Continuing a short series on sin: Evil is the soul's choice of the not-God. The corollary is that damnation read more

Continuing a short series on sin: Evil is the soul's choice of the not-God. The corollary is that damnation or hell, is the permanent choice of the not-God. God does not (in the monstrous old-fashioned phrase) "send" anybody to hell; hell is that state of the soul in which its choice becomes obdurate and fixed; the punishment (so to call it) of that soul is to remain eternally in that State which it has chosen.

Commemoration of Rose of Lima, Contemplative, 1617 For the saints in the world to come, there can be no read more

Commemoration of Rose of Lima, Contemplative, 1617 For the saints in the world to come, there can be no change in the object of their faith and hope and love. They have Christ, they have God, and they are satisfied. There can be no monotony in the contemplation and worship of the Infinite. Their great possession is unchangeable, but also inexhaustible; no change is possible where all is love and truth. The centre of the heavenly life is fixed and immovable, but the circumference may ever be advancing towards the centre, the saints may ever be drawing nearer and nearer to the goal which they can never reach. There may be progress in knowledge, progress in enjoyment, progress in service -- a progress which at every point will open up new wonders, new opportunities, new outlooks into a greater future, and as that future unfolds itself, new and unexpected scopes for the energies of redeemed men, new ways of fellowship with God in Christ, new companionships with the good and great of past generations, and with angelic beings who have watched and guarded us in life, and rejoiced over our repentance, and are ready to welcome us into the eternal mansions, and will share our worship and our work, our service and our joy, in the ages to come.

"Books," said St. Augustine after his conversion, "could not teach me charity." We still keep on thinking they can. We read more

"Books," said St. Augustine after his conversion, "could not teach me charity." We still keep on thinking they can. We do not realize ... the utter distinctness of God and the things of God. Psychology of religion can not teach us prayer, and ethics cannot teach us love. Only Christ can do that, and He teaches by the direct method, in and among the circumstances of life. He does not mind about our being comfortable. He wants us to be strong, able to tackle life and be Christians, be apostles in life, so we must be trained by the ups and downs, the rough-and-tumble of life. Team games are compulsory in the school of Divine Love -- there is no getting into a corner with a nice, spiritual book.

Feast of Dunstan, Archbishop of Canterbury, 988 Can the love of Christ move a Christian to fruitful, effective, full-time, read more

Feast of Dunstan, Archbishop of Canterbury, 988 Can the love of Christ move a Christian to fruitful, effective, full-time, unpaid service to those who belong to Him? I have no hesitation in answering, Yes, it can, and it must. St. Paul wrote, "The very spring of our actions is the love of Christ. We look at it this way: if one died for all men, then in a sense, they all died; and his purpose in dying for them is that their lives should now be no longer lived for themselves but for Him who died and rose again for them." There is the motive. Can anyone doubt that St. Paul's ministry was fruitful -- in wisdom, in Christ-like character, in testimony to the power of the Spirit of Christ -- or effective -- in conversions, in churches planted, in men raised up to carry on the work? Yet St. Paul spent long hours working with his hands to support himself. He served Christ, therefore, as an "amateur". Dare we say he was not really a "full time" worker? Or was he not really "unpaid"?

Nothing is so easy to men of goodwill as goodwill itself, and this is all that God requires. Every act read more

Nothing is so easy to men of goodwill as goodwill itself, and this is all that God requires. Every act of goodwill permanently and sensibly increases goodwill. Trifling acts of goodwill are often more efficacious in this way than great ones. A flower given in kindness and at the right time profits more, both to giver and receiver, than some vast material benefit in which the goodwill is hidden by the magnitude of the act. Some little, sensible, individual touch from the hand of our Lord may convert the heart more than the contemplation of His death for us.

CHRISTMAS DAY Jesus came! - and came for me. Simple words! and yet expressing Depths of holy mystery, read more

CHRISTMAS DAY Jesus came! - and came for me. Simple words! and yet expressing Depths of holy mystery, Depths of wondrous love and blessing. Holy Spirit, make me see All His coming means for me; Take the things of Christ, I pray, Show them to my heart today.

Feast of Cuthbert, Bishop of Lindisfarne, Missionary, 687 The humblest and the most unseen activity in the world read more

Feast of Cuthbert, Bishop of Lindisfarne, Missionary, 687 The humblest and the most unseen activity in the world can be the true worship of God. Work and worship literally become one. Man's chief end is to glorify God and to enjoy him for ever; and man carries out that function when he does what God sent him into the world to do. Work well done rises like a hymn of praise to God. This means that the doctor on his rounds, the scientist in his laboratory, the teacher in his classroom, the musician at his music, the artist at his canvas, the shop assistant at his counter, the typist at her typewriter, the housewife in her kitchen -- all who are doing the work of the world as it should be done are joining in a great act of worship.

Feast of François de Sales, Bishop of Geneva, Teacher, 1622 We must not be unjust and require from read more

Feast of François de Sales, Bishop of Geneva, Teacher, 1622 We must not be unjust and require from ourselves what is not in ourselves. Do not desire not to be what you are, but desire to be very well what you are.

There is such a thing as taking ourselves and the world too seriously, or at any rate too anxiously. Half read more

There is such a thing as taking ourselves and the world too seriously, or at any rate too anxiously. Half of the secular unrest and dismal, profane sadness of modern society comes from the vain idea that every man is bound to be a critic of life, and to let no day pass without finding some fault with the general order of things, or projecting some plan for its general improvement. And the other half comes from the greedy notion that a man's life does consist, after all, in the abundance of things that he possesseth, and that it is, somehow or other, more respectable and pious to be always at work trying to make a larger living, than it is to lie on your back in the green pastures and beside the still waters, and thank God that you are alive.