1/15 đź§µ
Come with me. Let’s go back and walk with Saint Paul.
Not the Paul of grand sermons or bold missionary fire.
But the tired Paul. The wounded one.
The one who’s had enough, and still keeps going.
Today’s reading—2 Corinthians 11:18, 21–30—is for the weary.
2/15
Paul is writing to a church he loves. But they’re drifting—pulled in by smooth-talking men who call themselves “super-apostles.” Flashy, confident, powerful.
And Paul? He looks like nothing compared to them. Just a man who suffers.
3/15
So he does something strange.
He starts to “boast”—but not like they do.
He doesn’t boast in power.
He boasts in pain.
Come closer. Let’s listen to what he says.
4/15
“Five times I received from the Jews the forty lashes less one.”
“Three times I was beaten with rods.”
“Once I was stoned.” (2 Cor 11:24–25)
Can you see him?
His back scarred.
His hands calloused.
His voice shaking—but steady.
5/15
“Three times I was shipwrecked. I spent a night and a day adrift at sea.”
We picture Paul on fire for the Gospel, but we forget the days he was floating alone in the dark, soaked and cold, praying not to drown.
This is his resume.
6/15
He keeps going:
“In danger from rivers… from robbers… from my own people… from Gentiles…”
Look around. This isn’t prestige.
This is a man who has lived on the edge of death for love.
And still he says, “I kept going.”
7/15
And then he says something that stops me in my tracks:
“And, apart from all this, the daily pressure of my anxiety for all the churches.” (v.28)
Do you hear that?
This is a shepherd’s heart breaking wide open.
8/15
It’s not just the beatings or the prisons.
It’s the burden of souls.
The nights he stayed up worrying.
The names he whispered in prayer.
The communities he couldn’t forget.
This is the cost of love.
9/15
St. John Chrysostom said Paul didn’t glory in miracles, but in weakness, so that Christ alone would shine.
He boasted—not in triumphs, but in the bruises he took for the Body of Christ.
Because that’s what makes an apostle.
10/15
“If I must boast, I will boast of the things that show my weakness.” (v.30)
Not the things that make him look strong.
The things that prove he bled for us.
That he didn’t quit.
That he showed up anyway.
11/15
We live in an age that still chases the super-apostles.
Charisma. Strategy. Influence. Visibility.
But real apostolic life still looks like Paul:
weathered, limping, and carrying others’ sorrows in silence.
12/15
Maybe you’ve been there.
Maybe you’re there now.
Carrying weight no one sees.
Waking up with someone else’s pain on your mind.
That’s not weakness. That’s Christ in you.
13/15
The Church doesn’t move forward because of polished leaders.
It moves forward because of people like Paul—
and people like you—
who keep going when it hurts.
14/15
So today, I don’t ask you to boast in what you’ve built.
Boast in what you’ve endured for love.
Boast in what you carry that no one else sees.
Boast in the fact that you didn’t walk away.
15/15
That’s what Saint Paul did.
That’s what Christ did.
And maybe, just maybe—
that’s what real apostleship still looks like.
Come, Lord Jesus. Make us faithful, even when it hurts.
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1/22 đź§µ
A Christian recently asked: “Do you believe that depression and other mental health issues are forms of demonic oppression?” That’s a serious question—and many souls are listening. So let’s walk through this together, pastorally and truthfully.
2/22
First, yes—demonic oppression is real. The Church has always taught this. Evil spirits can afflict the body, the mind, and even surroundings. But not every wound or illness comes from a demon. That’s not how the Church has ever treated these matters.
3/22
In the West, the Church has long recognized stages of demonic attack: temptation, oppression, obsession, vexation, infestation, and finally, possession. Possession is the rarest and most severe—but even the lesser stages cause suffering.
1/20 đź§µ
Can a Christian lose their salvation? Many today—especially in online Protestant spaces—say no. “Once saved, always saved.” But is that what the Bible teaches? Is that what the early Church believed? This question is not academic. It concerns eternal destiny.
2/20
Many modern Protestants follow a version of “once saved, always saved,” meaning that once someone is truly saved, they can never lose that salvation—no matter what they do. Others teach something similar under different language, like “eternal security.”
3/20
Not all Protestants agree. Some—especially Arminians and Methodists—affirm free will and teach that salvation can be lost through unrepentant sin. But among Calvinist-leaning groups, the belief is widespread: if you’re saved, you’ll remain saved. Period.
1/17 đź§µ
Today, June 13, is the memorial of Saint Anthony of Padua. Most know him as the “finder of lost things.” But he was far more: a fiery preacher, a brilliant theologian, a man of deep poverty and profound love. Let me tell you the story—from the beginning.
2/17
He wasn’t born in Padua. He was born in Lisbon, Portugal, in the year 1195. His baptismal name was Fernando. His family was wealthy and noble. His father, Martinho, was a knight. His mother, Maria, was devout. And from her, he learned his first love for Jesus.
3/17
As a boy, Fernando was quiet and thoughtful. While others his age were drawn to courtly games, he was drawn to the chapel. He loved the Gospels. He memorized the Psalms. He asked questions no one else asked. The family thought him strange. God thought him chosen.
1/20 đź§µ
A sincere Protestant asked:
“Is the Tribulation in the book of Revelation a literal 7 years, or is it symbolic?”
It’s a good question.
People long to know what’s coming.
So let’s talk honestly—about Revelation, Christian hope, and the end of the world.
2/20
First, be comforted: the historic Church has never dogmatized a single timeline for the “Tribulation.”
The Church has left room for mystery.
We do not build doctrine on speculation.
We build it on the risen Christ.
3/20
The idea of a literal 7-year Tribulation—with a secret Rapture, global chaos, and a rebuilt Temple—is a modern innovation, not apostolic faith.
It doesn’t appear in the Creeds.
It wasn’t taught by the Fathers.
It was never defined by a council.
1/18 đź§µ
A Protestant recently posted:
“How did Catholics get tricked into thinking Mary was assumed into Heaven?”
Not asked in sincerity, I think—but the question opens a door. Because the Assumption of Mary is not a Roman invention. It’s older. Deeper. And not uniquely Western.
2/18
Let’s be clear:
The Assumption of Mary means that, at the end of her earthly life, the Blessed Virgin was taken—body and soul—into heavenly glory. Not that she floated away like a myth. But that her body did not see corruption. She was received, not buried.
3/18
This wasn’t made up in the 20th century. The Church didn’t invent the Assumption in 1950. That year marked the definition—not the beginning—of a belief held long before, in both East and West.
1/16 đź§µ
Today, the Church honors one of the most powerful modern stories of faith:
St. Charles Lwanga and his Companions, martyrs of Uganda.
Their names echo through East Africa like a psalm.
But who were they? Why did they die? And why does it matter today?
2/16
The year was 1886. Uganda was still young in its encounter with the Christian Gospel.
Just a few decades earlier, missionaries from the Anglican and Catholic Churches had arrived, preaching Christ crucified and risen.
3/16
Among those converted were young men serving in the court of King Mwanga II.
One of them was Charles Lwanga, a page in the royal court—known for his kindness, strength, and unshakable virtue.