Seized by Christ

They are experiencing Christianity as joy and hope, having thus become lovers of Christ.

Category: Fasting & Penance

  • Last-Minute Grace Is Real

    But Don’t Wait For It

    The story of the thief on the cross is one of the most hopeful pictures in the Bible. A guilty man, dying in shame, turns to Jesus in his final moments and hears the words, “Today you will be with me in paradise.” No time for good deeds. No chance to repair the damage he had done. Just simple, honest repentance and the gift of mercy.

    Grace like that is astonishing. It shows that no one is ever beyond reach. But there is another side to the story that often gets overlooked — and it is just as important.

    Even with that last-second rescue, the thief still lived his entire life without God. He lived in chaos, harm, and inner emptiness. He caused pain for others and carried the weight of his own disordered choices. That life was its own kind of hell — not only in some future judgment, but right then, day after day.

    This is the quiet truth many traditions have always known: the wages of sin and disordered passion are not paid only at the end. They are collected in installments throughout life. Lives driven by unchecked impulses, selfishness, addiction, or anger reliably produce regret, broken relationships, anxiety, damaged health, and harm to the people around us. A man may finally find mercy on his deathbed, yet the years spent alienating his children, numbing himself, or burning every bridge cannot be handed back. The scars remain.

    The “good life” God calls us toward is not an arbitrary list of rules. It is the path that actually works better for human beings.

    That is why ascetic practices — simple disciplines like prayer, fasting, self-control, honesty, and limiting what we consume — have been valued across cultures for thousands of years. They are not about earning points with God. They are ways of cooperating with grace. They bring order, peace, and freedom from being slaves to our worst impulses. They help us live with clarity instead of constant inner noise.

    Even if someone worries that the afterlife hope might not be true (the famous idea behind Pascal’s Wager), the point still stands. A life lived without that higher order — without God, virtue, or self-control — often feels like a kind of exile long before the end. The person who waits for a deathbed turnaround may receive mercy, but they miss decades of peace, purpose, stronger relationships, and the simple joy of living well.

    Mercy is real and wide. It can reach anyone at any moment. But mercy does not rewind the tape. It does not magically restore the trust that was never built, the time that was wasted, or the peace that was never cultivated.

    The hopeful message is this: you do not have to wait for the final hour. The same grace that meets us at the end is available now. Living with order, humility, and love is not a burden — it is the path that brings the most life, right here in the present. It is better for us, and better for everyone around us.

    We celebrate last-minute grace because it shows how far mercy reaches. But wisdom still whispers the same gentle invitation it always has: come now. The good life is waiting today.

  • Why Christians Practice Prayer, Fasting, and Almsgiving

    Human cultures have long known that certain disciplined practices produce maturity, inner peace, and personal integration. Long before Judaism or Christianity, people discovered that fasting sharpens the mind, prayer cultivates communion with the divine, and generous giving counters selfishness and builds community. These habits move a person from chaos toward order — from fragmentation toward wholeness.

    The Hebrews, surrounded by other ancient cultures, were almost certainly familiar with versions of these practices. Yet something decisive happened in the revelation given to Israel and fulfilled in Jesus Christ.

    Jesus Did Not Abolish — He Fulfilled and Redirected

    In the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 6:1-18), Jesus assumes His disciples will continue the three classic practices of Jewish piety:

    • Almsgiving — “When you give to the needy…”
    • Prayer — “When you pray, go into your room and shut the door…”
    • Fasting — “When you fast, do not look dismal…”

    He doesn’t introduce them as novelties. Instead, He purifies their motive: do them secretly before the Father, not for human applause. Jesus Himself modeled radical fasting (40 days in the wilderness) and a life of constant prayer.

    The Apostles carried this forward immediately (Acts 13:2-3, 14:23; the Didache shows it was already standard within a generation). Early Christians lived these rhythms not to earn God’s favor — salvation is by grace through faith in Christ — but as a way to attune their minds to things above (Colossians 3:1-2) and remain open to the Holy Spirit’s leading.

    What Christianity Adds

    Other cultures practiced similar disciplines for very practical reasons: they knew these habits produced better, more integrated human beings. Christianity agrees — and goes further. These practices become responses to grace already received. They are not a ladder to climb to God, but training in receiving what God has already given in Christ.

    The Church has always recognized that God has not left any culture without witness (Acts 14:17; CCC 843). All peoples have glimpsed fragments of truth. Just as Christian iconography can outwardly resemble pagan statues yet serves an entirely different purpose — a “mental crutch” that lifts the mind to the true God rather than an idol — so these ascetic practices are taken up, purified, and redirected.

    They are no longer mere self-improvement techniques. They become:

    • Prayer: communion with the living God who has revealed Himself as Father, Son, and Spirit.
    • Fasting: dying to disordered desires so Christ can live more fully in us.
    • Almsgiving: concrete love of neighbor flowing from love of God.

    Recovering the Ancient Wisdom

    In our comfortable, fragmented age, these practices feel counter-cultural. Yet they are profoundly human. Every culture that has tried them has discovered they lead to greater peace and maturity. For the Christian, they do even more: they open us to be formed by grace into the image of Christ.

    Discipleship is not about inventing new hardships. It is about embracing timeless tools, baptized into the death and resurrection of Jesus, so that we can say with St. Paul: “It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me” (Galatians 2:20).

  • We Don’t Have Nearly as Much Free Will as We Think

    Most of us walk around convinced we’re the captains of our own ships — that our choices are pure products of rational, independent will. Science and lived experience tell a different story. We have far less conscious control than we imagine. We are, to a surprising degree, the integration of our environment, our subconscious drives, our biology, and a thousand unseen influences. And paradoxically, the sooner we accept that, the more deliberate and effective our lives become.

    Neuroscience and psychology have been hammering this home for decades. The vast majority of our decisions arise from “System 1” thinking — fast, automatic, emotional — shaped by environmental priming, habits, blood-sugar levels, sleep quality, social cues, childhood conditioning, and even the words we read five minutes ago. We like to believe we weigh options logically and then choose, but often the choice is already tilting before we’re even aware of it. As C.G. Jung put it, “Until you make the unconscious conscious, it will direct your life and you will call it fate.”

    That sounds depressing at first. If we’re not really “free,” why bother trying? But here’s the powerful flip: accepting limited free will is not fatalism — it’s the starting point for genuine agency.

    Once you realize you’re a high-precision instrument easily knocked out of tune by your surroundings, you stop relying on heroic willpower and start doing something smarter: you engineer your environment. You become radically responsible for the inputs you allow in — the people you spend time with, the media you consume, the habits you repeat, the physical spaces you inhabit. You treat your mind and body like a garden: the “plants” (your thoughts and actions) will grow according to the soil and seeds you provide.

    This is where ascetic practices shine. Fasting, regular prayer or meditation, simplicity, physical discipline, limiting screens — these aren’t ancient religious quirks. They’re practical technologies for reducing the power of disordered passions and subconscious impulses. They create space between stimulus and response so the unconscious doesn’t run the show by default.

    The key ingredient is a clear north star — a conscious purpose or goal. Without it, the machine simply follows the path of least resistance or the loudest external pressure. With it, the same deterministic reality becomes a tool: you deliberately choose which influences to amplify and which to block.

    The result is a quieter, more compassionate way of living. You judge yourself and others less harshly (“They couldn’t help it — they’re shaped by their own unseen forces”) while becoming far more intentional about shaping your own forces. You move from fighting an illusion of unlimited willpower to mastering the influences that actually steer you.

    So yes — we don’t have nearly as much free will as we like to believe. But that realization doesn’t diminish us. It liberates us to stop pretending we’re blank slates and start building the life we actually want, one carefully chosen input at a time.

    What do you think? Has accepting the limits of your own “free will” ever made you more effective at steering your life? I’d love to hear your experiences.

  • Are You Truly Awake?

    Are You Truly Awake?

    Why Faith Needs Daily Self-Denial

    “Now it is high time to awake out of sleep.” — Romans 13:11

    Many of us go through life half-awake—spiritually asleep without realizing it. We may hear the truth, see God’s work in the world, even attend church—but we live as if it’s all just background noise. We mix reality with imagination, and even brief awakenings fade quickly.

    In earlier times, faith was tested by persecution. Early Christians showed courage and joy in suffering because truth demanded sacrifice. Today, faith is easier to display. Religion is respected, even fashionable. Outward appearances of devotion—family prayer, Bible reading, church attendance—are common.

    But here’s the danger: it’s easy to follow God for the wrong reasons—social approval, habit, convenience—rather than love. True faith often goes against the crowd. The Gospel challenges human nature. Real discipleship isn’t about looking good in public; it’s about living rightly when no one is watching.

    So how do we know our faith is real? Jesus gives the answer: self-denial. “If anyone would come after Me, let him deny himself, take up his cross, and follow Me.” (Mark 8:34) Faith is tested not in heroic moments but in daily choices—small sacrifices, resisting laziness, controlling anger, yielding in minor matters, or doing what’s inconvenient for God’s sake.

    Look at your weakest points—your temptations, habits, and hidden struggles. That’s where your cross is. That’s where your faith is proven. Small, consistent acts of self-denial—fasting, discipline, service—train your heart and strengthen your will for greater challenges.

    Even the best of us fail. That’s why we need constant repentance, Christ’s forgiveness, and the guidance of the Holy Spirit. But if we take obedience seriously, faith becomes alive. We awaken fully, living each day for God, confident in His grace and presence.

    Wake up. Take up your cross daily. Live as if your faith truly matters—and watch your life transform.

    Reference:

    Newman, John Henry. Sermon 5: Self-Denial the Test of Religious Earnestness. Newman Reader — Works of John Henry Newman. National Institute for Newman Studies, 2007.

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