Someone told me recently, “Father, it’s almost May… don’t you think you should take down your Christmas decorations? I’ve got two hours—I’ll help you.” I replied, “I was waiting for Christmas in July, but okay…” It’s easy to be offended when we are called out. But the real question is whether the words are meant to cut us down or build us up. They didn’t say, “Father, you’re lazy—take them down.” They said, “Father, it needs to be done—let me help you.” That is the spirit of today’s reading from Acts. Peter’s words cut them to the heart because he says of Jesus: “You crucified Him.” Our sin put Him there. But Peter does not leave them in shame. He says, “Repent and be baptized.” His words are not meant to destroy, but to heal. The same is true of the Gospel. Sometimes the truth cuts us to the heart—but only so healing can begin. Jesus is the divine surgeon who cuts in order to cure. In today’s Mass we meet Jesus the Victim and Jesus the Gate. He is the Victim because of our sin. Every nail, every wound, is mine and yours. When we look at the cross, we see the cost of sin. But He is also the Gate, because from His wounds flows mercy. The heart we pierced has become the doorway to life. Through Him we pass from death to life, from sin to freedom, and receive life in abundance. So what must we do? The same answer given in Acts: repent and begin again. Turn away from sin. Be made new. Lay down the old life and receive the new. And this is not only once. Every day is a call to conversion. Every day we begin again. The Gospel may cut you to the heart—but that is where healing begins. Enter through the Gate, and let the Divine Physician make you new.

Today’s Gospel reminds us to let Jesus take the Lead. I’m not sure that we can, from this bird’s-eye view two thousand years later, fully appreciate the scene unfolding between Jesus and John the Baptist in the Jordan River. John is a man who always follows God’s prompting. In the desert he announces the coming of Christ. He tells his own disciples that he is not worthy even to untie Jesus’ sandals. And now he is asked to do the unthinkable—to baptize Jesus Himself. Then the heavens open, and the voice of the Father speaks: “This is my beloved Son. Listen to him.” Jesus deliberately takes the lower place. He steps into line with sinners. He identifies Himself with those who need repentance, in order to meet them exactly where they are. And only then does heaven reveal His glory and command the crowd to follow Him. This reveals a profound truth about the life of Jesus. We first saw Him in a manger, identifying with the lowly, and yet summoning kings, shepherds, and angels to worship His glory. Now He walks among sinners as one of them, not to remain there, but to show them the way to glory. Here is the lesson: the art of the Christian life — for each baptized Christian — is learning to let God take the lead. We become real disciples only when we learn how to follow the Lord. But if God is in the lead, then I am not—and that is where our resistance begins. We worry that if God’s plans are not our plans, then we will lose our freedom. What will become of us? What will life look like? We want a say in what happens to us and for us. So instead of listening, we try to take charge. We say, Bless my plans. Support my timing. Endorse my priorities. And yet St. Thomas Aquinas reminds us that grace does not destroy our freedom—it perfects it. God’s leadership does not diminish us; it heals us. If we are honest, we have been in charge for quite some time—and we are still broken, still discouraged, still struggling with sin and vice. We act as though handing our life over to God is like giving a teenager with a learner’s permit the keys to an expensive sports car. We hesitate. And yet every time we insist on control, every time we try to lead, we go astray anyway. We wander. We crash.

It was a difficult day at work, yet my blessing was the grace to offer every moment to God. After 11:30, I placed my entire day in His care. Psalm 27:1: "The LORD is my light and my salvation—whom shall I fear? The LORD is the stronghold of my life—of whom shall I be afraid?".