Throughout Scripture, God’s people are repeatedly told to remember. They are not simply asked to remember historical facts. They are asked to remember what God has done for them.

After the Israelites cross the Jordan River, Joshua tells them to take twelve stones from the river and build a memorial. In the future, when their children ask, “What do these stones mean to you?” (Josh 3 and 4) they are to tell the story of how God brought them through the waters. The stones were there because people forget.

The Book of Deuteronomy repeatedly warns the people not to forget the Lord when life becomes comfortable and successful. And the Psalms constantly call God’s people to remember:

“I will remember the deeds of the Lord; yes, I will remember your wonders of old.”
Psalm 77:11

Remembering strengthens faith. When we recall where God has been faithful in the past, we become better able to trust God in the present.

2. Remembering Helps Us See What We Could Not See Before

One of the great challenges of spiritual life is that we often do not understand what God is doing while we are living through an experience.

Joseph is a wonderful example. As a young man, he is betrayed by his brothers, sold into slavery, falsely accused, and imprisoned. At each stage, his life appears to be moving further away from the dreams God had placed within him.

Only years later can Joseph look back and see a larger story. What once appeared to be a series of meaningless disasters had become part of something that saved many lives.

This is often true in our own lives. A disappointment, loss, or transition may make little sense while we are living through it. But years later, we sometimes look back and realize, If that had not happened, I would never be here.

3. Ignatian Remembering Is Prayerful Looking Back

Saint Ignatius understood the importance of looking backward. The Examen invites us to review our day, not simply to evaluate our behavior, but to notice God’s presence.

Where did I experience gratitude? When did I feel most alive? Where was there consolation? Where was there resistance or desolation?

Over time, this practice teaches us to recognize patterns in the way God works in our lives. We begin to notice the people, experiences, desires, and circumstances through which grace has repeatedly appeared. This kind of remembering can become especially important when we are entering a new season. Before asking, Where is God leading me? we might first ask: How has God led me before?

4. Remembering Is Not Nostalgia

There is an important difference between remembering and nostalgia.

Nostalgia looks backward and wishes we could return. Spiritual remembering looks backward with gratitude and asks what God was doing.

The goal is not to recreate an earlier season of life. Every season has its own grace. The young adult we once were, the parent raising children, the professional building a career, or the person we were during a difficult season all belonged to a particular chapter of our story.

Maia Angelou Poem
i hope
when you come home to yourself
there are flowers lining the front porch
that were left from all the women
you were before

The poet’s image is beautiful: when we come home to ourselves, perhaps there are flowers waiting for us, left there by all the people we have been before. Our former selves, even the wounded, mistaken, confused, or unfinished versions of ourselves, deserve gratitude rather than rejection. They brought us here.

5. Remembering Prepares Us to Listen Again

When we remember how God has spoken in the past, we become more attentive to how God may be speaking now. Perhaps God spoke through a person who appeared at just the right time. Perhaps through a door that unexpectedly opened, or one that painfully closed. Perhaps through a desire that would not go away. Perhaps through a difficult season that we only understood years later.

The Psalmist prays: “Let the favor of the Lord our God be upon us, and prosper for us the work of our hands.” Psalm 90:17

As we enter a new season, we may not know what lies ahead. But we can remember. We can look back and say: God was there. God was working. God was speaking.

And perhaps that memory will give us the courage to believe that God is still speaking now.

How God Spoke to Ruth

The Book of Ruth is a quiet narrative set in the time of the judges, a period marked by instability and loss. Ruth, a Moabite widow, chooses to remain with her mother‑in‑law Naomi after both have suffered deep grief. Their journey back to Bethlehem unfolds through ordinary events – gleaning in fields, meeting Boaz, receiving the support of the community – yet these simple movements lead to restoration, belonging, and ultimately to Ruth becoming part of Israel’s lineage of hope. The story never includes a divine voice, yet God’s presence is unmistakably woven through every chapter.

1. God speaks through the witness of another person (Naomi)

Ruth’s first encounter with the God of Israel comes through Naomi’s life. Even in sorrow, Naomi continues to walk in faith, and Ruth sees something compelling enough to follow. Her pledge – “Your people shall be my people, and your God my God” (Ruth 1:16) – is a response to lived witness rather than spoken instruction. Naomi’s fidelity becomes the quiet channel through which Ruth begins to hear God.

2. God speaks through providential circumstances

When Ruth goes out to glean, the narrator notes that she “happened to come to the part of the field belonging to Boaz” (Ruth 2:3). The understated phrasing invites the reader to notice God’s hidden guidance. Ruth simply takes the next faithful step, and in that ordinary action she finds herself in the place where blessing awaits. The book suggests that divine direction often arrives through subtle, everyday circumstances rather than dramatic signs.

3. God speaks through the blessing and kindness of others (Boaz)

Boaz’s words to Ruth carry a depth that reveals God’s care: “May the LORD reward you… under whose wings you have come for refuge” (Ruth 2:12). His kindness, protection, and generosity become instruments of God’s voice. Boaz names the grace at work in Ruth’s life before she can fully see it herself. Through him, God speaks encouragement, dignity, and shelter.

4. God speaks through the community’s recognition

At the story’s end, the women of Bethlehem bless Naomi and Ruth, proclaiming that the child born to Ruth will be a source of renewal (Ruth 4:14–15). Their words confirm what has been quietly unfolding: God has been present in every step. The community becomes the final voice that interprets the journey and reveals its deeper meaning.

Closing Reflection

Ruth’s story offers a gentle invitation to notice how God speaks in quiet ways – through faithful people, unfolding circumstances, unexpected kindness, and the wisdom of community. She never hears God directly, yet her life is shaped by divine guidance at every turn. Her journey encourages a patient, attentive listening for the subtle movements of grace already present in one’s own life.

How God Spoke to Me During the Year of Sadness

For twenty-eight years, I had worked in the steel industry, eventually becoming a General Manager. It was a good job in many ways. I had freedom, independence, a company car, an expense account, and a work family that had become an important part of my life. Yet something inside me was beginning to change. What followed was not a single dramatic message from God, but a series of experiences, disappointments, prayers, songs, and unexpected moments that slowly pointed me toward a new season. Looking back, I can see that God was speaking long before I understood what God was saying.

1. A Year of Sadness

There was a period I came to think of as a year of sadness. I had become increasingly disillusioned with my work and my future. Some mornings, the commute to work was painful. I would lament to God, asking for some kind of change.

What made the sadness particularly difficult was that I could not simply fix it. I tried many of the things that had always helped me stay balanced. I exercised, stayed socially engaged, took on gratifying projects, practiced gratitude, encouraged others, and remained faithful to prayer. None of it seemed to reach the deeper sadness. My circumstances had not changed, and I could not see what was ahead.

2. Learning to Pray Differently

During that time, I began praying more intentionally. On my morning walks, I prayed the Angelus and sometimes the Rosary. Rather than focusing entirely on my own problems, I began praying for the people at work, the people in formation, and my family.

Over time, something changed. My future was still uncertain. My job was still the same. But the sadness gradually lifted, and my interior attitude changed. Looking back, I credit Mary with helping bring about that change. Before God changed my circumstances, God began changing something within me.

3. Chiquitita: An Unexpected Song

During this period, I became fascinated with an ABBA song, Chiquitita. There was a Spanish version, and I decided to learn the lyrics as a way of improving my Spanish.

One day, the words struck me differently. The song speaks to someone whose sadness is keeping them in chains. Suddenly, I began to hear the song almost as if Mary were speaking directly to me.

It was not a religious song. In fact, it was a pop song with a capital P. Yet somehow, in that moment, it became part of my prayer. God can speak through Scripture and silence, but sometimes God also reaches us through the most unexpected places.

4. Doors Closed and Another Door Opened

As I looked for a change, I explored other possibilities. I interviewed for General Manager positions and pursued ideas such as spiritual direction, business coaching, and consulting. Some opportunities looked promising, but they did not work out.

Then something remarkable happened. On a Wednesday evening, I received word that a promising General Manager position would not be filled. The next afternoon, I received an email asking whether I might be interested in interviewing for the position of Director of the Catholic Conference Center.

The Conference Center had never been on my list. Yet suddenly I could see how my business experience, my work planning events and retreats, and my desire to serve the Church as a deacon might come together. I had not connected those dots, but perhaps God had.

5. Take a Chance on Me

The possibility of leaving the steel industry for hospitality and retreat ministry was enormous. I was considering leaving behind a career, a comfortable position, and a workplace that had been my professional home for twenty-eight years.

As I was discerning the decision, my cat knocked over a statue of Mary beside my bed. In the process, something accidentally triggered another ABBA song: Take a Chance on Me.

Again, I don’t claim that God was sending me secret messages through ABBA. But the timing made me smile. After months of sadness, prayer, uncertainty, and discernment, I could not help but wonder if God had a sense of humor.

6. Looking Back, I Can See the Conversation

At the time, I wanted God to speak clearly and tell me exactly what to do. Instead, the guidance came gradually. There was sadness that pushed me to pray. There were disappointments that closed other possibilities. There was Mary, silence, songs, unexpected conversations, and finally an invitation I never would have imagined for myself.

Perhaps that is often how God speaks. Not always through one dramatic moment, but through a conversation that unfolds over time.

The challenge is learning to look back and recognize that God may have been speaking to us all along.

Chapters of your spiritual autobiography

Single out the seasons of your life were there was great transformation. Not biographical, but transformational. Consider: people. Community. Feeling. Identity lies and corrective truths. God’s work.

Abraham called for form nation
Exodus
Exile
Passion

Consider: people. Community. Feeling. Identity lies and corrective truths. God’s work.

My Chapters:

From lost boy to redeemed boy
From redeemed by to called boy
From called boy to beloved son
From beloved son to mission
From mission to cross

Next chapter:

From cross to tomb. From tomb to new life.

How God Spoke to Me – Reflection Questions

1. When I look back over my life, what moments stand out as times when God was quietly present, even if I did not recognize it at the time?

2. Is there a season of my life that only makes sense now that I am looking back?

3. If I imagine my life as a conversation with God, what has God been saying in recent months?

2^nd Conference: God Changing Me

The Three Movements of Transition

In Transitions, William Bridges makes an important distinction between change and transition. Change is what happens externally: a job ends, children leave home, a relationship changes, retirement begins, or we move to a new place. Transition is the internal process by which we let go of the old, move through uncertainty, and gradually embrace the new. Bridges describes this process in three movements.

1. The Ending — Letting Go
Every genuine transition begins with an ending. Before we can enter something new, something old must be released. This can involve letting go of a role, relationship, identity, expectation, dream, or way of life. Even positive changes can involve grief because something familiar is being left behind. We often resist this stage because we want the benefits of the new season without experiencing the loss associated with the old one.

2. The Neutral Zone — The Messy Middle
After the old has ended but before the new has taken shape, we enter what Bridges calls the neutral zone. This is the uncomfortable space of uncertainty, ambiguity, and disorientation. We may feel as though we are wandering without a clear sense of direction. Yet Bridges sees this period as more than an empty gap. It can be a profoundly creative time when old assumptions are reconsidered, new possibilities emerge, and we begin to discover who we are becoming. Spiritually, this can be a wilderness—a place where God seems less obvious, but where God may be doing some of the deepest work.

3. The New Beginning — Moving Forward
Eventually, a new beginning emerges. We develop a new sense of purpose, identity, and direction. Importantly, Bridges emphasizes that a beginning is not simply starting something new externally. It requires an inner commitment to the new reality. We begin to see ourselves differently and understand what is being asked of us.

The spiritual invitation throughout the process is trust. We cannot always control the timing of a transition or see where it is leading. But we can ask: What is God asking me to release? What is God doing in this in-between time? And what new thing might God be inviting me to receive?

Molly’s Messy Middle

When I read William Bridges’ description of the neutral zone, or what I call the “messy middle,” I immediately thought about my daughter Molly when she went off to college. I share this story with her permission.

1. An Ending She Didn’t Fully Recognize

Molly had grown up in a world where she was known.

She is somewhat shy and very introverted, but she is also pretty, likable, and genuine. People enjoyed being around her. She attended a small high school where she did well academically and athletically. She followed two older brothers through the school, and her mother worked in the school system. Molly was known. She belonged. She rarely went unnoticed.

Then she went off to college at NC State.

This is where Bridges’ understanding of transition becomes helpful. The change was obvious: Molly went away to college. But the transition was something deeper. She was leaving behind an identity and a world she had known her entire life.

The ending had begun, even though she probably didn’t yet realize what she was losing.

2. The Expectations Didn’t Survive the Change

Molly arrived at college with certain expectations. She assumed people would continue to include her. She imagined that friends would naturally appear and invite her into their lives, just as they had before.

At the same time, she saw college as an opportunity to reinvent herself. Perhaps this would be the place where she could become more outgoing, more gregarious, and more popular.

But NC State was very different from her small high school. In a university of that size, Molly was not simply overlooked. She was unknown.

And the person she thought she might become did not suddenly appear just because she had moved into a dormitory.

3. Entering the Messy Middle

Those first few months were painful. I remember Friday nights when Molly would call us, deeply depressed. Everyone in the dorm seemed to be going out, and she felt left behind. Those were heartbreaking calls for parents to receive.

This was Molly’s neutral zone, the space Bridges describes between the old reality and the new one. The old world was gone. She was no longer the well-known student surrounded by familiar people and relationships. But the new world had not yet formed. She had not yet found her place, her people, or even a clear sense of who she was becoming.

This is what makes the middle so messy. We have let go of something familiar, but we have not yet discovered what comes next.

4. Letting Go of Who She Thought She Needed to Become

Part of Molly’s transition involved letting go of an expectation about herself. She had hoped college would transform her from an introvert into a gregarious, outgoing person. But eventually she began to discover that she did not need to become someone else in order to flourish.

Over time, she found a few close friends. The Friday-night pity parties ended. Slowly, a new life began to take shape.

And something even more important happened. Molly began to recognize that some of the traits she had once wanted to change were actually strengths. Her introspection, authenticity, and sensitivity had initially seemed swallowed up in this new environment. But eventually those very qualities helped her form deep relationships and flourish among friends and colleagues.

5. The Beginning That Could Only Come Through the Middle

Bridges reminds us that a genuine beginning often comes only after we have moved through an ending and survived the uncertainty in between.

I recently asked Molly about that difficult transition. She told me she hardly thinks about college anymore. And when she does, she doesn’t primarily remember the painful Friday nights.

She remembers that college as the place where she met her husband.

That is one of the mysteries of the messy middle. While we are living through it, it can feel as though it will last forever. But years later, it may become simply one chapter in a much larger story.

Molly’s difficult transition shaped her. It helped her discover who she was, rather than who she thought she needed to become. And perhaps that is one of the gifts hidden in the messy middle.

Sometimes we have to lose the life we expected before we can discover the life that is waiting to emerge.

Jacob: Learning to Let Go

Jacob’s life is a story of movement, struggle, and transformation. From the beginning, Jacob was a man who grasped for what he wanted. He grasped his brother Esau’s birthright and blessing, deceived his father, and fled from home. He spent years with Laban, building a family and acquiring great wealth, only to find himself eventually called to return to the land he had left behind. Now, on his journey home, Jacob discovers that the hardest thing he must leave behind is not a place. It is the person he has always been.

1. Jacob Is Between Two Worlds

Genesis 32 finds Jacob in a profoundly uncomfortable place. He has left Laban and is returning home, but Esau – the brother he deceived years earlier – is coming to meet him. Jacob knows he cannot simply return to the old life, but he has no idea what awaits him in the new one. This is often what makes transitions so difficult. The old season is ending, but the new season has not yet taken shape. We can find ourselves longing for what was simply because what lies ahead feels uncertain.

2. Jacob Tries to Manage the Transition

Jacob responds to his uncertainty the way Jacob always has: he takes control. He divides his possessions and servants into groups, sends gifts ahead to Esau, and carefully calculates how to protect himself and his family. There is something deeply human here. When life becomes uncertain, we often try to manage our way into the future. We make plans, analyze possibilities, and look for ways to preserve what we have. But sometimes the invitation of God is not to figure everything out, but to let go of our need to control the outcome.

3. The Night of Wrestling

Then Jacob is left alone. During the night, he wrestles with a mysterious man until daybreak. The struggle is physical, but it also becomes a spiritual picture of Jacob’s life. He has spent years wrestling with others – with Esau, with Laban, even with circumstances – but now he is wrestling with God. And Jacob refuses to let go until he receives a blessing. Yet the blessing comes with a wound. Jacob’s hip is touched, and he leaves the encounter limping. God does not simply remove Jacob’s struggle; God changes Jacob through it. Sometimes a transition leaves us wounded. We may not emerge from a difficult season unchanged. But perhaps the wound itself becomes a reminder that we no longer have to live by the same strategies that once seemed necessary for survival.

4. Jacob Receives a New Name

The most significant moment comes when Jacob is given a new name: Israel. The man who had spent his life grasping and striving receives a new identity. This is the deeper work that can happen in a transition. God may not simply be changing our circumstances. God may be changing us. Letting go, therefore, is not simply giving something up. It is making room to receive something new. We may have to release an old role, an old expectation, an old dream, or even an old understanding of ourselves before we can recognize who God is calling us to become.

5. Jacob Walks Into the New Season

When morning comes, Jacob crosses the river and goes to meet Esau. He does not know how the story will unfold. But he goes forward. That may be the invitation for us as well. We don’t need to see the whole road. We need enough courage to release what belongs to yesterday and enough trust to take the next step. Perhaps the question is not simply, “What new thing is God asking me to do?” but “What old thing is God asking me to let go of so that I can receive the new?”

What do I need to let go? Discussion Questions

1. What is one ending in my life that I may not have fully acknowledged or grieved, and how might God be inviting me to release it?

2. Where do I feel like I am in the messy middle right now, and what is happening in me that I might not have noticed before?

3. What new beginning might be quietly forming in my life, even if I cannot yet see the whole picture?

3^rd Conference: God Inviting Me

Invitations and Expectations

Invitations and Expectations

I have learned over the years that there is a quiet but important difference between the life I live because I think I am supposed to, and the life I live because God is actually inviting me into it. Expectations have a way of piling up without our noticing. They come from roles we carry, people we love, habits we formed long ago, and even from the stories we tell ourselves about who we must be. They can feel noble, responsible, or even holy, but they often leave us tired, crowded, and strangely disconnected from the very God we are trying to serve.

I have lived from that place more times than I care to admit. Seasons when my plate was too full, yet I kept adding more because I felt I should. Seasons when I said yes out of obligation rather than discernment. Seasons when I tried to meet every need simply because it was there. Expectations rarely ask whether something is mine to carry. They simply whisper, You should be able to handle this.

Invitations feel different. They come with a gentler tone. They do not pressure or push. They make space. They draw us toward freedom rather than exhaustion. Invitations often begin quietly, sometimes in prayer, sometimes in a moment of rest, sometimes in the subtle tug of desire that keeps returning. They do not demand that we become someone else. They simply ask us to be attentive to what God is doing now.

During transitions, this difference becomes even more important. Expectations keep us rooted in the old season. Invitations help us step into the new one. When I look back, I can see that the most life-giving movements in my story began not because I tried harder, but because I finally stopped long enough to notice what God was inviting me to receive.

The table below offers a way to see that difference more clearly and to pray from a place of freedom rather than pressure.

Mary: A Life Shaped by God’s Invitations

Mary’s life appears, at first, to be remarkably ordinary. She was a young woman from Nazareth, betrothed to Joseph, living within the expectations and rhythms of Jewish family life. Yet her life would become a remarkable journey of receiving one unexpected invitation after another. What is striking is that Mary is rarely given the whole picture. At each stage, she receives enough light to take the next step. Her story is not simply the story of the mother of Jesus. It is the story of a woman who continually allows God to reshape her life.

1. The Annunciation: An Unexpected Beginning

Mary’s first great disruption comes at the Annunciation. Gabriel enters her ordinary life with news she could never have anticipated: she will conceive and bear the Son of God. Mary is troubled and asks a question: “How can this be?” Yet after listening to the angel, she gives her consent: “Let it be done to me according to your word.” That yes changes everything. Mary does not know what lies ahead. She does not know Bethlehem, Egypt, Simeon, Cana, or Calvary. She knows only what has been revealed to her in this moment. Her journey begins not with a complete plan, but with a response to what God has placed before her.

2. The Visitation: Carrying Christ to Others

Soon after the Annunciation, Mary travels to visit Elizabeth. The journey is both physical and spiritual. Mary is carrying within her the mystery she has received, and she enters into the life of another person. Elizabeth recognizes what God is doing in Mary, and Mary responds with the Magnificat. She praises God for looking upon her lowliness and doing great things for her. Mary’s new season does not lead her inward toward isolation. Having received God’s word, she carries that grace into relationship, service, and community.

3. Bethlehem and the Flight into Egypt: A Life That Does Not Go According to Plan

Mary’s yes does not make life easier. The birth of Jesus comes with disruption and uncertainty. There is no room at the inn. Soon afterward, Joseph is warned in a dream to flee because Herod is seeking the child. Mary becomes a refugee, taking Jesus into Egypt. Imagine what this must have been like. Mary had said yes to God, but the path that followed was not what she might have expected. God’s invitation did not remove difficulty from her life. It led her through difficulty. And Mary continued to say yes.

4. Simeon’s Prophecy: “A Sword Will Pierce Your Heart”

When Mary and Joseph present Jesus in the Temple, Simeon recognizes the child as the promised Messiah. But his words to Mary contain a startling prophecy: “And you yourself a sword will pierce.” Mary’s vocation will include joy, but it will also include suffering she cannot yet understand. The child she has received as a gift will eventually become the source of profound sorrow. Mary does not receive an explanation for everything that is coming. She receives a word that she will carry with her. Luke later tells us that Mary “kept all these things, reflecting on them in her heart.” Her response to mystery is not immediate resolution. It is contemplation.

5. Cana: Mary Notices What Others Miss

Years later, at the wedding at Cana, Mary notices something that others apparently have missed: the wine has run out. She brings the situation to Jesus. There is something beautiful about this small scene. Mary is attentive. She notices. She brings what she sees to Jesus and then tells the servants: “Do whatever he tells you.” Mary does not control the outcome. She simply recognizes a need, brings it to Jesus, and points others toward him.

6. The Pietà: Mary at the End of the Journey

The journey that began with the Annunciation eventually leads Mary to Calvary. In Michelangelo’s Pietà, we see the final consequences of her first yes. The young woman who once held the infant Jesus in Bethlehem now holds his lifeless body in her arms. The contrast is almost unbearable. At the Annunciation, Mary says yes without knowing where that yes will lead. At the foot of the Cross, she remains when almost everything has been taken away. Mary’s life reminds us that God’s invitations rarely come as a complete blueprint. They unfold one moment, one season, one response at a time. Her story moves from Nazareth to Bethlehem, from Bethlehem to Egypt, from Cana to Calvary, and through it all Mary remains attentive, pondering, receiving, and responding. Her life gives us a picture of what it means to walk with God when we cannot yet see the whole road.

6. Mary Ponders: Making Room for God in the Silence

There is another quality that runs quietly through Mary’s story: she ponders. Luke tells us that after the shepherds tell Mary what they have heard about Jesus, “Mary kept all these things, reflecting on them in her heart.” Later, after Jesus is found in the Temple, Luke uses the same language again. Mary does not immediately understand everything that is happening. She holds these experiences, returns to them, and allows their meaning to unfold over time. The Greek word Luke uses for “ponder” suggests more than simply thinking about something. It carries the sense of bringing things together, holding seemingly disconnected pieces until a deeper meaning begins to emerge. Mary is, in a sense, gathering the fragments of her life and allowing God to show her how they belong together.

What are my Invitations and Expectations? Discussion Questions:

1. Where in my life do I feel the weight of expectations, and how do those expectations shape the way I pray, decide, or show up for others?

2. When I listen closely, what invitations from God feel like they are quietly emerging beneath the noise of expectations?

3. What difference do I notice in my heart when I respond to expectations compared to when I respond to invitations?

4^th Conference: God Walking with Me

Peter: A Life of Transitions

God Sending Me

Peter’s life is one of Scripture’s clearest portraits of a person continually reshaped by God through seasons of transition. Like Ruth, Jacob, and Mary, Peter receives invitations one at a time, never the full roadmap. Each invitation leads him into a new chapter of identity, mission, and trust. His story mirrors the movements of transition: letting go, entering the messy middle, and embracing a new beginning. Through each movement, God is quietly preparing him to be sent.

1. The First Ending – Leaving the Nets Behind

Peter’s journey begins with a disruption. Jesus steps into his ordinary workday on the shores of Galilee and invites him into something he cannot yet imagine: Follow me. Peter’s first transition is an ending. He leaves behind his nets, his livelihood, and the identity he has known his entire life.

Every genuine transition begins with an ending, something familiar being released. Peter must let go of the world he has built in order to receive the world God is building in him. His yes is simple, but it sets everything else in motion.

2. The Messy Middle – Learning Who He Is Not

Peter’s middle season is long, uncomfortable, and transformative. He is bold, impulsive, and often wrong. He sinks while walking on water. He misunderstands Jesus’ mission. He promises faithfulness he cannot sustain. He denies the Lord he loves.

This is Peter’s neutral zone, the place where the old identity has ended but the new one has not yet taken shape. This is the uncomfortable space of uncertainty where God may be doing some of the deepest work. Peter is being stripped of illusions about himself, about discipleship, and about control. He is learning that he cannot become the person God is calling him to be through effort alone. Grace must reshape him.

3. The Turning Point – A New Beginning on the Shore

After the Resurrection, Jesus meets Peter again by the water, the same place where the first invitation began. Peter has returned to fishing, perhaps unsure of his future. Jesus does not scold him. Instead, he asks a question that opens a new beginning: Do you love me?

Peter’s new season does not begin with competence. It begins with love. Jesus entrusts him with a mission, Feed my sheep, that Peter could never have earned. A beginning is not simply starting something new externally. It requires an inner commitment to the new reality. Peter receives a new identity: shepherd, leader, servant.

4. God Sending Peter – A Life That Expands Beyond His Imagination

The final movement of Peter’s transitions is mission. God sends him into places he never expected, preaching at Pentecost, healing the sick, entering Gentile homes, and eventually giving his life in Rome. Each step is another invitation, another transition, another yes.

Peter’s life teaches that God does not simply change our circumstances. God changes us so that we can be sent. His story becomes a living illustration of the retreat’s central question:

Where is God inviting me, and where is God sending me now?

From the Height of Power to the Cross

Ten years ago, my life looked very different. I was in my mid-fifties and at what felt like the height of my professional and community life. I was a General Manager for the largest steel company in the world, responsible for the profit and loss of a $25 million division. I was active in Rotary and community organizations, played competitive tennis, served on nonprofit boards, and knew many of the business and civic leaders in my community. At the same time, I was Director of Formation for the permanent diaconate, working closely with leaders of the Diocese. The trajectory of my life seemed clear: continue succeeding, become a seasoned community leader, and eventually glide toward retirement. But God had other transitions in mind.

1. The Things I Loved Became the Things I Had to Release

When I became Director of the Catholic Conference Center, I discovered a work I loved even more. Slowly, almost without realizing it, I began giving up other activities. There was less time for Rotary. Less tennis. Fewer community commitments. One by one, the things that had once given me purpose and identity began to fall away.

At first, I simply thought I was making room for a new and more important love. But looking back, I see something deeper. Some of these loves had also become attachments. They helped define who I was. They gave me recognition, purpose, and a sense of importance.

Then, after six years, I was asked to let go of the Catholic Conference Center too.

2. God Was Slowly Reducing My Grip

The transitions did not happen all at once. God seemed to be loosening my grip gradually. First one attachment, then another. Each time something was released, there was more space, mentally, physically, and spiritually.

I had once imagined that spiritual freedom meant finding the perfect place where everything fit together. Instead, I began to discover that freedom sometimes comes through losing the things we thought we needed.

My spiritual director and the Spiritual Exercises of Saint Ignatius helped me see this more clearly. Ignatius continually calls us to place ourselves under the banner of Christ. The question becomes less, What do I want to accomplish? and more, Where is Christ leading me?

3. A New Life Began to Take Shape

What is remarkable is that God did not leave an empty space.

Today, I drive a bus for people experiencing homelessness. Ten years ago, I could never have imagined that being part of my life. Who says God doesn’t have a sense of humor?

I am now a certified spiritual director, something I was not even considering ten years ago. Spiritual direction fills much of my week. I teach at a Catholic university, something else I never imagined possible. I write. I lead retreats. I work with people who are trying to listen more deeply to God.

The life I have today was not part of my carefully constructed plan. Yet somehow, it has become deeply aligned with who I believe God has called me to be.

4. Becoming More Like Christ

For a time, it seemed as though everything had finally come together. Each day, I would pray an Examen and ask to become the eyes of Christ, the hands of Christ, the words of Christ, and the heart of Christ.

My ministry seemed increasingly connected to the ministry of Jesus. Spiritual direction involved healing and helping people encounter God’s love. My work with people experiencing homelessness allowed me to bring good news to the poor. Teaching and writing gave me opportunities to share what I had learned about prayer.

My life once again looked ordered. It felt as though I had finally found my mission.

Then came cancer.

5. The Cross Did Not Fit the Narrative

The diagnosis did not fit the story I had constructed about my life. I was healthy. I exercised. I took no medications. There was no family history that I knew of. On the surface, I expected to have many healthy years ahead.

My first response was emotional wrestling. I was afraid. I was angry. At times, I wanted to quit. I cried out to God, Why now? Everything was finally coming together. Why would You interrupt the good work I am doing?

Then I began to see the Gospel differently.

Jesus spent his public ministry healing, teaching, preaching, and bringing good news to the poor. Yet throughout that ministry, Jesus was also journeying toward Jerusalem. The Cross was always on the horizon.

6. The Cross Becomes Part of the Journey

That realization has changed the way I see my own future.

The possibility of suffering does not erase the meaning of my life or ministry. In a strange way, it may draw me even more deeply into the life of Christ. Jesus did not stop healing and loving because the Cross was ahead. The Cross gave even greater meaning to everything that came before it.

I do not know what lies ahead for me. I hope the difficult treatments remain many years away. But I am learning that a life aligned with Christ includes both ministry and mystery, joy and suffering, healing and the Cross.

The transitions of my life have repeatedly taught me that God’s plan has been much different from mine. And, so far, much more interesting.

How can I allow God to accompany me in the next season. Discussion Questions

1. Where in my life do I sense God inviting me to step outward, even if I do not yet feel fully ready or confident?

2. What gifts, experiences, or wounds from earlier seasons might God be shaping into something that can bless others now?

3. If I imagine Jesus asking me, as he asked Peter, Do you love me, what might that love be inviting me to do next?

Meditation: For everything there is a season

3 For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:

²a time to be born, and a time to die;
a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;
³a time to kill, and a time to heal;
a time to break down, and a time to build up;
⁴a time to weep, and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
⁵a time to throw away stones, and a time to gather stones together;
a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
⁶a time to seek, and a time to lose;
a time to keep, and a time to throw away;
⁷a time to tear, and a time to sew;
a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
⁸a time to love, and a time to hate;
a time for war, and a time for peace. Ecclesiastes

Tonight, we begin this retreat by acknowledging something we all know to be true: Life changes. We move through seasons. There are seasons we would gladly live again. Seasons of joy, love, accomplishment, and growth. And there are seasons we would rather forget. Seasons of loss, confusion, disappointment, illness, and uncertainty.

Sometimes we recognize a season while we are living it. Often, we do not. We only look back years later and realize, That was a turning point. Something was ending. Something new was beginning. God was doing something in me that I could not yet understand.

The writer of Ecclesiastes understood this. For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven. Tonight, I invite you simply to listen. You do not need to analyze these words. You do not need to figure anything out. Let the words call to mind the seasons of your own life. Perhaps one line will touch a particular memory.

A time to be born, and a time to die. Perhaps you remember a beginning. Or a goodbye.
A time to weep, and a time to laugh. Perhaps a season of sorrow comes to mind. Or a season of joy.
A time to break down, and a time to build up. Perhaps you can see something in your life that had to fall apart before something new could be built.
A time to seek, and a time to lose. Perhaps you are still seeking. Perhaps you have experienced loss. A time to keep silence, and a time to speak.

As I slowly read these words, allow your life to pass gently before you. Do not judge any season. Do not wish you could go back and change it. Simply notice. Remember. And perhaps, somewhere within all those seasons, ask quietly: Lord, where were You? I will read the passage slowly, leaving silence between each pair of seasons. Listen not only to the words of Ecclesiastes. Listen to the story of your own life.

Scripture Verses on New Seasons

“See, I am doing a new thing.” (Isaiah 43:19)

“For I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord.” (Jeremiah 29:11)

“Let the favor of the Lord our God be upon us.” (Psalm 90:17)

“Those who hope in the Lord shall renew their strength.” (Isaiah 40:31)

“If anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation.” (2 Corinthians 5:17)

“He who began a good work in you will bring it to completion.” (Philippians 1:6)

“His mercies are new every morning.” (Lamentations 3:22–23)

“Be strong and courageous… for the Lord your God is with you.” (Joshua 1:9)

“I will instruct you and teach you the way you should go.” (Psalm 32:8)

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart… and he will make straight your paths.” (Proverbs 3:5–6)

“You shall go out in joy and be led forth in peace.” (Isaiah 55:12)

“The Lord will watch over your coming and going.” (Psalm 121:8)

“Behold, I make all things new.” (Revelation 21:5)

“Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a wise heart.” (Psalm 90:12)

“The Lord will fight for you, and you have only to keep still.” (Exodus 14:14)

“Commit your way to the Lord; trust in him, and he will act.” (Psalm 37:5)

“Make me to know your ways, O Lord; teach me your paths.” (Psalm 25:4)

“Behold, God is my salvation; I will trust, and will not be afraid.” (Isaiah 12:2)

“In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths.” (Proverbs 3:6)

“My presence will go with you, and I will give you rest.” (Exodus 33:14)

“The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.” (Psalm 23:1)

“The Lord is faithful; he will strengthen you and guard you.” (2 Thessalonians 3:3)

Are You Living to Fulfill Expectations or Living to
Answer God’s Invitation?

A reflection for discerning the difference between pressure and freedom

Living to Fulfill Expectations	Living to Answer God’s Invitations
Pressure	Freedom
Rigid & unrelenting	Welcoming and encouraging
Inflexible	Brings my uniqueness to the table
Unrealistic	Entered into one step at a time
Often unreachable	Embraces you from the first moment
Not led by the Spirit of God	Led by love from Jesus’ Heart
Impersonal and isolating	Leads to relationship with others and God
Focused on results or goals	Focused on the moment and the journey
About accomplishing or proving	About entering in and encountering
About completing	About living
Having to do	Getting to do
Fear & anxiety	Peace born of freedom
Comes from self or others	Comes from the Lord
Shrinks your heart, dreams, wishes	Feeds your heart’s seeking and desire
Often leaves God behind	Requires staying with Jesus
Self or other willed	Responding to the will of God
Seeks approval	Claims the truth of being approved and desired
Closed minded	Open to accept results and see how things unfold

A simple question for prayer: Where am I living from pressure, and where is the Lord inviting me into freedom?