And while this reflection is not about my personal health and fitness journey, I am continually amazed at the parallels between having a healthy body and a healthy soul—and the lessons that we can take from one to the other.

In this particular instance, the lesson that I have found is that little actions add up.

Specifically, for nutrition. Before I started tracking, I would eat pretty healthy. However, looking back, I notice now how often I’d graze: a couple of cashews here, a few pretzels there, extra bites after dinner, a little snack before bed.

I was underestimating how many times throughout the day I would just have a little nibble of something. And those nibbles add up to be enough to throw you off of your health goals.

You can be eating too much, but don’t think you are.

Now, the parallel for our faith is that we allow little concessions (pun intended).

We let little things slide, thinking that they’re not a big deal.

A little gossip. A little white lie. A little impatience. A little resentment that we don’t let go of. A little compromise here. A little corner cut there.

None of them feel like a big deal in the moment.

But over time, those small bad habits compound.

In the same way that small good habits do.

The question for us is: Which ones do we want to be building and developing?

Let us pray.

Lord, help us cut out the little bad habits that are compounding against us and build the little good habits that compound toward You. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

Keep fighting the good fight. Our Lady of Victory, pray for us.

It’s an odd expression that I learned a while ago and had to look up. I didn’t realize it came from a book, but the idea is this:

If every day you had to eat a frog, you could either waffle and think about it and groan about it and worry about it all day—and then eat the frog at the last minute.

Or you could get up and eat it first thing. And then enjoy the rest of your day.

First things first. Take care of what needs to be taken care of, and then go from there.

The big question is: What frog are we avoiding in our spiritual life?

Is it prayer? Is it confession? Is it a conversation we need to have?

We can spend the whole day—or the whole week, or the whole month—worrying about it, avoiding it, letting it hang over us.

Or we can just eat the frog.

Get it done. First thing.

Let us pray.

Lord, give us the discipline to do first things first. Help us stop avoiding the things we know we should do—especially prayer. Give us the courage we need. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

Keep fighting the good fight. Our Lady of Victory, pray for us.

Like playing golf and having a family. Or, enjoying a beer and staying fit. With the right balance, both can exist in your life.

But then there are other things—things that aren’t “both/and.”

They’re “either/or.”

They can’t coexist. One has to go.

A very stark example: being on a dating app while being married. There’s no balance to strike there. One has to give.

And I would challenge us that there are things in our lives that are more at odds with our faith than we might care to admit.

Not “balance” issues. But “either/or” issues.

Things that can’t coexist with a life of faith—but we’ve been treating them like balance problems instead of incompatibility problems.

Maybe it’s toxic relationships. Or resentment we’ve been nursing. Maybe it’s pornography. Maybe it’s shows, movies, or other content that might as well be pornography.

Maybe it’s something else entirely.

These aren’t things that need balance. These are things that need to be cut out.

Because when two things can’t coexist, something has to give.

And it can’t be your faith.

Let us pray.

Lord, help us to see our lives and our decisions as You see them. Help us to have the courage to make the changes we need to make. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

Keep fighting the good fight. Our Lady of Victory, pray for us.

If you are described as unhinged, it is not a compliment. It’s the equivalent of being off your rocker, off base, out of control.

Funny enough, I was reading a book—written at least a few decades ago, a spiritual book—and they use this phrase “unhinged” in matters of faith.

Not in matters of someone throwing a major fit in a Starbucks. But in matters of the soul.

I like the imagery as it relates to our faith.

Because a hinge on a door becomes the point that the door rotates around. Of course, the door doesn’t swing all the way around, but you get my point.

It is the fulcrum.

And the door can function properly when the hinge is properly installed, properly aligned, and strong.

When that hinge is even just loose, the door does not work the right way. Let alone if the hinge is completely busted off the wall.

The reflection for us is: Are we unhinged in our faith?

Do we let our faith be the center that everything else both draws its strength from, functions from, and works around?

Or have we become unhinged—detached from the very thing that’s supposed to hold us in place?

Let us pray.

Lord, don’t let our faith become loose or detached. Make it the strong center point that everything else in our lives draws from and revolves around. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

Keep fighting the good fight. Our Lady of Victory, pray for us.

It goes something like this:

2 + 2 = 4

But 2 + 2 + God = ?

Now, there’s obviously not a numerical answer.

But I think what we’re getting at here is that introducing God into the equation opens up doors and creates possibilities well beyond what you might call our human reasoning, our human logic, or even just the natural happenings of everyday life.

With God, all things are possible.

The question becomes: Where are we relying on ourselves? And where are we bringing God into it?

Where do we invite God’s rule-transcending presence into our lives?

Five loaves and two fish don’t feed five thousand people. But they did.

A virgin doesn’t conceive. But she did.

Dead men don’t rise. But He did.

2 + 2 + God = something beyond our calculations.

Where are you limiting what’s possible to what you can see, what you can control, what you can calculate?

And where could you invite God in—and watch Him break the equation?

Let us pray.

Lord, help us invite You into the everyday equation of our lives. Show us where we’re limiting what’s possible to what we can control. We put our trust in you. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

Keep fighting the good fight. Our Lady of Victory, pray for us.

items designed and curated to help you slow down and pray a little deeper.

A few people have reached out asking what this actually looks like, so I wanted to show you what was inside our first envelope. Every piece had a theme — Easter — and everything pointed toward the Resurrection.

Doors are currently open if you’d like to join. I’d love to have you.

Join the Pray on Paper Club here

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Here’s what was inside:

A letter setting the tone for everything inside — a reflection on slow prayer and why this club exists.

An excerpt from a homily by St. John Paul II — written for the very first Easter Vigil he celebrated as Pope in 1979. It is a beautiful and unusual piece of writing.

A prayer card featuring an engraving by the 19th century French artist Gustave Doré — the angel at the empty tomb. On the back, the Scripturepassage from Matthew 28 describing that exact moment. Perfect for Lectio Divina. A small card walking you through that ancient method of prayer was included too.

An artprint — also Doré — his rendering of Ezekiel’s vision of the Valley of Dry Bones. One of the great Old Testament prefigurations of the Resurrection. Something to sit with.

A small desk card carrying the words of St. Thomas when the Risen Christ appeared to him: “My Lord and my God.” Short enough to pray a hundred times a day.

An Eternal Stamp sticker — No. 001 — depicting the Risen Christ appearing to Mary Magdalene. A small collector’s piece.

And my favorite part: a real prayer intention from a fellow club member. Someone you have never met, praying for you by name.

See the picture below!

Join today

As I said, doors are currently open as we gear up for the May mailing. Click here to join.

Keep praying,

Mark

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Join the Pray On Paper Club

I apologize for missing some of these reflections. The past month or so has been a bit crazy with work as I’ve made the transition out of full-time employment into my own business.

It’s been exciting, but also some of these reflections get pushed to the margins.

I’m going to work on being better, but thank you for your patience.

I recently came across this idea: it’s worse to commit an injustice than to suffer one.

I don’t know about you, but speaking for myself, suffering an injustice—whether that’s outright hate, or just uncharitable remarks or a misunderstanding—has come up a few times.

It’s important to remember that our goal in life is not to prove ourselves right to everybody. It’s not to escape every single injustice that comes our way.

It’s to be saints. And the saints suffered plenty.

Actually, the thing that made them a saint was how they bore that suffering. Not that they avoided it. But how they responded to it.

With patience. With charity. With forgiveness.

With eyes fixed on Christ, who suffered the greatest injustice of all—and asked the Father to forgive those who inflicted it.

So when we’re on the receiving end of an injustice, we don’t return evil for evil.

We don’t commit an injustice in response to suffering one.

Because that would be worse.

Let us pray.

Lord, when we suffer, help us respond like the saints. Help us keep our eyes fixed on You, who suffered the greatest injustice and responded with love. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

Keep fighting the good fight. Our Lady of Victory, pray for us.

Our qualities, our virtues, and our talents aren’t bad things. They are good things.

It’s when we only see those that our pride, even in our good things, can lead to a godless wasteland.

I think in the spiritual life we can so often take on this individualism. It likely comes from our American culture.

But we focus on what I am doing. What devotions I do. What sacrifices I offer. What prayers I say.

And those, of course, are good things.

But how do we see beyond ourselves?

How do we look outward from a place of humility—to others, to the people in our lives, to God Himself?

The spiritual life isn’t meant to turn us inward. It’s meant to turn us outward.

Toward God. Toward others.

Let us pray.

Lord, don’t let our horizon stop at ourselves. Turn us outward—toward You and toward others. Give us the humility to see beyond ourselves. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

Keep fighting the good fight. Our Lady of Victory, pray for us.

The first might be what you’d call human virtue. Really, just being a decent human being kind of falls into this camp. Pursuing virtue, separate from faith.

And maybe some people stop there.

The next step is adding the faith element. Accepting the theological virtues. Living a life of piety and devotion.

Going to Mass. Saying your prayers. Following the commandments. Doing all the things from a Church perspective.

Even that, I think, is not the full picture.

Because you can be living excellently from a human perspective—virtuous, kind, moral.

And you can be doing all of the things from a Church perspective—attending Mass, saying prayers, practicing devotions.

But those do not necessarily equate to being transformed by the Holy Spirit. To a life of real relationship with Christ.

Virtue and piety can almost seem a little stale. A little mechanical. Now, they are absolutely necessary. Don’t hear me saying otherwise.

But maybe they’re not sufficient.

As we go through our day, go through our week, go through our Easter season, let’s be decent humans. Let us be pious Catholics.

But let’s also be transformed by the Holy Spirit.

Not just virtuous. Not just devout.

Let us pray.

Lord, we want to be transformed by Your Spirit. We want real relationship with You. Don’t let us settle for virtue without life, or piety without love. Make us alive in You. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

Keep fighting the good fight. Our Lady of Victory, pray for us.

Lent was about discipline and denial. Easter is about celebration and joy.

Then the question is: what do we do with those disciplines that we built and embraced? Do we keep them? Or do we let them go?

We don’t continue fasting during Easter in the same way we did during Lent. There is a proper time for fasting and a proper time for feasting.

But that doesn’t mean we throw all discipline to the wind.

Some of what we took on during Lent was meant just for that season—a temporary discipline for a specific purpose.

But some of it was meant to stick. To become part of our lives.

The trick is knowing which is which.

Not everything from Lent needs to carry over. But something should.

In the same way that Lent can take a few days to get going, we don’t have to have these answers the first week of Easter.

But I think it’s something we should be asking ourselves as we go through this season.

What did we learn? What do we want to continue? What carries over?

Let us pray.

Lord, help us discern what You want us to carry forward from Lent. Show us what was meant just for that season and what was meant to become part of our lives. Don’t let us throw away what You’ve taught us. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

Keep fighting the good fight. Our Lady of Victory, pray for us.

But I keep coming back to this: How do we even know that this took place?

Jesus is sent into the praetorium. The Jews don’t follow Him because they’d be unclean.

So who witnessed this conversation? How is it recorded?

I haven’t researched this at all, but my best guess is Romans. Gentiles. Soldiers.

We know the centurion was converted at the foot of the cross. “Truly this was the Son of God.”

Surely that wasn’t the first interaction he observed of our Lord.

Maybe he was there in the praetorium when Jesus said, “My kingdom is not from this world.”

Maybe he watched Jesus refuse to defend Himself.

Maybe he heard Pilate ask, “What is truth?” and saw Jesus stand there in silence.

If you’re reading this, chances are your heart has already been converted.

But we can let the words and actions of our Lord convert our heart again.

We can turn to Him again. Observing again. Listening again. Watching what Jesus does and why.

Not for the first time. But as if for the first time.

Letting Him convert our hearts again.'

Let us pray.

Lord, like the centurion, let us observe You this week. Let Your words and actions speak to our hearts. Convert us again. Turn us to You again. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

Keep fighting the good fight. Our Lady of Victory, pray for us.

Holy Week provides so many rich Scripture passages to sit with, to pray with. They are all so vivid.

One that really caught my attention this time around is the exchange between Pilate and Jesus.

Now technically, this has not happened yet in Holy Week, but I think it’s one we could sit with over the next couple of days.

Pilate surely didn’t understand what was happening.

He didn’t understand what Jesus meant when He said that He was a king.

He didn’t understand what He meant when He said that He was testifying to the truth.

He didn’t understand why He wasn’t even defending Himself.

Pilate stands there, confused, trying to make sense of what’s happening.

And the challenge I have for us is to not fall into the same trap.

Do we understand what Jesus means?

This Holy Week, as we sit with these passages, the question isn’t just: What did Jesus say?

The question is: Do we understand what He’s doing and why?

Let us pray.

Lord, as we walk through Holy Week with You, help us understand. Not just hear the words, but understand what You’re doing and why. Give us eyes to see and hearts to comprehend. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

Keep fighting the good fight. Our Lady of Victory, pray for us.

One that is painful to watch is Judas.

Starting with complaining about wasting the expensive oil, to betraying our Lord, trying to undo it, to committing suicide.

It’s like watching a train wreck and not being able to peel your eyes away. But it also shows something important.

When something goes wrong, there are two paths you can take.

You can repent, humble yourself, and turn away from that path. That’s what Saint Peter does. That’s why he’s an example for the Church.

Or you can take the other path—compounding sin with more sin. Bad decisions with more bad decisions.

Until you get to a point where you ask, “How in the world did I get here?”

A place of such despair and darkness that there seems to be no way out.

That’s Judas.

He betrayed Jesus. That was the sin. But then he doubled down. He despaired. He refused to believe forgiveness was possible.

Peter also betrayed Jesus. Three times. But Peter wept. Peter repented. Peter turned back.

The difference wasn’t that one sin was worse than the other.

The difference was what they did after.

For each of us, wherever we are, we have that opportunity to turn back to our Lord.

So I’ll say: Don’t be Judas in doubling down on sin. Don’t be Judas in refusing to believe forgiveness is possible.

Don’t compound the sin with despair.

Turn back. Repent. Believe that mercy is real.

Be like Peter.

Let us pray.

Lord, when we fall, give us the grace to turn back to You. Help us believe that Your mercy is greater than our sin. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

Keep fighting the good fight. Our Lady of Victory, pray for us.

But one that stands out to me is that the stories we hear from the Gospels are so vivid we can imagine ourselves there.

Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem. Cleansing of the temple. The Last Supper. Our Lord’s passion, death, and resurrection.

These are stories. Events. Moments you can picture.

This week, the final week before Easter, that’s what I would encourage us to do.

If you’re going to Mass, if you’re going to the Triduum—enter into each story.

If you’re not, read the Gospels this week and do the same.

Put yourself into each story.

Stand in the crowd as Jesus enters Jerusalem. Watch Him overturn the tables in the temple. Sit at the Last Supper. Stand at the foot of the cross.

And let your soul be stirred.

Don’t be the bystander who’s looking the other way. Don’t be distracted. Don’t miss what is happening.

But let your soul be stirred.

This is Holy Week. Enter in.

Let us pray.

Lord, as we enter Holy Week, open our eyes to see what You did. Open our hearts to feel the weight of it. Don’t let us be bystanders. Stir our souls. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

Keep fighting the good fight. Our Lady of Victory, pray for us.

Yesterday I talked about the disparity between sin and penance.

It’s a deep topic for a variety of reasons, and I don’t want to mistakenly convey something incorrect about how the sacrament works.

So I wanted to share this quote from Saint John Chrysostom.

Because maybe it’s important to understand where penance falls and what its purpose is.

And I don’t think I need to say anything more than what Saint John Chrysostom has said.

The arrow is removed—that’s forgiveness.

But the wound still needs to heal—that’s penance.

Not to pay back what we owe. Christ already did that.

But to heal what sin has damaged.

Let us pray.

Lord, we thank You for the gift of forgiveness. Give us the patience and faithfulness to complete the penance You’ve given us. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

Keep fighting the good fight. Our Lady of Victory, pray for us.

I encourage you to take advantage of it.

Because as I’ve been reflecting on the sacrament, this image came to mind: The incredible disparity within the sacrament of confession.

What I mean is this.

Our sins, when we think about them, are so great. Severing our relationship with God is so serious, so grave. The separation is terrifying.

And what we’re offered in return as remedy is infinite mercy. Christ’s sacrifice. His redemption.

When we go to the sacrament of confession, we’re given a penance. Usually a few prayers. Sometimes an act of charity or restitution.

And in comparison to our sin—and in comparison to what Christ did for us—our penance is so minuscule.

Now, I’m not saying our penances should be truly back-breaking. That’s not mine to decide.

But I think you couldn’t assign a penance that would be equal to both the devastation of sin and the gift that is Christ’s forgiveness and mercy.

The scales would never balance.

On one side: the weight of our sin, the separation from God, the offense against infinite love.

On the other side: the infinite mercy of God, the sacrifice of the cross, the blood of Christ poured out for us.

And somewhere in the middle: three Hail Marys.

At a very transactional level—and I’m not saying this is why we should do it—but for what you get and for what it costs, there’s nothing else like it.

That’s the disparity. That’s the gift.

Let us pray.

Lord, we thank you for the gift of Your mercy. Help us to humbly come to You, and accept that mercy. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

Keep fighting the good fight. Our Lady of Victory, pray for us.

There’s a lot we could unpack from this Scripture passage.

But when I read it the other day, what stuck out to me was that last line.

I do not fight as if I were shadowboxing.

Now, I’m not a boxer. But shadowboxing serves a purpose. It’s not pointless.

But it’s also not the thing. It’s not the same as fighting.

There’s an element of pretend. Not in a fantastical kind of way, but more like a dress rehearsal.

And I think Saint Paul’s point is this: we are not in practice or the dress rehearsal. We are in the fight.

It is on right now.

So don’t fight as if the enemy can’t punch you back. As if the enemy can’t defeat you. The enemy is not just a shadow or a figment of our imagination.

The enemy is real. The fight is real. The stakes are real.

This is not practice.

The fight is happening now.

Let us pray.

Lord, help us see clearly the realities before us. Help us to wake up, to enter the fight, in whatever way You are calling each of us. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

Keep fighting the good fight. Our Lady of Victory, pray for us.

The Feast of the Holy Forty Martyrs of Sebaste. This is where the name “The Victor’s Crown” comes from.

Here’s the story.

There was a division of the Roman army during the early fourth century when Christianity was outlawed. This division was nicknamed “The Thundering Legion”—some translations say “Armed with Lightning.”

Some legends actually call them the 40 wrestlers because of some connection they had to competing on behalf of the emperor in Roman amphitheaters.

Think of them as the special forces. Known for their bravery and loyalty.

Well, they became Christian. And they were found out.

And they were given a choice: renounce your faith, or stand on a frozen lake until death.

The forty soldiers were marched out to the center of the frozen lake. Meanwhile, guards stood on the shore with fires and tubs of warm water, tempting them to come back and renounce their faith.

Throughout the night, the forty soldiers sang and prayed together.

One of the songs they sang was this:

“Forty soldiers for Thee, O Christ, to win for thee, the victory and from thee, the victor’s crown.”

That’s where this name comes from.

As the story goes, one of the forty succumbed to the temptation. He ran to the shore and jumped into one of the warm baths. He was immediately killed by the shock.

One of the guards on the shore was so inspired that he threw off his uniform, threw off his weapons, and joined them on the lake.

He joined the thirty-nine in their death and in their martyrdom.

“Forty soldiers for Thee, O Christ, to win for thee, the victory and from thee, the victor’s crown.”

Let us pray.

Lord, give us the courage, the faith, the perseverance of Your Holy Forty. Help us fight the good fight, finish the race, and keep the faith. Help us win the victory and the victor’s crown. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

Keep fighting the good fight. Our Lady of Victory, pray for us.

The Feast of the Holy Forty Martyrs of Sebaste. This is where the name “The Victor’s Crown” comes from.

Here’s the story.

There was a division of the Roman army during the early fourth century when Christianity was outlawed. This division was nicknamed “The Thundering Legion”—some translations say “Armed with Lightning.”

Some legends actually call them the 40 wrestlers because of some connection they had to competing on behalf of the emperor in Roman amphitheaters.

Think of them as the special forces. Known for their bravery and loyalty.

Well, they became Christian. And they were found out.

And they were given a choice: renounce your faith, or stand on a frozen lake until death.

The forty soldiers were marched out to the center of the frozen lake. Meanwhile, guards stood on the shore with fires and tubs of warm water, tempting them to come back and renounce their faith.

Throughout the night, the forty soldiers sang and prayed together.

One of the songs they sang was this:

“Forty soldiers for Thee, O Christ, to win for thee, the victory and from thee, the victor’s crown.”

That’s where this name comes from.

As the story goes, one of the forty succumbed to the temptation. He ran to the shore and jumped into one of the warm baths. He was immediately killed by the shock.

One of the guards on the shore was so inspired that he threw off his uniform, threw off his weapons, and joined them on the lake.

He joined the thirty-nine in their death and in their martyrdom.

“Forty soldiers for Thee, O Christ, to win for thee, the victory and from thee, the victor’s crown.”

Let us pray.

Lord, give us the courage, the faith, the perseverance of Your Holy Forty. Help us fight the good fight, finish the race, and keep the faith. Help us win the victory and the victor’s crown. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

Keep fighting the good fight. Our Lady of Victory, pray for us.

I think Saint Francis de Sales’s words are especially helpful for us during this season of Lent and beyond.

Sometimes we are faced with crosses. Sometimes that’s being sick. During Lent, there are more crosses—the ones we choose and the ones we don’t.

But the cross itself is not limited to one thing.

As Saint Francis points out, it’s not just about suffering patiently. It’s about suffering patiently in the way that God wants, with the people that God wants.

This is where I think Lent can be tricky for us to plan from the beginning.

We can be so subjective. So narrow-minded. We choose what sacrifices we make.

We say, “I’ll give up this. I’ll fast on these days. I’ll pray at this time.”

But when our Lord asks us to accept a sacrifice of His choosing—that’s different.

That’s Saint Francis’s point: it’s not just the sacrifice itself. It’s the conditions of it.

The time. The place. Who you’re with. All of those things factor into what we’re offering our Lord.

The particularity matters. Suffering this way. With these people. In these circumstances.

Because that’s when we start accepting the Lent God is actually giving us.

Let us pray.

Lord, when our plans get disrupted, help us see Your plan unfolding. Help us to open our hearts to Your will. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

Keep fighting the good fight. Our Lady of Victory, pray for us.