Daily Office Reflection for Thursday, October 29, 2026
Psalms 70, 71, and 74; Sirach 44:1–15; Revelation 16:12–21; Luke 13:18–30
Some mornings, my prayer is simply, “Lord, help me.”
There are wounds I cannot heal by myself, questions I cannot answer, and troubles I cannot put right. Psalm 70 gives me permission to bring that urgency to God. Faith can cry out for help without first finding polished words.
But as I read today’s lessons, I also recognize something else: God has already been answering that prayer in my life. Slowly, sometimes almost unnoticed, grace has been changing me.
The kingdom of God is already growing in me.
Jesus compares God’s kingdom to a mustard seed that grows into a tree and to yeast that a woman mixes into flour. Both begin quietly. Both bring change beyond what their small beginnings suggest.
I recognize that pattern in my own spiritual journey.
I have known fear—the fear of rejection, of failure, of not being accepted or loved. There have been times when I struggled to trust myself or allow someone else to draw close. Healing has come through prayer, through learning, and through relationships in which I have experienced patience and kindness.
I am still learning. Yet I can see growth. I am learning to share my feelings, listen, and discern what is true and loving.
This is part of what I understand by theosis: God’s grace gradually transforming us into a fuller participation in the life and love of God. Like yeast working through dough, that grace reaches into the whole person.
The kingdom is here now, wherever God’s love takes root and begins to shape how we live. Its presence within us becomes visible in how we treat others.
Psalm 70 asks God to hurry. Psalm 71 brings that need into the experience of a whole lifetime.
Growing older gives those words a particular meaning for me. I can look back on troubles, losses, wrong turns, and unexpected beginnings. I can also recognize grace that I did not fully understand at the time.
The psalmist remembers God’s faithfulness while asking for continued help. He hopes to tell another generation about God’s power.
I understand that desire. It is one reason I write. I want to bear witness to the grace I have encountered along the way, including in the places where my life was wounded or confused.
There is still something to receive, something to learn, and something to share.
Psalm 74 widens the prayer. The sanctuary lies devastated, and the people ask why and how long. Their questions remind me that faith has room for communal grief as well as personal sorrow. We can look honestly at what has been broken and bring that pain to God.
Sirach invites us to remember those who came before us. Some became widely known; others left goodness behind without lasting public recognition.
I think of Moses the Black, Aelred of Rievaulx, and St. Francis. I also think of Toy Holifield, my mother, Laura Belle Barnard, and so many others whose lives have influenced mine.
Some I have encountered through books. Others I knew personally. Their words and examples continue to teach me.
Remembering them helps me understand how the kingdom grows across generations. A person offers wisdom, kindness, courage, or love. Someone receives it and carries it into another relationship. The influence reaches further than its source could have imagined.
I give thanks for those who helped plant seeds in me. I hope something of the goodness I received will continue through the way I live.
Revelation’s images are difficult. Today’s passage brings deception, rulers gathering for battle, and terrifying destruction.
I do not read these images as a literal timetable. I understand them as portraying, among other things, a destructive process that can unfold over time. Greed, violence, deception, and the abuse of creation accumulate. Our choices damage the relationships and systems that sustain life.
To my mind, explaining the physical causes of destruction does not remove its spiritual meaning. Human choices have consequences within the creation God entrusted to our care. I hear in Revelation an urgent call to repentance.
That does not mean the people who suffer most are the people most to blame. Often, the vulnerable bear the heaviest burdens of other people’s decisions. Faithfulness calls us to protect and accompany them.
But Revelation does not end with devastation. Beyond today’s passage, its vision opens toward a new heaven and a new earth, the New Jerusalem, and God dwelling among the people. Its final hope includes tears wiped away and the healing of the nations.
The victory belongs to God, who created everything.
I can take the danger seriously without surrendering to despair. I believe in the possibility of a new beginning because I have experienced something of renewal in my own life.
Jesus’ words about the narrow door call me to respond. Familiarity with religious language and activity cannot substitute for allowing grace to change how I live.
Repentance is a continuing turning toward God. It asks something of me today.
And the passage opens toward a remarkable welcome: people coming from east and west, north and south, to sit at God’s table. That challenges me to consider whom I am willing to welcome.
The kingdom growing within me must make room for my neighbor.
Over time, my prayer has become:
Lord Jesus Christ, heal what is wounded in me. Teach me to see with compassion, to speak with love, to hear with wisdom, and to discern what is true and loving. Teach me to welcome.
I am learning to carry that prayer into ordinary encounters.
When I feel hurt, will I speak with love? When someone tells me their story, will I listen with wisdom? When fear rises, will I pause to discern? When someone unfamiliar comes near, will I make room?
I do not always do these things well. I keep praying because I still need healing, and because I trust that grace continues its work.
This is how I understand the kingdom as already here and still to come. I can recognize its beginnings now while longing for its fullness—for myself, for my neighbors, and for all creation.
Today, I can tend the small seed entrusted to me.
Lord Jesus Christ, come quickly to our help. Heal what is wounded in us. Teach us to see with compassion, to speak with love, to hear with wisdom, and to discern what is true and loving. Teach us to welcome. Strengthen us to care for your creation and one another. As we await the fullness of your kingdom, let your love grow through our lives today. Amen.
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