Seized by Christ

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

Category: Spiritual Growth & Virtue

Personal formation, theological virtues, building character, discerning truth, and handling spiritual crisis.

  • 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

  • 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

  • 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

  • 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

  • 8 Questions on the Road from Christian to Catholic

    From following Christ to belonging to His Church

    After reflecting on the eight questions that move a person toward Christ, I realized there is a further journey: the road from being Christian to being Catholic. Many stop halfway, content with believing in Christ without entering the fullness of His Church. But if Christianity is real, it must lead to the Church Christ founded.

    Here are eight questions that guide that second step:

    1. Is the Catholic Church the Church that God founded?
    2. Do you believe its history?
    3. Are you Catholic because you are Christian?
    4. Is the Church the Body of Christ?
    5. Do you profess with the Nicene Creed: One, Holy, Catholic, and Apostolic?
    6. Do you recognize the Church as the fullness of goodness?
    7. Do you accept her teaching as the fullness of truth?
    8. Do you see her life as the fullness of beauty?

    These questions deepen the challenge. To be Catholic is not merely to add rules, traditions, or identity markers. It is to believe that Christ did not leave us orphans but founded a visible Body — one, holy, catholic, and apostolic — where His truth, goodness, and beauty are made present.

    The first eight questions bring you to Christ. These eight lead you all the way home.

  • The Best Version of Yourself—or Something Greater?

    I first heard the phrase “the best version of yourself” on a business trip to Singapore. Later I heard Matthew Kelly use it, and I wondered—who said it first? Did he pick it up somewhere, or did others pick it up from him?

    Either way, whenever I hear it, I start asking questions. How many versions of myself are there supposed to be? It almost sounds like we’re meant to carry around a closet of personalities. “Today I’ll be Mr. Jekyll. Tomorrow I’ll be the thief. On Sunday I’ll put on my Christian self.” If that’s the case, then which one is the authentic self? And if I have to choose my “best” version, what does that say about all the rest?

    Maybe I’m on version 2.8 of my “best self” today—but what about 2.9, or 3.0? What if the best I can muster still isn’t very good? Do I just keep patching and upgrading like faulty software? Or will people ask, “Is that really your best version, or are you holding something back?”

    The more I hear this phrase, the more I think it misses the point. It makes “the best version of yourself” sound like something you accomplish on your own. But the truth is different: the best version of me is nothing compared to letting Christ live through me.

    And strangely enough, the more I put others first, the more “myself” I become. When I serve, I am surrounded by love and goodwill that multiplies my life far beyond what I could build alone. My “best version” is not about polishing up a private identity—it’s about creating the best version of my service, the best version of my vocation.

    So maybe the question isn’t, What’s the best version of yourself? but Who lives in you? Who do you belong to? Because if it’s just me, the best I can do is never enough. But if it’s Christ—then there is no limit.

    Epilogue: Where Did the Phrase Come From?

    The phrase “the best version of yourself” has become popular in motivational and self-help circles, but it has been especially tied to the work of Matthew Kelly, the Catholic author and speaker. Kelly made it a central theme in his books and talks, and for many people, the phrase is now inseparable from his message of spiritual renewal.

    That said, the idea itself isn’t unique to him. The broader self-improvement world has long promoted similar concepts about unlocking your potential, achieving your highest goals, or striving to become your “best self.”

    But here is the caution: when this phrase is left vague or purely self-focused, it can become just another slogan. It risks making people restless, always chasing after some imagined “best” that never arrives.

    Which brings us back to the Christian answer. The “best version” of you is not something you design or manufacture—it is what happens when Christ lives in you. Left to ourselves, we are always chasing. With Him, we are finally becoming.

    Developed with assistance from ChatGPT-5

  • Wrestling With Ideas:

    Wrestling With Ideas:

    The Church, Orthodoxy, and the Spirit of the Age

    The Catholic Church has always carried a dual responsibility: to guard the deposit of faith and to protect the faithful from error. This task, though divinely entrusted, is carried out by human beings. And like every human institution, the Church is not immune to the influence of surrounding cultures, philosophies, and political theories.

    That tension is felt most keenly when the Church seems to “experiment” with new ways of speaking, teaching, or practicing the faith. At times, these efforts are seen as an attempt to incorporate temporal or even ideological ideas — the kind that history shows do not last. The question, then, is how to distinguish between legitimate development and dangerous dilution.

    One way modern thought often frames progress is through the lens of “thesis–antithesis–synthesis.” First articulated by Hegel and later adapted by Marx, this model suggests that truth advances by the clash of opposing ideas, resolved in a new synthesis. While this might apply in politics, economics, or philosophy, it becomes dangerous when applied to divine revelation.

    God’s truth is not simply another “thesis” waiting to be refined by the latest cultural antithesis. It is the anchor. To treat it otherwise risks diluting eternal truth with passing ideologies.

    Yet history also shows that false ideas, however seductive, tend to collapse under their own weight. They rise, attract attention, and then falter. In their wake, the Church often emerges with a clearer understanding of why such ideas fail. The cost, however, is real: confusion among the faithful, weakened trust, and even generations turning away.

    And still, God allows this wrestling. He permits both the Church and individuals to struggle with competing voices. In the end, truth endures. Consider St. Faustina, St. Bernadette, and St Juan Diego with Our Lady of Guadalupe. Each faced skepticism or outright rejection from Church leaders of their time. Yet their authentic messages bore fruit, purified by trial, and confirmed by their endurance.

    Perhaps this is the deeper lesson: God uses even tension, error, and conflict as a refining fire. What is temporal passes away; what is eternal remains. And in that promise we find hope — for the gates of hell shall not prevail.

    For Catholics today, the task is not to despair when the Church seems to flirt with every new “synthesis.” The task is to hold fast to Christ, to the tradition handed down, and to the lived witness of the saints. Orthodoxy is not fragile; it does not need to reinvent itself in each generation. It needs only to be lived, courageously and faithfully, in every age.

    Developed with assistance from ChatGPT-5

  • Humility Means Staying Close to the Ground

    Lessons from Jiu Jitsu, Scripture, and the Hero’s Descent

    We often think of humility as weakness, but it is really a strength. In a talk I heard today, the speaker said humility means being close to the ground. He used the example of Jiu Jitsu, a martial art strongest when practiced low to the floor.

    That picture opened other connections for me. Jordan Peterson has said that human beings were originally tree creatures — we stayed off the ground because it was unsafe. In myth, the “deep” often represents chaos — the water where danger and the unknown dwell.

    The hero, however, is the one willing to descend. He steps down into the unknown, into danger, into the deep, to face the dragon and gain something new. Humility is not about weakness; it is the stance of someone willing to learn.

    The adversary, in contrast, is proud. He refuses to bow, refuses to learn, and stays aloof from the ground.

    Where is God asking you to “stay close to the ground,” to take the low and humble place so you can learn what you need?

    Developed with assistance from ChatGPT-5

  • Seen by Angels:

    Living Beyond the Judgment of Men

    We live in a culture that often tells us to measure our worth by the crowd. Social approval, likes, recognition, and applause are treated as the highest rewards. But if we stop and think about it, this is a very poor exchange. Why should the noblest part of our nature — our spiritual life — be subjected to the judgment of those who neither see nor understand it? Why should the holiness that comes from God be measured by those who walk the broad road of sin?

    The flesh cannot judge the spirit. The sinner cannot measure the elect of God. Yet so often, instead of looking upward to God for approval, we look downward to men for validation. When we do this, we dishonor ourselves and cheapen the very excellence of our calling.

    Faith opens our eyes to a higher audience. The apostle Paul reminds us that it is not only the world who sees us — we are also “seen by angels” (1 Timothy 3:16). These heavenly beings, who are far stronger and purer than us, watch our lives with interest. They are not spectators who jeer or mock but companions who minister, encourage, and serve.

    Paul even goes further: God has chosen to display His wisdom to the heavenly realms through the Church itself (Ephesians 3:10). When we live faithfully, our actions ripple beyond the visible world. They become testimonies to powers and principalities, signs of God’s glory unfolding through His people.

    This changes everything. When we were baptized, we were not only united to Christ but brought into a hidden fellowship — “an innumerable company of angels” (Hebrews 12:22). We share in their hidden life, their worship, and their service. Like them, our lives are often hidden, unseen by the world. But just as they are present to God, so too are we.

    That’s why Paul exhorted Timothy not just to obey in view of God, but also in the sight of the angels (1 Timothy 5:21). Imagine how different our lives would be if we truly believed this. Even in our most private deeds, even in our most carefully guarded solitude, we are not alone. We are witnessed by heaven.

    This awareness is not meant to make us fearful but to give us dignity. The world may mock, ignore, or misunderstand, but our lives are valuable in the sight of God and His holy angels. We are never abandoned, and we are never unseen.

    So, the next time you feel the pull to lower yourself to the judgment of men, remember this: you are seen by angels. Live for the audience of heaven, not the applause of earth.

    👉 Reflection Question for Readers:
     How might your daily life change if you remembered that every choice, even the smallest, was witnessed by God and His angels?

    John Henry Newman, The World’s Benefactors, Parochial and Plain Sermons, Vol. 2, Sermon 1. Read it online

    Developed with assistance from ChatGPT-5

  • When the Church Faces Crisis:

    How Truth Endures Through the Ages

    Every age of the Church has faced storms. At times the threats came from outside — persecution, ridicule, or hostile powers. Other times, the threats rose from within — confusion, corruption, false teaching. In those moments, it has often seemed as though the very foundations of faith were shaking. Yet again and again, God has used such crises not only to purify His Church but also to raise up saints who held fast to the truth.

    The Arian Crisis

    In the 4th century, much of the Church was swept away by the Arian heresy, which denied the full divinity of Christ. Bishops, emperors, and even entire regions sided with this distortion of the Gospel. Ordinary Christians found themselves wondering if the faith had been lost. Yet in that dark moment, figures like St. Athanasius stood firm, even at the cost of exile and persecution. Through their fidelity, the true doctrine of Christ was preserved, and the Church eventually emerged stronger, with the Nicene Creed as a lasting testament to truth.

    The Reformation

    In the 16th century, the Church faced one of its greatest upheavals: the Protestant Reformation. Corruption and abuses within the hierarchy had already shaken confidence in the institution. When Luther and others rose up in protest, their grievances quickly grew into theological revolts that shattered Christian unity in the West. Millions were swept into schism, and faith in the Church as a visible sign of unity seemed broken. Yet even in this turmoil, saints like St. Ignatius of Loyola, St. Teresa of Ávila, and St. Charles Borromeo rose up. They called the Church not to abandon her foundations, but to reform by returning to holiness, clarity of doctrine, and fidelity to Christ. Their witness helped bring about the Counter-Reformation, a renewal that revitalized Catholic life and mission for centuries.

    The Modernist Crisis

    Fast forward to the late 19th and early 20th centuries, when Modernism threatened the heart of Catholic thought. It claimed to “update” Christianity by reducing it to psychology, sociology, and human opinion, stripping away the mystery of divine revelation. Pope St. Pius X saw this as “the synthesis of all heresies,” and his strong response preserved the faith against being dissolved into mere philosophy. Out of this struggle emerged renewed clarity on the relationship between faith and reason, paving the way for later theological developments that were both faithful and fruitful.

    What This Means for Us Today

    Looking back, one thing is clear: whenever the Church has faced crisis, some have fallen away. The faith of many proved shallow or dependent on the approval of the age. Yet at the same time, crises have always forged saints — men and women who stood firm, who refused compromise, and who became living lights for future generations.

    We should not be surprised if our own time feels like such a crisis. The Church wrestles with new pressures: secular ideologies, internal confusion, and a temptation to water down truth in the name of relevance. Some may lose their way. But God is not defeated. He is, even now, raising up saints.

    The question for us is: Will we be among those who fall away, or among those who stand firm? History shows that when the storm passes, it is always those who clung to Christ — simply, humbly, and faithfully — who carried the Church through.

    Developed with assistance from ChatGPT-5