When the world feels unstable, what keeps you steady?
See clearly, stand ready, and step forward
By Ron Bruni
Paul calls us children of light. Our identity shapes our behavior. If you know who you are, you know how to live. Alertness here isn't paranoia; it's hopeful awareness. You're watching for God's hand at work, not for threats in every shadow. Pope Francis said, "Spiritual wakefulness is living intentionally, with our eyes open, not drifting through life on autopilot."
Tuesday of the Twenty-Second Week in Ordinary Time
1 Thessalonians 5:1-6, 9-11
Luke 4:31-37
When the world feels unstable, what keeps you steady? Is it your knowledge? Your preparation? Or is it something or someone bigger than yourself that you trust? I've noticed in life, the most unshakable people aren't the ones who have all the answers; instead, they're the ones who know who they belong to. Today's readings come from three different settings: a king under pressure, a young church learning how to live faithfully in a village, and a synagogue in Capernaum witnessing a miracle. Yet, they all carry the same message: confidence in God's presence gives us calm, clarity, and courage whether we're waiting, watching, or walking into the unknown.
Psalm 27 is David's declaration in the middle of life's battles: "The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom should I fear?" First Thessalonians 5 is Paul urging a young, sometimes anxious church: "let us stay alert and sober, encourage one another and build each other up". And in Luke four, Jesus shows exactly why our trust is well-placed, teaching with authority and freeing someone from the grip of evil right there in the synagogue. Together, they reveal a movement: trust in God's presence, readiness in daily life, and confidence in Christ's authority.
Let's look at each of these readings closely. Let's start by talking about 1 Thessalonians. Paul calls us children of light. Our identity shapes our behavior. If you know who you are, you know how to live. Alertness here isn't paranoia; it's hopeful awareness. You're watching for God's hand at work, not for threats in every shadow. Pope Francis said, "Spiritual wakefulness is living intentionally, with our eyes open, not drifting through life on autopilot."
A retired firefighter once told me during a preventive office visit with his granddaughter that their station had a rule: you didn't just keep your gear near your bed; you slept with your boots right there, ready to slip on. The idea was that when the call came, you wouldn't waste time searching for your belongings. Paul's message here is the same spiritually: keep your boots by your bed. Live in a way that if God opens a door, you can walk through it right away.
In Psalm 27, David doesn't say there's nothing scary out there; he's not in denial. But he does say, "The Lord is my light.” Light means clarity. I can see where I'm going. Light means safety; darkness can't trip me up. Light means warmth. God's presence is near. Pope Benedict the 16th once said this Psalm teaches fearless serenity, not because life is calm, but because God's presence is constant.
During one of the many hurricanes passing through Gulfport, a friend of mine once told me about losing power in his house during the storm. He said he didn't panic, not because it wasn't dark and scary, but because he knew exactly where the flashlight was. The darkness didn't change; what changed was knowing where to turn for light. That's David's message here: I know exactly where my light is, and I know exactly who my light is. When we remember that, the darkness loses some of its power over us.
In Luke's gospel, try to imagine what it was like to be sitting in that synagogue. Jesus is teaching with a clarity that surprises everyone, and then suddenly, he confronts evil head-on in a possessed man. It is not a drawn-out battle. One command: "Be silent, come out of him, and it's done." The people are amazed not just at the miracle but at his authority. He doesn't just speak about God's power; he embodies it. John Paul II called this moment a manifesto of the kingdom, announcing that in Christ, oppression of every kind meets its match.
I once read a story about a police officer who, while off duty in a grocery store, witnessed a potentially dangerous situation unfolding. He didn't wait for backup; he calmly stepped in, identified himself, and took control. He didn’t have his uniform on, but still carried the authority of his position. That's Jesus in Luke four, authority doesn't depend on the setting, the crowd, or the approval of others. And the amazing part? He invites us to walk in that same confidence when we're acting in his name.
So our three-step Christian survival guide is:
See Clearly: let God's light define your reality (Psalm 27). When you know where the light is, you're less afraid of the shadows.
Stand Ready: live alert and steady, encouraging others (1 Thessalonians 5). When called to walk alone, keep each other awake to God's presence.
Step Forward: act in the authority and peace of Christ (Luke 4). Jesus doesn't just calm storms; he teaches us to walk through them with Him.
To rephrase the questions which I posed at the beginning of this talk:
Where in your life right now do you most need God's clarity?
What helps you stay spiritually awake?
Where may God be inviting you to step forward in faith this week?
I paraphrase a quote by Vietnamese Buddhist monk Thich Nhat Hanh, made when refugee boats encountered storms or pirates. I thought it was apropos for this talk: "The calmest person in the storm is the one who knows who holds the boat."
These readings remind us that we are people of light, called to stand ready, and we walk under the authority of Christ himself. That's where peace, the real kind, comes from.