Friday of the 23rd Week of Ordinary Time
For if I preach the Good News, I have nothing to boast about, for necessity is laid on me; but woe is to me if I don't preach the Good News. For if I do this of my own will, I have a reward. But if not of my own will, I have a stewardship entrusted to me. What then is my reward? That when I preach the Good News, I may present the Good News of Christ without charge, so as not to abuse my authority in the Good News.
For though I was free from all, I brought myself under bondage to all, that I might gain the more.
To the weak I became as weak, that I might gain the weak. I have become all things to all men, that I may by all means save some. Now I do this for the sake of the Good News, that I may be a joint partaker of it. Don't you know that those who run in a race all run, but one receives the prize? Run like that, so that you may win. Every man who strives in the games exercises self-control in all things. Now they do it to receive a corruptible crown, but we an incorruptible. I therefore run like that, not aimlessly. I fight like that, not beating the air, But I beat my body and bring it into submission, lest by any means, after I have preached to others, I myself should be disqualified.
Yes, the sparrow has found a home, And the swallow a nest for herself, where she may have her young, Near your altars, Lord of Armies, my King, and my God.
Blessed are those who dwell in your house. They are always praising you. Selah.
Blessed are those whose strength is in you, Who have set their hearts on a pilgrimage. Passing through the valley of Weeping, they make it a place of springs. Yes, the autumn rain covers it with blessings.
Lord of Armies, Blessed is the man who trusts in you.
He spoke a parable to them. "Can the blind guide the blind? Won't they both fall into a pit? A disciple is not above his teacher, but everyone when he is fully trained will be like his teacher. Why do you see the speck of chaff that is in your brother's eye, but don't consider the beam that is in your own eye? Or how can you tell your brother, 'Brother, let me remove the speck of chaff that is in your eye,' when you yourself don't see the beam that is in your own eye? You hypocrite! First remove the beam from your own eye, and then you can see clearly to remove the speck of chaff that is in your brother's eye.
There's a kind of honesty in Paul's letter that cuts right through any romanticized notion of what it means to follow a calling. He doesn't say preaching fills him with joy and purpose every single morning. He says he *has* to do it. Woe to him if he doesn't. And yet — and here's where it gets interesting — that compulsion doesn't make him resentful. It makes him free. Free to give without counting the cost, to become whatever is needed for whoever is in front of him.
Notice how that posture connects directly to what Jesus is saying in Luke. Paul can become "all things to all people" precisely because he's done the inner work — he beats his body, he runs with intention, he doesn't drift. He's not pretending to see clearly while a plank blocks his vision. The athlete analogy isn't just motivational language. In the ancient world, athletes at the Greek games trained for years under strict discipline to win a crown made of olive or laurel — leaves that would wither in days. Paul is asking us: what are we training for, and with what seriousness?
The log in the eye from Luke's Gospel is such an earthy, almost comic image — a whole timber, not a splinter. Jesus uses absurdity to make us laugh at ourselves a little, and then to pause. Consider how easy it is to spend enormous energy analyzing what's wrong with a colleague, a family member, a friend, while something much larger goes unexamined in us.
The psalm holds all of this gently. Even the sparrow finds a home near God's altar. We don't have to be perfect to belong. We just have to keep showing up, keep training, keep walking through the valley of weeping until it becomes a place of springs.
What is the "log" you've been too busy to look at? Where are you running aimlessly rather than with purpose? And what would it look like, today, to become a little more free?