Monday, January 30, 2023

Amy Welborn in Living Faith

                       Amy Welborn is a contributor - five devotions per issue -  to the Living Faith daily devotional quarterly.

Today, January 31:

One of the great temptations I face in the spiritual life is to be centered wholly on myself, my feelings and my sense of peace right now.

But it’s not only about me, is it? I’m part of the Body of Christ, which extends not only space but through time. This verse from the psalmist startles me for that reason. My spiritual responsibility is not only to open myself to the Lord’s presence for my own sake—gulp!—but for the sake of “a people yet to be born.”


\January 8 - Epiphany:

Each Epiphany, I spend time with T. S. Eliot’s poem “The Journey of the Magi.”  It powerfully captures the existential elements of this feast for me: difficulty, challenge, revelation, change. The poem relates, obliquely, the experience of magi traveling to see this Child. Their journey is difficult, and the change that seeing the Child brings is subtle and anything but superficially joyful. They return home, Eliot writes, where things are the way they always have been, where those around them are completely unaware of the light that the magi have seen. We may feel a bit of this after the Christmas season winds down


November 21:

We might struggle sometimes to figure out what unity in the Body of Christ means. There are no simplistic answers, but it seems to me any answer at all begins with acknowledging the fact and the gift that all of us gathered today around the world will be praying the Psalmist’s words, giving voice to the same, shared ancient yearning for wholeness, peace and love.


 October 24:

I wear contact lenses, so when I wake up in the morning, everything beyond my hand in front of my face is a blur. But as that new day begins, I’m blind in another way too, even after I pop my contacts in. I have no idea what’s coming. I may have a sense and I may even have a plan. But really, I don’t know. I’m in the dark.

And so, Jesus meets me as I awaken and asks this same question. What do I want him to do for me as I begin my day’s journey in the dark?


 October 1:

Sitting in our large stone, echo-prone cathedral during Mass, I heard a phone. It wasn’t a full-out ring, but that pulsing, vibrating sound of an almost “silenced” phone. It sounded as if it were coming from across the church. I waited, smirking, for the owner to turn it off. It kept going. 



September 27:

Today is the feast of the great French servant of the poor, St. Vincent de Paul.

There is no lack of charities serving those in need in the world, but Jesus makes clear here the Christian difference: to not see “the poor” as a group “below” those who serve them from on high. No, we’re all one body in Christ, and we’re called to understand ourselves as “the least” simply serving each other, brothers and sisters, out of mutual love and responsibility.



June 30:

This is one of the most telling, revealing moments in the gospel—not about Jesus, but about us.


For how many times has Jesus visited me where I live? In the sacraments, in moments of prayer, in the  love and presence of other people—he’s come to me. He’s healed, taught and revealed the way to real happiness and peace. I know this! I know all about it! And I say I believe it. 



If you would like more of this type of devotional, check out my Catholic Woman's Book of Days. 
amy welborn