faith-driven lifestyle
faith-driven lifestyle
Easter Sunday has passed. The tomb is empty. And now the real journey begins — fifty days the Church has always known it takes to grow into resurrection. Born to Recognise is a seven-week Easter season journey through the Sunday readings, following the ancient blessing of the senses from Thomas and the locked room all the way to the fire of Pentecost. For liturgy teams, for parish communities, and for anyone whose body knew something their head hadn't yet caught up with.
One Sunday before Holy Week, we arrive at a tomb. God unhides his tears. The sealed yetzer — the forming impulse that stopped expecting anything — is the theological heart of this Sunday's readings, and it runs from Genesis through Ezekiel, Romans, and John 11. Free resources for the Fifth Sunday of Lent Year A: in-depth biblical background, a near-silent guided stillness for presiders, and intercessions for the forgotten, the imprisoned, the grieving, and the ones who have stopped waiting.
It is Laetare Sunday — the midpoint of Lent, the Sunday of rose vestments and the first glimpse of where all this is going. The Fourth Sunday of Lent Year A readings move the arc of hiding-and-unhiding to its deepest point yet: from wilderness, to face, to well, now to the eyes themselves. God presses clay on a blind man's face and re-enacts Genesis. David the overlooked son is anointed king before he has done anything to deserve it. And Paul tells the Ephesians something that should stop us cold: not that you were in darkness, but that you were darkness — and now you are light. Free resources for liturgy teams, presiders, and anyone preparing for this Sunday.
This Sunday, the readings ask what we are still carrying from our narrow places into the free one. Israel drags its cattle into the wilderness. A woman carries her jar to a well at noon. Paul insists love arrived while we were still helpless. Free liturgical resources for the Third Sunday of Lent, Year A: in-depth biblical background with rabbinic and Kabbalistic keys, a somatic penitential rite built around the I Am exercise, and intercessions for the excluded, the thirsty, and the waters of the earth.
In Exodus 17, Israel quarrels at Horeb — the Dry Place — carrying cattle from Egypt into the wilderness, unable to trust that God will provide. In John 4, a woman carries a water jar to a well at noon, avoiding the gaze of her community. Paul tells the Romans that love was poured out while they were still helpless. The thread connecting all three: the portable Egypt we drag with us into the free place — and the moment we forget to pick it up.
The Second Sunday of Lent moves us from desert to mountain. Last week the question was: where do you hide? This week it becomes: what do you do when the light comes toward you? Free resources for 1 March 2026 include a full biblical background tracing the Transfiguration through Moses, Elijah, and Abraham; a contemplative penitential rite built around God's words of love from Scripture, with space to ask whether you receive them as personally addressed to you; and a Prayer of the Faithful with intercessions for those hiding from the light, managing God's radiance, unable to receive forgiveness, and finding their way back. A personal reflection on the Gospel that brought one person home is coming soon.
Exploring what Sunday Mass can be when a community truly gathers, and providing the liturgical tools to help make it happen. For liturgy teams, priests, and everyone who believes Sunday is not just worth showing up for – it’s the heartbeat of personal and parish life.
Once you've experienced Sunday as a living pulse — as the centre of a community genuinely becoming itself — you can't unfind that hunger. Most of us have attended thousands of Masses and remained, somehow, on the outside of them. Not for lack of faith or desire, but because nobody made room. This is a vision for the Sunday that doesn't leave anyone outside.
Lent 2026 begins with an ancient invitation hidden in the first commandment: nothing between your face and God's. This year, we stop hiding. We begin here.
