Seized by Christ

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

Category: GTC

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  • Why Inner Life and Love Matter More Than Ever

    Why Inner Life and Love Matter More Than Ever

    How faith, purpose, and connection can guide you in a busy, chaotic world

    In today’s world, it can feel like everything is moving too fast. Social media, work, family responsibilities, and constant news cycles make it easy to feel overwhelmed. But what if the secret to thriving isn’t doing more, but living deeper?

    The Church has always faced this challenge. She must bring a message of hope to the world while nurturing her own inner life. And while you don’t need to be religious to take the lesson, the principle is universal: without a strong inner foundation, no mission or goal can truly succeed.

    Here’s the takeaway for modern life:

    1. Know yourself and your purpose. Just as the Church must understand her role, you need to understand yours. What drives you? What do you stand for?
    2. Faith can mean trust. You don’t have to be religious to see the value here. Faith, in a modern sense, is trust in what you know is right, and confidence in your ability to make a difference.
    3. Inner life matters. Reflection, mindfulness, and spiritual practice (whatever that looks like for you) help you stay grounded amid chaos.
    4. Balance action with depth. Doing good in the world—helping others, pursuing meaningful work—is powerful, but it’s more effective when paired with thought, reflection, and integrity.
    5. Beware of extremes. It’s easy to get caught up in outward achievement or personal ego. Both can be empty without inner depth and values to guide them.
    6. Love and connection are essential. Real growth comes when you care about others and invest in relationships. Empathy and compassion create the foundation for lasting impact.
    7. You are loved beyond measure. Whether you see it spiritually or simply as human connection, recognizing that you matter—and that your actions ripple out—gives purpose to everything you do.
    8. Your work matters, but your heart matters more. Success without integrity or care is hollow. Align your actions with values that elevate others.
    9. Small acts, big impact. Even small gestures of kindness or integrity can transform your environment, just as individual faith strengthens the Church.
    10. Hope fuels resilience. Knowing you can make a difference—even amid setbacks—keeps you moving forward, grounded in something larger than yourself.

    In short, thriving isn’t about doing everything; it’s about being rooted. Strong inner life, trust in what’s true, and a commitment to love and connection—these are what let you face today’s challenges with courage and purpose.

    Think of it this way: your life can become like a spark that lights a bigger fire, for yourself and everyone around you. Start small, start intentional, and let your inner strength guide your actions in the world.

    Ref: Pope Paul VI General Audience 25 October 1972

    With development and editing assistance from ChatGPT-5

  • Is Disease a Blessing?

    Health, Mortality, and Eternity

    At the start of our men’s meeting, we have a scrolling list of parishioners who are sick. The list seems endless—over sixty names, each one dealing with serious illness.

    Watching this week after week, I couldn’t help but compare it to what I’ve been learning about diet and health. Doctors who promote the carnivore diet claim it prevents most of the diseases we see all around us—heart disease, diabetes, cancer, dementia, thyroid problems, even tooth decay. In theory, if people ate differently, they might never face decades of medical decline. They’d stay healthy until the end of their lives, only needing a hospital if they had an accident or injury.

    It sounds almost too good to be true. But here’s the question that troubles me: if disease can bring people to a halt—forcing them to face mortality and the eternal destiny of their souls—then maybe sickness is not only a curse but also a strange kind of blessing. How many have repented, turned to God, or reconsidered their lives only because sickness knocked them down? If they had stayed strong and healthy their whole lives, maybe they never would have.

    So I hesitate. Should I even recommend a diet that might take away this painful but powerful path to conversion? Is that a twisted thought?

    A Christian Response

    It’s not twisted—it’s an old and serious question. Christians have always wrestled with the mystery of suffering.

    1. Suffering can open hearts.
    St. Paul himself spoke of a “thorn in the flesh” that kept him humble and close to Christ (2 Corinthians 12:7–10). Many saints saw their illnesses as a way of uniting themselves to Jesus’ cross. There’s no doubt: suffering can wake people up to God.

    2. But health is also a gift.
    Scripture calls the body the “temple of the Holy Spirit” (1 Corinthians 6:19). Caring for our health isn’t vanity—it’s stewardship. A sound body allows us to serve others, to work, to pray, to love with strength. Preventing disease isn’t selfish; it’s a way of honoring God.

    3. God does not need disease to save us.
    While illness may bring some to repentance, it’s not the only path. God works through conscience, grace, community, and the sacraments. A healthy man who uses his strength for good can be just as close—or closer—to God as a sick man who cries out in weakness.

    4. Our task is balance.
    We should encourage health, but not worship it. We should be grateful for medicine and nutrition, but not forget that even the healthiest life ends in death. Whether sick or strong, the real question is whether we are preparing for eternity.

    The Takeaway

    Yes, disease can be a strange blessing when it drives someone back to God. But it’s not a blessing in itself—it’s a hardship God can redeem. Health, too, is a blessing, when we use it in service and gratitude.

    So perhaps the answer is not to hesitate about encouraging better health, but to remind ourselves and others: even if we escape disease, we will not escape death. Eternity still awaits. The real question is not only how long we live, but how ready we are to meet the Lord.

    Reflection Question:
    Do I see my health—or my sickness—as a way to serve God and prepare for eternity?

    Developed with assistance from ChatGPT-5

  • The Forgotten Works of Mercy

    The Spiritual Works of Mercy We Neglect

    When most people think of the works of mercy, they picture food pantries, homeless shelters, hospitals, or clothing drives. And rightly so — these are the corporal works of mercy, the ways we meet Christ in the hungry, the sick, and the poor.

    But the Church also teaches about another set of works, just as essential, and perhaps even harder to live out: the spiritual works of mercy.

    They are seven in number:

    1. To instruct the ignorant
    2. To counsel the doubtful
    3. To admonish sinners
    4. To bear wrongs patiently
    5. To forgive offenses willingly
    6. To comfort the afflicted
    7. To pray for the living and the dead

    How often do you hear these preached from the pulpit, or listed on a parish flyer? Not very often. And yet, these are the works that strike at the root of human misery.

    They demand courage. It is easier to hand someone a sandwich than to tell them, in love, that they are living in sin. It is easier to donate a coat than to forgive a deep betrayal. It is easier to write a check than to bear wrongs patiently, without bitterness.

    The spiritual works of mercy cut straight to the heart of discipleship. They require that we share in Christ’s own patience, His own forgiveness, His own willingness to carry the cross of others.

    If Western society has built structures to handle much of the corporal work — food banks, hospitals, relief agencies — then Christians are left with an even greater responsibility. We must be the ones who feed souls.

    This does not mean abandoning corporal charity. Rather, it means bringing mercy to its fullness: bread and truth, clothing and forgiveness, shelter and prayer.

    The forgotten works of mercy are not optional. They are the lifeblood of Christian witness. And in a world starving for meaning, they may be the most urgent mission field of all.

    Developed with assistance from ChatGPT-5

  • Inventio:

    Inventio:

    Finding Before Creating

    In classical rhetoric, inventio was the very first step in preparing a speech. It meant discovering the arguments or proofs already available to support your case. The orator didn’t create truth—he uncovered it, drew it out, and presented it persuasively.

    This same spirit carries into the life of faith. We don’t create the truths of God. We don’t design our own reality. Instead, we are called to find what God has already revealed, to discover His grace present in the world, and to allow our lives to bear witness to it.

    Think of the way we form relationships. A stranger gradually becomes an acquaintance, a friend, and perhaps even a close companion. We don’t create that person; we discover who they are through time and trust. Faith works in the same way—truth draws closer to us as we seek it, until it becomes intimate and lived.

    The modern world often prizes “creativity” in the sense of originality. But for Christians, true creativity begins with discovery. Before we can offer something beautiful, we must first receive what is already there.

    Think of an artist painting a landscape. He doesn’t invent the mountains, trees, or sky. He finds them, attends to them, and renders them in a new way. So it is with us—we must first seek and find God’s truth before we can share it with others.

    What would happen if we lived our faith this way? Instead of trying to invent our own way to God, we would practice inventio—the humble, attentive discovery of His presence in Scripture, in tradition, in the sacraments, and in the quiet places of our daily lives.

    Our task, then, is not to create faith but to uncover it. Not to invent truth but to find it. And once we do, the act of creation follows naturally, as our words, our lives, and our love give new expression to what we have discovered.

    Developed with assistance from Gemini AI and ChatGPT-5

  • Fill the Jars:

    Our Part in Christ’s Miracles

    The story of the Wedding at Cana in Galilee is familiar to many: Mary, the mother of Jesus, notices a problem—“They have no wine”—and brings it to her Son. Jesus responds, “Woman, how does your concern affect me? My hour has not yet come.” Yet Mary’s reply to the servants is simple and profound: “Do whatever he tells you.”

    The miracle itself hinges on a simple instruction: Jesus tells the servants, “Fill the jars with water.” And they do, to the brim. Only then does Christ transform the water into wine—wine far superior to what had been prepared for the celebration.

    This story gives us a powerful lesson about our own spiritual life. Like the empty jars, Christ cannot work in our lives unless we first take the initiative to fill them:

    • Turning our hearts toward Him.
    • Seeking to love Him with all our heart, soul, mind, and strength.
    • Trusting and hoping in His promise, even before we see the outcome.

    The servants’ action—filling the jars—was not the miracle itself, but it was a necessary part. Our obedience, hope, and effort cooperate with God’s grace. The “wine” Christ gives us, the fruit of His blessing, is always far superior to anything we could produce on our own.

    Mary’s guidance, “Do whatever he tells you,” remains timeless. She shows us that responding faithfully to God’s direction, even in small and practical ways, opens the door for His glory to be revealed in our lives.

    When we fill our jars, we make room for Christ’s miraculous work—and the joy and abundance He offers is beyond what we could imagine.

    Edited with assistance of ChatGPT-5

  • Charity Is a Supernatural Virtue

    Today when people hear the word “charity,” they often think of donations, fundraisers, or volunteer work. These are good things, but they only scratch the surface of what charity really is.

    In Christian teaching, charity—caritas—is not simply kindness or generosity. It is a supernatural virtue. Saint Paul places it above even faith and hope:

    “Now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity.” (1 Cor 13:13)

    Why is charity the greatest? Because it is not something we generate on our own. It is God’s own love, poured into our hearts by grace, enabling us to love as He loves.

    The Natural Foundation

    Even without revelation, human beings are inclined to goodwill toward others. Aristotle called this eunoia—acting with the good of others, and the common good, in mind. This is a natural virtue, and it is real. We can see it in acts of kindness, civic friendship, and common concern for neighbors and strangers alike.

    Yet, natural virtue is fragile. It can be easily distorted by pride, fear, or selfishness.

    Grace Perfects Nature

    Christ calls us beyond this natural level:

    “Be ye perfect, even as your heavenly Father is perfect.” (Mt 5:48)

    On our own, we cannot attain such perfection. But grace builds on nature and lifts it higher. When God infuses charity into the soul, it transforms natural goodwill into supernatural love. We are empowered to love not only as we would want to be loved, but as Christ Himself loves—freely, fully, and sacrificially.

    The Freedom of Love

    Aristotle observed that no act is virtuous unless it is voluntary. Forced “charity” is no charity at all. The same holds true in the supernatural order: Christian love must be freely chosen. It is a gift of grace, but also a response of the heart.

    That is why true charity is always personal. It is not only about writing a check or supporting a program. It is about opening the heart to God and to others—loving in freedom, with the very love of Christ that has first been given to us.

    Edited with assistance of ChatGPT-5

  • From Donuts to Discipleship: Where My Men’s Group Fits In

    Every Friday at 5:30 in the morning, I gather with several dozen men for That Man is You. It’s not glamorous—we stumble in half-awake, grab coffee and a donut, swap a few jokes, and slowly warm up.

    By 6:00 AM, we’re watching a video on faith, culture, or manhood. Afterward, we break into smaller groups to talk about it—sometimes about the content, sometimes about what’s weighing on our lives. A deacon moderates, keeping us centered on prayer and truth. By 7:00 AM, we’re out the door and off to work.

    On paper, that’s one hour a week. But in reality, it’s much more: it’s an anchor of brotherhood in my week.

    Where It Fits in the “Layered Parish” Model

    I’ve been working on a way to think about relationships in parish life, something I call the Layered Model of Community:

    • Core Sphere (2–5 people): Deep friendship, accountability, prayer partners.
    • Support Sphere (10–15 people): Steady brotherhood and shared life.
    • Community Sphere (50+ people): Wider fellowship—banquets, service projects, parish socials.
    • Mission Sphere (150–500+): The parish or diocese gathered in worship and witness.

    So where does That Man is You land?

    👉 Support Sphere.
    It’s a classic example: small groups of 10–12 men, weekly rhythm, spiritual content, moderated discussion. More than banter, but not intimate enough for every man to share his deepest struggles.

    How It Could Go Deeper

    What makes the Support Sphere strong is that it feeds men consistently. But transformation happens when the Core Sphere grows inside it.

    That could look like:

    • Two or three guys from the group grabbing coffee mid-week.
    • Starting a prayer partnership with one or two men.
    • Checking in outside the meeting—life, struggles, victories.

    In other words: using the Support Sphere as fertile ground for the Core Sphere to take root.

    The Bigger Picture

    That Man is You also stretches upward:

    • As a program, it’s a Community Sphere, connecting dozens of men at the parish level.
    • And it plugs into the Mission Sphere, part of a nationwide movement helping men step up in faith.

    But it’s in those smaller connections—finding your two or three brothers—that the deepest growth happens.

    Because as good as coffee, donuts, and teaching videos are, every man ultimately needs a band of brothers who know him by name and walk with him through life.

    Developed with assistance from ChatGPT-5

  • A Framework for Layered Relationships in Parish Life

    Most people want deeper community, but they’re already stretched thin. That’s why so many parish groups stall: they ask for more time without offering more meaning. The key is layering relationships so that each level has a purpose, fits modern life, and feeds the others.

    Here’s a practical model that any parish can adopt.

    1. Core Sphere (2–5 people)

    Purpose: Deep accountability, spiritual friendship, honest talk.
    Time: 30–60 minutes weekly.
    Content: Confide struggles, pray for one another, encourage growth.
    Example: Two men who meet for prayer once a week, or a group of 3–5 who connect after a parish project to check in about life and faith.

    👉 This is where the real transformation happens. Think of it as spiritual oxygen—you can’t live without it.

    2. Support Sphere (10–15 people)

    Purpose: A steady circle of brothers (or sisters) who share life together.
    Time: 1–2 hours monthly.
    Content: Shared meals, faith discussions, service projects, study, or retreats.
    Example: A small parish fraternity, or a sub-group of men who choose to meet outside of regular meetings.

    👉 This group makes sure no one drifts off alone.

    3. Community Sphere (50+ people)

    Purpose: Broader fellowship and a sense of shared mission.
    Time: A few hours per month, often tied to service or parish-wide gatherings.
    Content: Banquets, festivals, fish fries, service drives, seasonal events.
    Example: The men’s group, the Knights council, or a parish ministry cluster.

    👉 This is the visible life of the parish—but without Spheres 1 & 2, it risks staying shallow.

    4. Mission Sphere (150–500+)

    Purpose: The whole parish or diocese united in worship and mission.
    Time: Weekly Mass, feast days, diocesan events.
    Content: Preaching, sacraments, communal witness.
    Example: The parish gathered at Sunday liturgy, or the wider diocese.

    👉 This is where faith becomes public—but it must be fed by the smaller circles above.

    Why This Works

    • Realistic: Nobody can give 30 minutes a week to 150 people. But they can give 30–60 minutes to a handful, and a few hours to others on rotation.
    • Scalable: The parish doesn’t need to invent new structures—it just needs to layer what already exists.
    • Purpose-driven: Each sphere has a clear reason to exist, not just “another meeting.”

    Practical Action Plan

    • Start with Core Spheres
      • Encourage prayer partnerships or triads.
      • Make it normal for men to check in about life—not just tasks.
    • Form Support Spheres
      • Identify natural clusters (5–10 who already get along).
      • Invite them to gather monthly for a meal + prayer or reflection.
    • Strengthen the Community Sphere
      • Keep projects and banquets, but tie them back to smaller groups.
      • Example: after a service project, small teams pray or debrief together.
    • Integrate with the Mission Sphere
      • Root everything in the Eucharist and parish mission.
      • Celebrate parish-wide what the smaller groups are doing, so it all feels connected.

    ✨ In other words:

    • Mission Sphere = parish identity.
    • Community Sphere = belonging.
    • Support Sphere = brotherhood.
    • Core Sphere = deep friendship.

    Each level feeds the next. Together, they make “walking with every man” not only possible—but natural.

    Developed with assistance from ChatGPT-5

  • New Dunbar:

    Rethinking Relationships in Modern Life

    Dunbar’s Number—the idea that humans can sustain about 150 meaningful relationships—has often been cited as a kind of upper limit of social capacity. But there’s a catch: Dunbar’s research comes largely from survival contexts. Soldiers, tribes, or explorers under hazardous conditions can sustain that many bonds because their very lives depend on it.

    That raises a question: is it even realistic to apply the same model to our own prosperous and distracted society, where survival doesn’t force us into deep dependence on one another?

    The Reality of Time in Modern Life

    Families today often struggle to carve out even thirty minutes of true connection per week per person. Careers, commutes, and constant media distractions consume most of our energy. Unlike survival situations, there is no “hazardous condition” compelling us to give that time to each other.

    Instead, research suggests that most people sustain relationships in smaller tiers:

    • ~5 intimate relationships (spouse, kids, best friend)
    • ~15 close friends (trusted, dependable)
    • ~50 casual friends (social, supportive but not deeply involved)
    • ~150 acquaintances (faces you recognize, people you greet, maybe occasional interaction)

    The idea of giving thirty minutes a week to 150 people simply does not fit modern life.

    What Purpose Is Strong Enough?

    If survival is not the binding force, what kind of purpose can motivate us to invest deeply in others? A few possibilities stand out:

    • Shared mission: groups that see themselves on a spiritual journey together, not just social clubs.
    • Shared suffering: support networks for addiction, illness, grief, or persecution.
    • Shared growth: intentional groups that pursue holiness, spiritual discipline, or formation.

    Without this sense of necessity, relationships often default to shallow banter, logistics, or distractions.

    A Practical Adaptation: The MicroSphere

    If thirty minutes per week per person is unrealistic, perhaps the MicroSphere model can be reframed for modern life:

    • Core MicroSphere: 3–5 people with whom you share weekly conversation, prayer, or accountability. (This might be two hours together, but it touches everyone deeply.)
    • Support Sphere: 10–15 people you connect with at least monthly, sharing faith and encouragement.
    • Outer Sphere: 50–150 acquaintances you know, pray for, and occasionally interact with.

    This layered approach makes room for reality: we cannot invest equally in everyone. But we also cannot reduce community to casual surface contact.

    Why This Matters for the Church

    If we want the Church to be more than Sunday attendance, we need these MicroSpheres of intentional connection. Banter and shared projects may keep us loosely tied, but true growth happens when men and women share purpose, open up about meaning, and walk with one another in faith.

    Dunbar’s insights remain helpful—but only if we adapt them. Our challenge today is not survival, but mission. And that requires building communities strong enough to resist isolation, and deep enough to carry us together toward Christ.

    Developed with assistance from ChatGPT-5

  • The Indelible Mark of Character

    Our lives always bear a seal—whether from Christ, from sin, or from the wounds we carry.

    Connected with the concept of “servant” is the image of the indelible character, which has become part of the Church’s faith. In the language of late antiquity, “character” meant the seal or stamp of possession by which a thing, an animal, or even a person was marked. Once given, it could not be erased. Property so marked was irrevocably identified as belonging to its master.

    Cardinal Ratzinger explains that this “character” is more than a symbol. It is a belonging that becomes part of a person’s very existence, calling after its owner. It is an image of relationship and reference—our lives are never neutral; they always show who we belong to.

    This truth has a sharp edge for our time. Many say they are “interested” in faith but claim they have no time to practice it. But our actions—and inactions—reveal who or what owns us. If God does not mark us, something else will.

    At the same time, life’s wounds leave marks of their own. A traumatic experience can burn itself into character. When a young person loses a parent or suffers abuse, the damage can feel irreversible, like a kind of spiritual PTSD. It alters how they act and even who they seem to become. Many forms of “abnormal” behavior are not just choices but scars that have hardened into character.

    That is why forgiveness matters so deeply. If vengeance or remorse are left unchecked, they can take possession of us until they define our whole being. To forgive and let go is not weakness—it is a way of guarding our character, preventing sin and bitterness from stamping us with their seal.

    Ultimately, the only true freedom is to belong to Christ, who marks us in baptism and calls us His own forever. In Him, even the scars of trauma can be transfigured, no longer chains but signs of grace.

    Ref: Cardinal Ratzinger; Pilgrim Fellowship of Faith p.162 last paragraph.

    Developed with assistance from ChatGPT-5