How to Prepare for Lent with Mary.
Sponsored
Catholic365 is sponsored by
Road to Purity
I am rereading One with Jesus for the third time, and once again, it feels as if I am opening it for the first time.
On page three, these words stopped me:
“Is it not sad to see the benefits of loving God so little appreciated and even entirely unsuspected? The ecstatic love of God is revealed especially in the twofold gift which comprises on the one hand the Incarnation and the Holy Eucharist, and on the other the presence of God in the soul which is sanctified and deified…”
The author continues by saying that while the Incarnation and the Holy Eucharist are relatively known and appreciated, the indwelling presence of God in the soul is “all but non-existent so far as they are concerned.”
And then he asks: who is responsible for this neglect? That question has been echoing in my heart.
As Catholics, we understand the magnitude of the Incarnation — that God became man. We believe in the miracle of the Holy Eucharist — that Jesus is truly present, Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity.
That makes sense to us.
We kneel.
We adore.
We receive.
But the second gift? The presence of God dwelling within the sanctified soul?
That is where awe often fades into abstraction.
Sitting before Him in Adoration, gazing at Our Lord in the monstrance, I found myself overwhelmed by a simple question:
How is it possible?
The God who created the stars.
The God of Moses.
The God of Abraham.
The One who parted seas and formed galaxies.
How can His presence be in me?
And in the quiet, the answer came to my heart:
“Because of My mercy.”
Not because I am worthy.
Not because I have perfected myself.
Not because I have earned it.
Because of His mercy.
And that realization brought me to my knees.
Later that morning, I went for a run. It was still dark. The stars stretched endlessly above me, and the water lay silent and powerful in the distance. The vastness of creation pressed in on me again.
The same question rose up:
How is it that the God who created all of this can dwell in my soul?
The answer was the same — mercy.
His indwelling presence is not sentimental spirituality. It is not poetic imagery. It is a theological reality rooted in Baptism and nourished by grace. When a soul is sanctified, God truly dwells there.
And yet, how little we think about it. How little we live from it. How little awe we carry about it.
Who Is Responsible?
The author asks who is responsible for this loss of appreciation.
It is a difficult question.
Does it begin with priests, who are called to fathom and proclaim these magnificent truths with clarity and conviction?
Does it extend to religious sisters, catechists, parents, and grandparents — those entrusted with forming hearts?
Or is it, uncomfortably, me? you?
We live in a time of renewal, yes. But it is a renewal emerging after tremendous loss. There has been a softening of discipline, a minimalism in formation, a reduction of the spiritual life to “just enough.”
And minimalism breeds minimalism.
Minimal prayer.
Minimal doctrine.
Minimal wonder.
When reverence weakens, awareness of God’s indwelling presence fades. When teaching grows shallow, so does our interior life. When holiness is no longer visibly lived, it becomes harder to imagine.
The spiritual battle is real. Distraction, noise, and comfort dull our hunger for depth. We become satisfied with external practice while remaining strangers to the interior sanctuary of the soul.
What Do We Do About It?
The answer cannot begin with blame.
It must begin with awe.
We must recover silence.
We must return to Adoration.
We must teach clearly and live visibly what we claim to believe.
Priests must preach the grandeur of sanctifying grace.
Parents must speak of God not as an idea, but as a living presence.
We must examine our own souls: Do I live as one who carries God within me?
The indwelling Trinity is not reserved for mystics. It is the inheritance of every baptized Christian living in grace.
Imagine how differently we would speak, move, choose, and love if we truly believed:
God is here.
Not only in the tabernacle.
Not only in heaven.
But within my soul.
Humility Before Mercy
The proper response is not pride — but humility.
Not self-exaltation — but gratitude.
If God dwells in me, it is because of mercy.
If He remains in me, it is because of mercy.
If He calls me deeper, it is because of mercy.
Perhaps the renewal we long for in the Church will not begin with programs, strategies, or structures — but with a restored awareness of this forgotten gift.
The presence of God in the soul.
Let us not be minimal in our wonder.
Let us kneel again in awe.
Let us ask, with childlike amazement:
How is it possible? And let us receive the answer with trembling gratitude: Because of His mercy.
The Rosary Rule of Life is a bold faith-and-fitness movement for Catholic women who are ready to transform their bodies, minds, and souls through the power of prayer and discipline. Rooted in the rhythm of the Rosary, it calls women to embrace holiness, health, and self-mastery — one Hail Mary, one healthy choice at a time. This is more than a diet — it’s a spiritual revolution that unites faith and fitness, courage and community, as women grow stronger in Christ and in themselves.
