God’s mercy is not hesitant. It seeks us first. Shame tells us to hide. Mercy invites us forward. This Lent, we are called not only to receive forgiveness but to extend it. Grace restores dignity.

On the mountain, the disciples glimpse Christ’s glory. But they must still walk back into ordinary life. Trust grows not when everything is clear, but when we continue walking with God even when it is not.

Fear loses power when surrendered.

My dear brothers and sisters,

Lent has begun.

Every year the Church invites us into forty sacred days — not as a burden, not as a punishment, but as a journey. A journey back to what matters most. A journey back to God. A journey back to the heart.

A few years into my priesthood, I hit a wall. I had taken on too many commitments: Masses, meetings, ministries, projects. I couldn’t keep up. I was double-booking, forgetting things, running late, and letting people down. My boss at the time, a wise priest, and our shared secretary, noticed. For my birthday, the two gave me a stack of 100 flashcards, each with one word printed in a different language: “NO.” It was funny, but also painfully true. If I couldn’t say no, my yes was in danger.

I recently learned why zebras have stripes. Scientists used to think it was for camouflage, but new research suggests something more interesting: the stripes help zebras blend in with one another. When a predator looks at a herd, the overlapping stripes make it hard to single out one animal. But if a researcher spray-paints a dot on just one zebra, predators lock on it and eventually attack.

A priest I know was once falsely accused of a terrible crime. The claim was wild and easily disproved, but for a while, it didn’t matter. In the atmosphere shaped by the abuse crisis of the early 2000s, the public assumption was guilty until proven innocent. His name was dragged through the mud, and his ministry placed on hold. I had the privilege — and the burden — of walking closely with him during that time.