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.

Spiritual Warfare - The Hidden Battle

It’s not a subject many people like to talk about. In fact, even in the Church, spiritual warfare isn’t mentioned very much at all. 

We talk about love, mercy, hope and peace — all of which are essential — but not often about the struggle that lies behind all of it. 

Yet from the very first moment of creation, a battle has been going on, unseen but very real. It isn’t fought with weapons of steel or fire, but in the quiet places of the soul.

Suffer the Little Children Come to Me - How Young Children Are Lured Into The World Of Gambling

“Let the children come to me, and do not hinder them; for to such belongs the kingdom of heaven.”
— Matthew 19:14 RSV-CE

When Pope Leo XIV recently addressed the growing moral dangers of gambling, many Catholics expected him to speak about the financial harm and addiction that plague adults. But his warning went deeper. He spoke about children — the ones “whom Christ holds closest to His Sacred Heart” — and how they are now being lured into a culture that glorifies chance, greed, and instant reward.

His words echoed like a trumpet blast across the Church:

“We live in a world,” the Holy Father said, “where gambling is no longer whispered about in shame but celebrated in the open. Where once sin hid in the shadows, now it shines on screens and billboards, teaching the smallest among us that money is won, not earned — that risk is excitement, and that losing is simply part of the game.”