Throughout my life, I have had a litany of requests for God. I have asked for mundane and ultimately inconsequential favors and also for guidance in much more important matters. But I have often hesitated to ask for the deepest desires of my heart. Those requests feel too big, too impossible, and possibly too selfish – as though asking these things would take away from God’s ability to provide for others. But in thinking this way, I am putting limits on a limitless God. In today’s first reading, the Lord speaks to Ahaz and tells him to ask for a sign – “let it be deep as the netherworld, or high as the sky!”

One morning, I woke up feeling exhausted after a fitful night of sleep. I was achy and generally under the weather. Despite this, I made a to-do list because the day’s work still needed to be accomplished. I was determined to not let this sickness interrupt my productivity, even though I knew I needed to rest. It occurred to me, then, that rest – and dependence on others and God – is sacred also. In today’s psalm, we hear of the many ways the Lord provides: The Lord gives, the Lord raises, the Lord loves, the Lord protects, the Lord saves.

Today’s Gospel is a challenging one, inviting us to consider how much spiritual fruit we are bearing in our lives. St. John the Baptist tells us, “Produce good fruit as evidence of your repentance,” reminding us that the depth of our conversion will be measured by our fruit. Speaking to the Pharisees and Sadducees, John says it is not enough to say that “‘We have Abraham as our father.’” If he were speaking today, John might put it this way: it’s not enough to say “I’m Catholic!” or “I belong to X Parish.”

For many in the upper latitudes of the northern hemisphere, this is the darkest time of the year, the time when the duration of daylight is at its lowest. It’s providential, then, that our first reading calls us to “walk in the light of the Lord!” Paul tells us that we do this by “throw[ing] off the works of darkness” and “put[ing] on the armor of light.” While we might not struggle with the vices listed in Paul’s Letter to the Romans, each of us has our own struggles against sin.

Since the birth of my oldest child, I have seen and heard many things about what I should do as a mother. I have heard everything from which products I should purchase to how I should help my child develop a healthy sleep routine. But my identity as a mother is not dependent upon any of these things; instead, it rests on my relationship with God as his beloved daughter and who he has called me to be as a mother. Those living at the time of Jesus were also trying to understand his identity as king according to their own expectations of what a king was meant to be.

We don’t have to look far to find grief, violence, or chaos in our world. Perhaps it has made its way into our community or has pierced our hearts in deeply personal ways. Or even if the chaos of life has remained at a distance for now, it can be tempting to wonder if the end is near at times. But Jesus warns us against catastrophic thoughts. Listen to what he says in today’s Gospel, when asked how we will know the end time is coming: “When you hear of wars and insurrections, do not be terrified; for such things must happen first, but it will not immediately be the end.” Jesus knew we would need his clear and steady reminder. If you find yourself fearing the state of the world, turn all your senses toward Jesus. Let your anxiety, grief, and concern become catalysts for prayer.

Although today’s feast marks the dedication of one of the most important churches for Catholics, the Basilica of Saint John Lateran, it’s ultimately not a celebration of a building, but a celebration of all members of the Church. As Paul reminds us, we are “the “temple of God” and the Spirit of God dwells in us. We see in the Gospel that Jesus has immense love for the temple and wishes to protect it. He uses a whip made from cords to drive out the money-changers, telling them, “Stop making my Father’s house a marketplace.” So, too, he loves and cherishes his Body, the Church – the place his presence dwells. Today’s feast invites us to consider our love and zeal for the Church. As our love for the Lord grows, we will grow to love what our Savior loves.

There’s a place in every human heart that harbors the fear of rejection. This can affect our relationship with others as well as our relationship with God. In response, many of us develop coping strategies in an attempt to take control of our lives. When fear of rejection threatens our peace, return to today’s Gospel. What does Jesus say? “I will not reject anyone who comes to me.” Let’s pause to read that line again: I will not reject anyone who comes to me. Allow that message to pierce your heart. Jesus will not reject you. Jesus will not fail you. He will not abandon you. In fact, he has prepared a place for you in his kingdom and is waiting for your response of love.