I gave him food, I listened to him, I treated him with dignity. And in that moment, I felt God's presence so strongly. 🙏 It was like I was looking directly at Christ in this broken, suffering man.

But then I went home to my comfortable house, my warm bed, my full refrigerator. And I felt sick. 💔 How can I claim to believe in God, to follow Christ, when I'm living in luxury while this man is sleeping on the street?

My priest says that we're meant to help where we can and not feel guilty about our blessings. That God wants us to have good things too. But I don't know if I believe that anymore. Or maybe I do, but I feel like I'm not doing enough with my blessings. Like I'm wasting them on myself. 😞

Jesus didn't have a comfortable house. He didn't have a warm bed. He gave everything away. And I'm sitting here worried about whether my coffee is the right temperature.

I want to live more honestly with my faith. I want my life to actually reflect what I believe. But I don't know if I'm brave enough to do that. 🕯️

What does it really mean to live a faithful life? 🤔