#the fire doesn't put off light. it only shows you more despair. good God man

[vulpinesaint]

milton's description of hell drives me crazy it's SO good. the classics, sure: fire in the desolate pits of hell, far as the eye can see. but then "from those flames/no light, but rather darkness visible/serv'd only to discover sights of woe..." the fire does not give off light: instead, it only reveals more darkness, more despair, so that even something that could be light and good is made into something that deepens the despair of everything...

[penwieldingdreamer]

Dante's Prayer - A Peaky Blinders Story

It's been a while since I wrote anything regarding the fandoms I used to be active, but thanks to @fortheloveoffanfic I found another one that picked my interest. This is the first part of my Peaky Blinders story, let me know what you think. Like, reblog, comment if you want and let me know if you'd like to be tagged.

Summary:

When the dark wood fell before me And all the paths were overgrown, When the priests of pride say there is no other way I tilled the sorrows of stone.

I did not believe because I could not see Though you came to me in the night, When the dawn seemed forever lost You showed me your love in the light of the stars

- Dante's Prayer by Loreena McKennitt -

Warnings: Mentions of war, mentions of sex, period-typical sexism, canon-typical violence

Words: 1410

Prologue

Outside of Birmingham, 1923

Breathless pants were the only sounds echoing in the silence of the small cottage.

"I missed ya so fookin' much." he mumbled against her back as they tried to catch their breaths and Arthur pulled the sheets over their naked bodies.

Niamh smiled at the sensation of his beard lightly scratching her skin, committing it to memory before he'd leave her again. "It's not my fault, you've been avoiding me."

"I know, I'm sorry." he sighed, running his fingers along the skin of her shoulder and neck. "I'm going to marry Linda."

Swallowing the lump that formed in her throat, the redhead blinked away the tears that were gathering in her eyes, thankful for facing away from the eldest Shelby brother. "I believe this means goodbye then?"

"It doesn't have to be goodbye." Arthur breathed, his lips languidly moving along her spine. "We ain't serious."

Turning her head towards him, Niamh shook her head. "We can't continue this, it was good while it lasted."

"Why not?" he asked, leaning onto his elbow to watch her closely. He had known her since before the war, occasionally having had a tryst under the bridge by the Cut and when he had been drafted he spent three days until his leaving with her, promising to return as the same man that he left but he couldn't keep that promise, just like he never could promise her his heart.

"I'm scared, Arthur." she finally said after a while, her voice vibrating in the quiet air.

Brushing his hair out of his face, he moved his hand closer to her face, his roughened fingers stroking along the column of her throat. "What are you scared of?"

Biting her lip, Niamh put her smaller hand on his own. "Of falling for you, like I'm trying to avoid ever since you have gotten back. You're marrying her and if we continue, you'll only break my heart." Her eyes turned red from the unshed tears she kept at bay the entire time.

"I never promised ye love." Arthur replied gruffly, sitting up on the bed. "I best be going, or else you'd be throwing your heart at me feet."

Pulling the sheets up to her neck, Niamh wordlessly watched him get dressed, feeling the sting of heartbreak in her chest when there had been no love on both ends. Once he had haphazardly thrown on his pants and dress shirt, leaving the vest and suspenders off, Arthur turned one last time, burning the image of his favorite redhead into his mind's eye. Never would he forget the faces she made when he had given her the ecstasy she longed for, knowing he'd not be able to see the same expressions with his soon-to-be-wife.

One last time she watched him nod in goodbye, knowing his head couldn't be turned. The eldest Shelby would have only committed, if - and that was a very big IF - she had been with his child, but Niamh knew how to avoid it as well as he did. Nights in the war could be very cold and lonely so the army had handed out precautions for the soldiers to enjoy their time between the fights. Arthur had told her often enough how his dreams of family and romance had been snuffed out by the brutality of the war, that he would avoid the subject as best as he could, yet here he left her stranded in her cottage by the lake they used to swim in as teenagers, to have a wife and family, probably children along the way.

Arthur climbed inside Tommy's car, taking a deep breath before he screamed out the despair and grief that had been eating away at him ever since he returned from France. Niamh had been a distraction and Linda had given him the hope to get his dreams back, so why did he feel the same sense of loss he had felt when their father had betrayed him and left them again? The noose around his neck was back, tighter than before.

"FUCK!" He hit the steering wheel with such force, that it rattled the whole construction. Arthur needed to let go, he would marry Linda in three weeks and start a new part of his life with her.

“I, Arthur, take thee, Linda, to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth.”

“I, Linda, take thee, Arthur, to be my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and to obey, till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I give thee my troth.”

The eldest Shelby brother gently took her hand and slipped the golden band onto her left ring finger, repeating after the priest. “With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow: In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”

Linda smiled up at him, her eyes so full of love and shining with happiness that he couldn't help but get infected by her. Returning her smile, Arthur leaned in and gently laid his lips on hers. His brothers cheered, albeit forcing themselves to be happy for him and his new wife. She had brought faith back into his life and would help him achieve his dreams of family and fortune.

When he looked up, at the end of the aisle Arthur thought he saw a flash of red before it disappeared again.

Had she come to witness his wedding? Maybe trying to stop it all together?

But no, he had told her goodbye, told her she wasn't the one for him because unlike Linda, Niamh hadn't changed his way. Hadn't made him see the light in this darkness again. At least that was, what he was trying to tell himself, because buried deep down in the pit of his heart there was a small fire burning for the redhead, that would never be put out, no matter how much water he'd use to kill the flames.

"Come on brother, let's celebrate your union." John called, pulling both Linda and him into a tight hug before he joined his wife Esme and their children on the way to the Garrison where Tommy had prepared the reception. At first Linda had protested, having wanted a proper banquet but she was soon overruled when Arthur told her it was easier that way. She'd have to learn that arguing with his brother or even Aunt Polly was never a good way to live in the Shalby family, it would be more peaceful to just concede and try to be happy about it.

"Come on now, luv, let's get some refreshments before we consummate our wedding and really make it official, ey." the eldest Shelby grinned at his wife, leaning down to swiftly brush her lips with his own, before he grabbed her waist and pulled her along to the pub.

Niamh had been planning to avoid the ceremony, knowing that only heartache would follow but she needed to be there to hear his vows and see his actions. Only then could she try to forget Arthur Shalby and move on, just like he did. No thought had been spared for her when he had repeated the words, giving his ring to her and promising a new life.

During the wedding she had wanted to stop them so many times, but when the final words of their vows had been spoken, she knew it was too late. He now was a married man and she, just a girl, a woman he used to know before he found Linda and her faith.

Taking a deep breath, the redhead hastily brushed a stray tear away and grabbed her bag, leaving the church as fast as possible, yet one pair of eyes followed her, always watchful for the happenings around them, knowing fully well that she hadn't just been there by mistake and trying to piece together what the real reason had been behind her short visit in the house of the Lord.

[pomegranate-belle]

Fic or Treat: how about smth based on your post the other day where Foggy doesn't realize he's in love with Matt 'objectively 11/10, anything less is heresy' Murdock? 😂 (it's been DAYS & i'm still thinking abt it so here we are LOL)

So this is somehow simultaneously set before Defenders and after DDS3 idk man, whatever.

Props to @kat8porgs and @thosemintcookies and @letsgetthisblog for helping me come up with some Dudes Hotter Than Matt Murdock, lol

—

Matt Murdock is pretty much the hottest guy on the planet. It’s an objective fact. There’s a lot of times Foggy despairs of this, but he’s never once questioned it; his best friend is a solid 10/10. Probably 11/10 when he does that one really sappy smile that only makes an appearance when he’s completely at ease or super drunk.

Misty Knight does not seem to agree, based on the unimpressed look on her face.

And look, there’s no accounting for taste, but Matt’s on another level. His appeal is undeniably universal. Like, as much as people have teased Foggy about fawning over Matt, it’s not gay or anything. Really. He’s just secure enough in his masculinity to be able to recognize how unfairly smokin’ hot his bff is. It’s a purely platonic observation, and the proof is that everyone else thinks Matt’s hot too.

“He’s not hot,” Misty says flatly, pushing Foggy’s phone back to the center of the cafe table.

It’s got one of Foggy’s best pictures of Matt on it — sitting at his desk in their office, hands scanning over some document or other and a look of intense concentration on his face. The lighting’s just right to show the red in his glasses and highlight his jaw.

“Are you high?” Foggy demands, jabbing a finger at the screen. “Just look at him! He’s beautiful!”

Misty snorts, then puts up her hands when Foggy glares at her.

“Look,” she begins, very obviously and condescendingly humoring him, “I’m not saying he’s ugly or anything, but when you say ‘ungodly man-beauty’ I expect to see some, y’know, ungodly man beauty. This? This is a generic-looking white boy.”

She’s lost it. That’s the only explanation. There’s nothing generic about Matt. Foggy tells her so, and her eyes sharpen a little with interest, though her mouth stays firmly in that ‘oh you poor fool’ smirk. In truth, maybe challenging a headstrong detective isn’t the smartest move; Misty is very perceptive. Not that Foggy has anything to hide. Because he doesn’t. And even if he did, he’s not necessarily known for making smart, rational decisions. Case in point: knocking out mobsters with a baseball bat, associating with someone reckless enough to earn the moniker Daredevil, and dating Marci Stahl not just once but twice.

Misty spins the phone back around and takes a second look, but there’s no dawning realization in her eyes. She shakes her head.

“And you couldn’t have gotten a picture sometime after he remembered how to use a razor?” she asks.

Foggy, of course, is offended on behalf of Matt’s pleasantly stubbly jaw. Matt looks good all the time, but he looks a lot less baby-faced with a little bit of facial hair — Foggy’s not sure whether a full-on beard would work well for Matt, but the stubble looks just right.

“The scruffiness is part of his charm!” he insists.

“He looks like a sad hobo in a business suit,” comes Misty’s totally ruthless reply.

Foggy has to gather his phone to his chest to protect Matt’s picture from such hurtful words.

“Sad hobo? We’re not talking about Rand again, are we? Because I got an earful from Hogarth the last time I suggested someone that rich should get better-fitted suits,” a familiar voice cuts in.

“Marci!” Foggy perks up — at last, a voice of cold, neutral sanity! “You’re finally here!”

Marci rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling with one eyebrow quirked and her arms subtly open — her usual ‘give me a hug’ posture.

“You didn’t think I’d miss a girls’ day out, did you?”

There’s a sudden, unexpected rush of relief and joy through Foggy’s veins as he thinks about their rekindled friendship. No matter how rough their first breakup was or how awkward their second, he’d missed her a lot in the years they weren’t speaking. He slips his phone into his pocket, then folds Marci into a hug.

“It’s good to see you too, Foggy Bear. I hear it’s been a busy month for you. Getting into heated disagreements with law enforcement again?”

As if he does it all the time! Really, it’s just bickering with Brett. And the people on the vigilante task forces. And those guys who’d been hassling Luke. And... Ok, maybe she has a point. Foggy clears his throat.

“Listen, that’s not important. I need you to tell Misty that she’s crazy. She says Matt’s not objectively attractive. But you saw, he had tons of dates in college, obviously all the girls thought he was hot.”

Marci gives Foggy a pitying smile that begins to erode his confidence with stomach-twisting effectiveness.

“Sweetie, the reason Murdock got so many dates was because he was confident but not a sexist jackhole.” She smirks. “Well. And because he was a big slut and everybody knew it. It’s not like there weren’t hotter guys on campus.”

“Name one,” Foggy orders, putting his hands on his hips like his Ma used to whenever he and Theo broke a window with their baseball.

Marci is a known bitch so she begins listing people off on her fingers.

“That guy Wyatt that Jen Walters started dating after you two broke up. The exchange student from Wakanda that quit second year. Eddie Brock on a good day. Sam Wilson every day. Cranston that one time in 2L when he was definitely trying to score with you. Shall I go on?”

“Tried to—” Foggy’s head is spinning, and he loses whatever argument he’d been cooking up about Matt’s hotness relative to these other guys. “Larry Cranston was a straight up dick, he never tried to score with me!”

“He definitely tried to score with you,” insists Marci. “At that post-midterm party first semester. But he’d already insulted Murdock by that point so you’d erased him from your dating pool and didn’t notice.”

“Well— then good riddance,” Foggy decides.

He continues to argue with Marci and Misty both until Karen arrives. Her face tells Foggy she’s somewhere between concerned and amused, but not enough to stop over before she’s got her drink in hand.

“The last time I saw you this fired up you were taking DA Tower to task,” she greets him. “What’s going on?”

“These two—” Foggy gestures at Marci and Misty— “have clearly lost it.”

“You’re the odd one out here,” says Misty.

But if he can get Karen to join his side, he won’t be — it’ll be fifty-fifty again.

“Look, unlike everyone else in this room she actually dated Matt, she’s got to agree with me. He’s objectively super hot, right, Karen?”

Karen blinks. Then she glances out the window and takes a long, awkward slurp of her coffee. Foggy throws his hands in the air. His perception of the world is literally crumbling around him. Or else everyone else has gone nuts.

“Karen, come on!” Foggy all but pleads. “You dated him!”

“Because he was really sweet to me! It’s not like someone has to be Adonis for me to date them, Foggy, I’m not that shallow! I mean, I like how he looks well enough, but he’s not as hot as, I don’t know, Idris Elba or Jason Momoa or somebody.”

She seems unbothered by the assertion. But, the thing is... Well, movie stars are all well and good, Foggy supposes, but they don’t have Matt’s... Matt-ness. That perfect, undefinable, essence-of-Matt thing that accentuates his natural beauty. Foggy doesn’t know how even Karen could have missed it, but Foggy’s got evidence on his side. He thumbs through the photos on his phone again, stopping on one from a couple months ago.

It’s of Matt, obviously. A closer shot, facing him head on. His hair is ruffled, his glasses are off, and there are small, happy little crinkles at the corner of his eyes. His smile is earnest and stunning. There’s a single fading bruise on his jaw. It’s Foggy’s absolute favorite picture of Matt, incontrovertible proof that Matt’s happiness isn’t trapped in rosy memories of the past. Proof that Daredevil is still Matt, still Foggy’s Matt, that the solid core of their friendship was never a lie.

Foggy wasn’t gonna use this — his final resort — because it’s... It’s private, and close to his heart. Matt keeps these smiles hidden, doesn’t show them to just anybody or for just any reason. It makes Foggy feel like he should guard them too. But the others just don’t get it, and Foggy’s determined to make them understand. Squaring his shoulders, he shoves his phone at Misty.

“There!” he snaps. “Ok? Just— just look at that smile and tell me he’s only average!”

Misty accepts the phone and studies the picture on it for a long, long time.

“I’ll give you the smile,” she admits at last, handing it back. “It is a nice one. But it still only bumps him up to 7/10.”

Foggy’s jaw drops.

“That’s ridiculous!”

“It isn’t though, Foggy Bear,” sighs Marci, raking her manicured nails through her hair. “It’s totally reasonable, you just can’t make an objective judgment because you’re literally in love with him.”

Foggy laughs, but it sounds strained and hysterical even to his own ears.

“Of course I’m not in love with him.”

Karen reaches out and squeezes his shoulder with a look on her face that makes Foggy want to scream.

“Foggy...”

“I’m not!”

Because he’s not. He isn’t, he can’t be. He can’t be in love with Matt, because that would suck. Not loving Matt, any idiot would be lucky to do that, but... Matt has a Type. And regardless of what Marci and Misty and Karen say about Matt’s own attractiveness, it’s at least true that the people Matt goes for are always super beautiful women. That being the criteria, Foggy’s a perfect zero out of a hundred. Being in love with Matt would be an exercise in futility, and more than a little pathetic.

“I’m not, I...” Foggy tries again, staring down at the picture of Matt smiling. “I...” His heart squeezes in his chest. “Oh, god, I’m in love with him.”

When Foggy manages to look up, the others are watching him with concern. That seems appropriate, because he himself is also very concerned, beneath the numbness of his shock.

“Oh, Foggy Bear...” Marci sighs. “I’m sorry. I thought you just didn’t want to admit it out loud. I never realized you didn’t actually know.”

Foggy takes a shaky breath, squeezes his eyes shut until he’s sure he’s not gonna start crying.

“This sucks,” he says, trying to make light of it and failing epically when his voice breaks.

Even though she looks the most uncomfortable, Misty is the first to speak.

“Isn’t it better to know?”

“Not even a little,” Foggy says miserably. “Because he won’t— he wouldn’t want...”

“You don’t know that, Foggy,” Karen tells him.

But he does know that. Matt has a Type, and Foggy isn’t it. He shakes his head.

“What... What am I supposed to do now...?”

“Now,” Karen says firmly, grabbing one of his hands and lacing their fingers together, “we go have our girls’ day out.”

It’s Marci’s turn to choose, so Foggy expects to spend the afternoon day-drinking away his feelings. Instead, he ends up at an animal shelter.

Marci does not like dogs, but she’s very partial to kittens, and doesn’t even seem to mind all the fur getting on her designer clothes. Meanwhile, Karen spends her time making goofy cooing noises to a particularly happy pit bull, and Misty plays fetch with an excitable golden retriever.

“It’s just like Danny,” she jokes, startling a laugh out of Foggy for the first time since his unfortunate realization.

For his own part, Foggy plays a little with as many of the animals as he can, but he’s especially fond of an orange tabby that likes to pounce off of high places. Because of course that’s the one that catches his eye, right? Foggy is, he’s beginning to realize, completely hopeless.

Truthfully, though, hanging out with Misty, Karen, Marci, and the animals does manage to do a good job of keeping his mind off the whole Matt Thing entirely — right up until they drop him off at his apartment. Afterwards, well, there’s nothing to distract him. Foggy spends the evening moping, and maybe eats too much ice cream before curling up under the covers and taking an early night.

—

He wakes at what the red numbers on his alarm clock assure him is 3:17am. There’s a rapid, ceaseless knocking on his window. Foggy takes a good five seconds to groan into his pillow and then forces himself to get up.

However, he’s barely climbed out of his bed before he’s tackled back into it. A very familiar idiot in a black mask is pinning him to the sheets, gloved hands on his shoulders, knees bracketing his hips.

“Foggy, Foggy—”

“Matt what the fuck?” Foggy wheezes, because— really, what the fuck?

Matt rips off his mask and throws it somewhere. He’s grinning like an idiot, and even in the low light Foggy can tell that the look in his eyes is tender but exhilarated.

“You’re in love with me?” Matt asks, breathless and giddy.

The combination of those words with that unexpected tone means Foggy has to give his brain a few seconds to reboot before he can reply.

“I. I’m. Yes?”

Matt’s smile becomes somehow more dazzling.

“Good,” he says, like a big dork, and tugs Foggy up into a kiss.

It’s a good kiss. Like, a really good kiss. So good that maybe it takes Foggy a few minutes of really good kissing and one pinch to his own arm to be sure it’s not a dream.

Eventually, probably because it’s literally 3:30 in the freaking morning, Matt flops himself down on Foggy’s chest and his ardor cools into sleepy, catlike nuzzling.

“I love you too,” he offers at last, about fifteen minutes after he really ought to have, still pressing tiny kisses to Foggy’s throat.

Foggy can only laugh and gather him closer, disbelief and joy fizzing in his chest like soda.

“Yeah. I kind of figured.”

—

It’s 8:42 the next morning when Foggy thinks to ask what exactly tipped Matt off about his feelings. Matt’s posture gets cagey and sheepish.

“What?” Foggy asks. “Is it really that bad?”

“Well...”

Matt pulls his cell phone out of his pocket and holds it out for Foggy to take. After some silent prompting, Foggy accepts it and navigates to voicemail amidst the narration of the phone’s screen reader. There’s one message. Cautiously, Foggy clicks play.

“Hey!” Marci’s voice says loudly. “Hey! Answer your phone Murdock, I know you don’t sleep! Fucker.”

She’s pretty clearly drunk. The voicemail only gets more angry and incoherent from there; Foggy’s pretty sure she calls Matt ‘Wal-Mart brand white bread’ at one point, which... Ouch. But she also says a lot of sappy stuff about Foggy deserving the world. And then it returns to the insults when she says that if Matt wasn’t ‘too busy cultivating a greasy Castaway beard’ he would have admitted his ‘stupid, stu— smoof— smooch— schmoopy, that’s the one, schmoopy’ feelings by now because Foggy loves him too and they’re both big idiots making themselves sad for no reason.

“Ah,” Foggy murmurs when the message finally, finally ends. “Well. That’s... Something.”

Matt nods, chokes out a laugh.

“Pretty much,” he agrees.

“Um. I... I’m really sorry about her.”

“No. I, um... I’m glad. You know. That she called,” Matt tells him, and wow that earnest face is too intense for Foggy’s poor weak heart. “I.” Matt straightens his shoulders, takes a deep breath. “I love you.”

“Yeah,” Foggy says wonderingly. “You do, don’t you?”

He can see it now, on Matt’s face — and he suddenly realizes it’s been there a long time, that part of Matt’s indescribable beauty, his Matt-ness, is... Being-in-love-with-Foggy-ness. That Foggy makes Matt as happy as Matt makes him.

“Foggy,” Matt whines, mouth curling down into a slight pout.

“What?” And then it hits him. “Oh! Right. Yeah. I love you too, Matty.”

And like magic, like the flash of sunlight reflecting off glass, it’s back again — Matt’s perfect smile.

[seekfirstme]

The following reflection is courtesy of Don Schwager © 2021. Don's website is located at Dailyscripture.net

Meditation: Who doesn't have debts they need to pay off! And who wouldn't be grateful to have someone release them from their debts? But can we really expect mercy and pardon when we owe someone a great deal? When the people of Israel sinned and rebelled against God, God left them to their own devices until they repented and cried out to him for mercy. The Book of Daniel in the Old Testament recounts the story of Daniel and his three young friends, Hananiah, Mishael, and Azariah, who were sent into exile from Jerusalem to Babylon. When the King of Babylon threw Daniel's three friends into the fiery furnace, they cried out to God to have mercy not only on themselves, but to have mercy upon all his people. "Do not put us to shame, but deal with us in your forbearance and in your abundant mercy" (Daniel 3:19-43).

The prophet Jeremiah reminds us that God's "mercies never come to an end - they are new every morning" (Lamentations 3:22-23). God gives grace to the humble and he shows mercy to those who turn to him for healing and pardon.

We owe God a debt we could never repay

God's mercy towards each one of us shows us the way that God wants each one of us to be merciful towards one another. When Peter posed the question of forgiveness and showing mercy to one's neighbor, he characteristically offered an answer he thought Jesus would be pleased with. Why not forgive your neighbor seven times! How unthinkable for Jesus to counter with the proposition that one must forgive seventy times that. Jesus made it clear that there is no reckonable limit to mercy and pardon. And he drove the lesson home with a parable about two very different kinds of debts. The first man owed an enormous sum of money - millions in our currency. In Jesus' time this amount was greater than the total revenue of a province - more than it would cost to ransom a king! The man who was forgiven such an incredible debt could not, however bring himself to forgive his neighbor a very small debt which was about one- hundred-thousandth of his own debt. The contrast could not have been greater!

Jesus paid the price in full for our guilt and condemnation

Paul the Apostle tells us that "the wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord" (Romans 6:23). There is no way we could repay God the debt we owed him because of our sins and offenses. Only his mercy and pardon could free us from such a debt. There is no offense our neighbor can do to us that can compare with our debt to God! If God has forgiven each of us our own debt, which was very great, we, too must forgive others the debt they owe us.

Jesus ransomed us from slavery to sin and eternal death

Through Jesus' atoning sacrifice for our sins on the cross, we have been forgiven a debt beyond all reckoning. It cost God his very own Son, the Lord Jesus Christ, to ransom us with the price of his blood. Jesus paid the price for us and won for us pardon for our sins and freedom from slavery to our unruly desires and sinful habits. God in his mercy offers us the grace and help of his Holy Spirit so we can love as he loves, pardon as he pardons, and treat others with the same mercy and kindness which he has shown to us.

True peace with God

God has made his peace with us. Have you made your peace with God? If you believe and accept God's love and and pardon for you, then you likewise must choose to be merciful towards those who are in debt to you. Are you ready to forgive and to make peace with your neighbor as God has made peace with you?

"Lord, make me an instrument of your peace. Where there is hatred let me sow love. Where there is injury let me sow pardon. Where there is doubt let me sow faith. Where there is despair let me give hope. Where there is darkness let me give light. Where there is sadness let me give joy. (Prayer of Saint Francis of Assisi, 1181-1226) "

The following reflection is from One Bread, One Body courtesy of Presentation Ministries © 2021.

FIRE AND ICE

“In the fire Azariah stood up and prayed aloud.” —Daniel 3:25

Lent is the imitation of Jesus’ forty days in the desert (Mt 4:1ff). It is a desert experience in which we undergo “a trial by fire” (1 Pt 4:12). In the midst of the flames, we are tempted to grumble against the Lord or blame other people for our trials. We must overcome these temptations and stand up in the fire to pray as Azariah did (Dn 3:25). By faith, we must face the harsh realities of our lives, repent of our sins, and commit ourselves to follow the Lord “unreservedly...with our whole heart” (Dn 3:40-41).

The fire of Lent should result in the commitment of Easter. We must not let trials turn us away from the Lord but rather to Him. “We know that affliction makes for endurance, and endurance for tested virtue, and tested virtue for hope. And this hope will not leave us disappointed, because the love of God has been poured out in our hearts” (Rm 5:3-5).

Therefore, “count it pure joy when you are involved in every sort of trial. Realize that when your faith is tested this makes for endurance. Let endurance come to its perfection so that you may be fully mature and lacking in nothing” (Jas 1:2-4). We thank the Lord for the heat and fire of the desert. It is only through this we can rise from the cold of the grave.

Prayer:  Father, may I stand up in the fire and praise You.

Promise:  “Good and upright is the Lord; thus He shows sinners the way.” —Ps 25:8

Praise:  St. Frances desired to be a nun but her parents selected a young nobleman as her husband. Through God’s providence, her sister-in-law also had a heart for service. Together they helped the poor. She was an exemplary wife, religious sister and mother superior.

Reference:  (The Gospel of Luke is rich with examples of the role women played in the life of Jesus. Explore the dynamic way Jesus interacts with the women in His life. Join us for Women in the Gospel of Luke, a retreat on Mar. 19-20. Call 513-373-2397 or register at www.presentationministries.com.)

Rescript:  "In accord with the Code of Canon Law, I hereby grant the Nihil Obstat for One Bread, One Body covering the period from February 1, 2021 through March 31, 2021. Most Reverend Joseph R. Binzer, Auxiliary Bishop, Vicar General, Archdiocese of Cincinnati, Cincinnati, Ohio March 31, 2020"

The Nihil Obstat ("Permission to Publish") is a declaration that a book or pamphlet is considered to be free of doctrinal or moral error. It is not implied that those who have granted the Nihil Obstat agree with the contents, opinions, or statements