feel more like a burden than a gift. Yet the Gospel begins with a very different message. Our relationship with God does not start with our effort – it begins with His grace. 

Grace is the loving gift of a Father whose mercy reaches far beyond anything we can fully understand. 

When we begin to grasp this truth, fear begins to fade, and the spiritual life becomes what it was always meant to be – a journey of trust, peace, and hope.

 

Scrupulosity: Spiritual OCD?

There are moments in the spiritual life when the desire to please God becomes tangled with fear. Instead of bringing peace, prayer begins to feel heavy.

Confession can feel frightening rather than freeing. 

Every small action seems to carry the possibility of sin. For some of us, this experience is not simply a spiritual struggle – it can resemble a genuine psychological condition.

Scrupulosity has often been described as a kind of spiritual OCD, where the mind becomes trapped in cycles of fear about guilt and wrongdoing. Yet the story of the Christian life is not meant to be one of constant anxiety. 

At the heart of the Gospel stands grace – the loving mercy of God who calls us not to fear, but to trust.

 

"That's Not Fair!"

There is a phrase that rises quickly to our lips, often before we even realise it – “That’s not fair!” 

It echoes from childhood into adulthood, appearing in small frustrations and in life’s deepest wounds. 

We feel it when we are misunderstood, overlooked, or treated unjustly. 

Recently, while re-watching A Hidden Life, one of my all-time favourite films, one line stood out with renewed force: “It’s better to suffer injustice than to do it.” 

These words challenge something deep within us. They invite us to look again at what fairness really means – and to see it through the light of the Gospel.

Am I a Bad Catholic? - Inspired by Blessed John Henry Newman's reflections in the chapter often referred to as "Bad Catholic"

Inspired by Blessed John Henry Newman's reflections in the chapter often referred to as "Bad Catholic")

There are moments in every honest spiritual life when a question rises quietly, uninvited, yet unavoidably: Am I a bad Catholic?

It slips in when we are tired, when we fall again into the same patterns of sin, when our prayer life feels shallow or dry, when we catch ourselves choosing comfort over conviction. It is a question that can sting, a question that can unsettle, but also a question that – if we dare to sit with it – may lead us closer to Christ.

Blessed John Henry Newman understood this interior struggle deeply. He knew that the faithful soul often wrestles not with self – admiration but with holy discomfort. In his writings, especially in the reflections surrounding what many call the "Bad Catholic" chapter, Newman holds up a mirror. And in that mirror, he reveals something astonishing: perhaps the very fact that we are asking the question is itself a sign of grace. The indifferent heart does not question its fidelity. Only the heart touched by God fears losing Him.

So this week we turn to Newman, Scripture, and our own conscience. Not to condemn ourselves, but to recognise that our unease may actually be the whisper of the Holy Spirit calling us deeper – calling us to the renewal of mind and heart that marks every authentic journey of discipleship.

Why Faith Is Not Blind

In our last post and reflection, "What If It's All True?", we allowed ourselves to step into the breathtaking possibility that the Incarnation, the Resurrection, and the promises of Christ are not legends but living reality. 

In this series we've faced the question of doubt with honesty. 

We asked whether a man can truly rise from the dead, whether a virgin can truly conceive, whether witnesses can truly be trusted. We discovered that our faith rests not on vague sentiment, but on testimony, sacrifice, and transformed lives.

In this post, let us take one step further.

If it is true – then our faith is not blind.

What If It's All True? – A Follow Up To "When Doubt Creeps In"

Last week we reflected on what happens when doubt creeps in – when quiet questions rise about the Virgin Birth, the Resurrection, and the bold claims of Christianity. 

We considered the witnesses, the martyrs, the saints who staked everything on what they had seen and believed. But now let us take one step further. If we have faced our doubts honestly… what if, after examining the testimony and the courage of the martyrs, we dare to ask the deeper question – what if it's all true?

When Doubt Creeps In

There are moments when faith feels steady and bright – and other moments when quiet questions begin to surface. 

We may be praying, reading Scripture, or sitting quietly after Communion when an unexpected thought slips into our minds: 

Can this really be true? 

Can a man truly rise from the dead? 

Can a child truly be born of a virgin? 

Did these events actually happen in history – or have we simply inherited beautiful religious stories?

When doubt creeps in, we may feel unsettled. We may even feel embarrassed, as though mature faith should never wrestle with questions. Yet the presence of doubt does not mean the absence of faith. Often, it means our faith is being invited to grow deeper roots.

The Winter Olympics - Striving for Perfection and Awaiting Judgement

There is something about the Winter Olympics that holds us still. 

We watch blades carve the ice, skis cut through snow, sleds race along frozen tracks at breathtaking speed. 

We see beauty, risk, discipline, and daring - and then we see the waiting. 

 

The skater stands motionless after the final spin, breath visible in the cold air, eyes fixed on a scoreboard. 

 

The skier glances upward after crossing the finish line. 

 

The snowboarder removes a helmet and waits. 

 

All of them have trained for years for this moment. 

 

All of them must await judgement, and as we watch, we cannot help but recognise something of our own lives in theirs.

Plank? What Plank?

Sometimes the Gospel reaches me not through what is spoken aloud, but through what rises quietly within me when I am interrupted and exposed.

It happened recently at Mass, in a moment so ordinary that it might easily have been forgotten, and yet so revealing that it has stayed with me.

At the very beginning of Mass, before I had properly settled, before my heart had slowed to the pace of prayer, several telephones went off. 

One sound followed another, brief intrusions into the silence that is meant to help me cross the threshold from ordinary life into something sacred.

Almost immediately, irritation stirred within me. It rose quickly and confidently, as though it needed very little encouragement. My attention drifted away from prayer and toward judgment. I told myself I was simply reacting to the disruption, but beneath that explanation lay something more uncomfortable.

I was judging.