The 247 Catholic - A Parishioner's Blog - Our Lady Of Lourdes Catholic Church, New Milton, Hampshire, UK
Imagine hearing your name called by Jesus, not as one of the Twelve Apostles, but as one of the seventy-two ordinary disciples chosen for an extraordinary mission!
You have no detailed plan, no spare provisions and no certainty about where the journey will lead.
All you have is trust in the One who is sending you.
In this reflection, let us prayerfully step into this Gospel scene and ask what it might teach us about following Christ in our own lives.
Grace is one of the most beautiful gifts God gives us, yet it is also one of those words that can become so familiar that we sometimes stop thinking about what it really means.
We hear about grace at Mass, encounter it in Scripture and prayer, and speak about being in a state of grace, receiving grace and growing in grace.
At the heart of Catholic life lies a particular gift that deserves our attention: sanctifying grace.
Sanctifying grace is not simply a feeling of closeness to God or a comforting thought when life becomes difficult. It is God's gift of His own divine life, transforming us from within and making us His adopted children.
Understanding this does not require complicated theology, but it does invite us to pause and appreciate the extraordinary work God desires to accomplish within our souls.
Sometimes the most powerful moments in the Gospels are not found in dramatic miracles or lengthy conversations, but in a single sentence that invites us to stop and look more closely.
St Mark gives us one such moment when he tells us what happened as a young man approached Jesus with a sincere question: “And Jesus, looking at him, loved him” (Mark 10:21, ESV-CE).
Before the Lord asked him to change his life, before He challenged him to surrender what he treasured, Jesus looked at him with love.
Those few words reveal something beautiful about the heart of Christ, and they invite us to consider how He looks upon each one of us today.
Some words in Sacred Scripture are so simple that we can read straight past them. Yet those same words contain depths that can occupy a lifetime of prayer. The word we shall reflect upon today is one such word. It appears again and again in the Gospel of Saint John, and in just five letters it reveals one of the greatest invitations Jesus ever gives us... Abide.
This week's Autumn Equinox is one of those moments.
Day and night stand in perfect balance before the seasons begin to change once again.
It is a gentle reminder that life is full of beginnings.
Yet while the world speaks of changing seasons, Sacred Scripture speaks of something even more wonderful – the God who is always making all things new.
As we begin this new chapter of The 247 Catholic, let us begin by reflecting upon the God of every new beginning.
There are some invitations that we receive with a sense of anticipation.
They promise not simply something new, but something deeper, richer and more rewarding.
Beginning next Monday, 21 September, The 247 Catholic will begin a new journey – one that invites us to slow down, linger a little longer over God's Word, and discover even more of the beauty, wisdom and richness of our Catholic faith.
It is a new chapter, but it is not a new purpose.
We picture Him kneeling on the Mount of Olives, saying, "Father, if thou art willing, remove this cup from me; nevertheless not my will, but thine, be done." (Luke 22:42, RSV-CE)
But the truth is, Jesus' life of prayer didn't begin in that garden. It was woven into His life from the very start — into His home, His family, His Jewish culture, and His daily rhythm. Before He ever taught His disciples the Our Father, Jesus had already spent years living a pattern of prayer that shaped His every word, action, and silence.
Understanding how Jesus and His family would have prayed gives us a window into His heart — and it helps us see how we, too, can pray in harmony with God's will.
There are some changes coming soon to The 24/7 Catholic, and readers are invited to look out for an important post explaining what is happening.
We can quote passages, explain doctrines, and attend lectures about His life and mission.
Yet when we pause and consider the Gospels closely, a humbling truth emerges: the apostles walked with Him, listened to Him, touched Him, ate with Him, and watched Him live out the mission of God in real time.
It is not dramatic; it does not announce itself with a grand flourish. Instead, it creeps in during the small moments of our day: the thought that betrays a harsh word, the impatience that rises unnoticed, the selfishness that slips into a gesture meant for others.
We carry this weight everywhere. In the office, on the train, in our homes, while walking along quiet streets, and even in churches. The pew becomes both sanctuary and mirror. And there it rests, that humble, unspoken truth: I am a sinner, and I will be a sinner for the rest of my life.
One such passage involves Peter jumping into the sea and swimming to the shore - a seemingly simple event that holds deeper significance.
This article explores this and other easily-missed passages, highlighting their importance in the Catholic faith.
We are not simply the product of chance, nor a random accident in the universe.
Long before the stars began to shine, long before time itself, God had us in His heart.
This profound truth should make us pause and reflect. If the Almighty has known us with such intimacy, shouldn't we in return make the effort to know Him a little better?
These men came from different walks of life, bore strikingly different personalities, and, in some cases, had reputations that would have made them unlikely candidates for leadership in any other context. Yet, Jesus chose them. And through these seemingly unremarkable men, He built His Church, one that would stand against the gates of hell itself (Matthew 16:18).
Why would our Lord bring together such a motley crew to be His apostles?
The answer lies in His divine wisdom—God delights in using the weak, the flawed, and the unexpected to accomplish His purposes.
In examining some of these men, we see the richness of God's plan and how He transforms human weakness into divine strength.
These are not accidents or passing thoughts. They are often the voice of Christ calling us forward. And in those moments, we stand at a threshold – between hesitation and trust, between comfort and surrender, between delay and response.
Scrupulosity, a term often associated with religious contexts, extends its influence beyond the boundaries of any specific faith.
While it is frequently discussed within the Catholic community in relation to spiritual and moral matters, its implications can manifest in various aspects of everyday life.
In this article, we delve into the nature of scrupulosity, exploring its broader impact beyond the confines of religious practice, and discussing ways to navigate its challenges.
It is easy for us to imagine Jesus moving through His ministry in a calm, unhurried way, untouched by exhaustion, always serene and composed.
Yet when we slow down and truly sit with the Gospel accounts, we discover something far more human and far more challenging. Jesus' public ministry was relentless, physically demanding, emotionally draining, and often carried out on very little sleep.
He did not serve when it suited Him.
He gave Himself completely, holding nothing back.
One of those moments is the storm at sea, where the apostles find themselves tossed about in a boat with Jesus asleep nearby.
It is a scene that raises unsettling questions about what they believed would happen next, and even more importantly, what they believed about the One who was with them.