Nothing seasons our lives quite like failure—if we’re willing to view it the right way. When we sit with our mistakes, accept responsibility for them, and refuse to run from the discomfort, something remarkable happens: we grow. Growth that wasn’t accessible before the fall becomes possible. We can rise again, often as a better version of ourselves.

My initial response to the doctrine of the real presence of Christ in the Eucharist was to push back. Growing up in a Southern Baptist tradition, the idea that Christ was truly present in the bread and wine of the Eucharist felt foreign and unnecessary. I had been taught to see Communion as symbolic, a memorial of Christ’s sacrifice rather than a literal participation in His body and blood.

The doctrine of the real presence of Christ in the Eucharist, where Christ is truly present—body, blood, soul, and divinity—has deep roots in scripture. It’s a mystery at the heart of Catholic belief that has been reaffirmed for centuries. Yet, this teaching isn’t just based on tradition or theological interpretation; it finds its support directly in the words of Christ and the writings of the Apostle Paul.

Flavius Josephus is one of the most frequently cited early historians, especially in discussions about the Protestant biblical canon. Understanding who Josephus was is crucial for anyone who wants to grasp the context of his writings. His perspective was shaped not only by the turbulent events of his time but also by his own personal journey, marked by shifting allegiances and practical decisions for survival.

The question of which books should be included in the Bible has been a matter of debate for centuries. For Catholics, the canon includes certain books known as the Deuterocanon, often referred to by Protestants as the “Apocrypha.” While the Protestant tradition typically excludes these books, the Catholic Church has historically embraced them as part of Sacred Scripture. This post will explore the Catholic argument for the canon, tracing the history and reasoning behind the inclusion of these texts, and addressing some common objections.

I recently had a conversation that hit me harder than I expected. Someone who had been deeply hurt by my past mistakes reached out after seeing my blog. They didn’t have kind words. In fact, they told me they thought the entire thing was ridiculous. To make it worse, they said their friends had been texting screenshots of my posts back and forth, laughing about it. Hearing that was like a punch to the gut.

One of the most unsettling stories in the Bible comes from 2 Kings 6. I first heard it as a teenager when our pastor spent nearly a year preaching through 1 and 2 Kings. Normally, my mind would wander during Sunday services, but this story caught my attention due to its scandalous and disturbing nature.

Mark 14:7 says:  

“For you always have the poor with you, and whenever you want, you can do good for them. But you will not always have me.”

This scripture is set within a story of worship. A woman anointed Jesus’ feet with expensive perfume, which prompted others to question if her actions were wasteful. Wouldn’t it have been better to sell the perfume and give the money to the poor? Jesus’ response was clear—there would always be opportunities to serve the poor, but His physical presence with them was temporary.  

John 7:37 reads, "On the last day of the feast, the great day, Jesus stood up and cried out, 'If anyone thirsts, let him come to me and drink.'"

I remember reading this verse and scribbling something down in my journal with frustration: “Why is this not true for me?" I felt far from God, like He had disappeared from my life. My prayers felt hollow, like they were bouncing off the ceiling. "I am thirsty! Where are You?" I cried out, hoping for some sort of answer, but nothing seemed to change.