What would it take?

Today’s readings:

  • Hebrews 10:32-39
  • Psalm 37:3-40 (Responsorial)
  • Matthew 11:25 (Alleluia)
  • Mark 4:26-34

In the Douay, the RSV, or the NABRE.

Therefore do not throw away your confidence, which has a great reward. For you have need of endurance, so that you may do the will of God and receive what is promised… But we are not of those who shrink back and are destroyed, but of those who have faith and keep their souls.
Hebrews 10:35-36, 39

What will you stand? What is the last thing you are willing to give up before you give up?

Your political freedom curtailed?
Your economic freedom curtailed?
The loss of your “healthcare” rights?
The loss of your job?
The loss of your house?
The loss of your friends?
The loss of your internet access?
The loss of your credit cards?
The loss of your phone?
The loss of your stuff?
Will you sneak out to Mass if it’s illegal?
Would you go to another parish if your parish became infected with Americanism?
Would you take in a priest or a nun in hiding?
Would you carry incriminating evidence? A rosary, a Bible?
Would you allow it in your house?
Could you watch your friends die?
Could you watch your family die?
Could you watch your friends apostasize?
Could you watch your family apostasize?
Could you stand to be turned in by your spouse?
Your children?
Your boss?
Would you forgive them and pray for them anyway?
Could you go without food?
Could you go without water?
Could you hide in the humid darkness in still terror while men look for you?
Could you preach in prison?
Could you witness to the truth even when people around you claiming to be Christian are worshipping the emperor?
Are you sure?
Even when you can’t give up meat on Friday?
Or sit in Church longer than :55 on Sundays?
For real?

Author: Huw Richardson

I'm no Benedictine, but I'm too old for the Franciscans. I'm in the process of moving servers... so trying to keep both of my "linked sites" in sync until there's only one. There can be only one. Huw Richardson was born in Atlanta under a different name about 55 years ago. I never knew my father nor any of his kin. I’ve lived all over: I was never in the same house for 3 Christmases until I was over 40. I’ve not yet made it to 4. Rootlessness seems to be a way of life and every time I think I’m about to root, it ends up not happening. Yet I’ve made some amazing friends online. I’ve met some awesome people all over the world. I’ve met religious leaders and heads of state and famous movie stars. I’ve also managed to be debt-free. I’ve stood on the Hill of Tara and touched the Lia Fail. It did not cry out. I’ve kissed the Blarney Stone as well, if you can’t guess. I have illicitly touched ancient, holy statues to see if anything would happen and I have never used flash photography when I should not have. I’ve been a bookseller, a call center drone, a trainer, a convert, a preacher, a monk, a planter, a secretary, a writer, and an activist. My patron is Blessed Stanley Rother. When I’m in trouble, he’s got my back. He prays for me, along with St Rose of Lima, St. Catherine of Siena, St John Henry Newman, Bl Fulton J Sheen, and Bl. William Richardson. I’m a Dominican Tertiary and a member of Courage International. This is home: I’ve found my roots by using my wings. What’s next? I don’t know. Part of me wants to just pick out a camper and gig my way around the world. Part of me wants to own a pub in Ireland and feed my soul with good music until forever. Part of me has always taught. Some part of me dances whenever the moon is full. Another part of me kneels in awe in the darkness as all the stars spin but the cross stands still.