Thursday of 2nd Week of Eastertide
Acts 5:27-33
Jn 3:31-36
“Obedience to God comes before obedience to men…”
The readings for today all converge on a central truth: obedience to God surpasses all human authority, because God alone is the source of truth and life.
In Acts, the Apostles stand before the Sanhedrin, accused of disobedience. Yet, Peter responds with striking clarity: “Obedience to God comes before obedience to men”. This is not rebellion for its own sake, but fidelity rooted inconviction. The Apostles are witnesses to the Resurrection, and they cannot deny what they have seen and received. Their courage flows not from defiance, but from truth. Even in the face of persecution, they remain steadfast, showing that authentic faith demands both witness and sacrifice.
The psalm reinforces this trust. It reminds us that human strength — symbolised by armies or might — cannot save. Instead, “The Lord turns his eyes to the just…” God is portrayed as the true protector and deliverer, the one who sustains life. This invites a shift in perspective: rather than relying on our own control or on worldly assurances, we are called to place our hope in God’s faithful love. Trust becomes an act of surrender.
In the Gospel, St John presents Jesus as the one who comes “from above,” speaking the very words of God. Unlike earthly voices, His testimony is absolute truth. To accept Him is to receive eternal life; to reject Him is to remain outside that life. This passage highlights a decisive choice: to believe is to align ourselves with truth and life itself.
Taken together, the readings challenge us to examine where our allegiance lies. It is easy to conform to societal expectations, avoid discomfort, or remain silent about our faith. Yet, the Apostles remind us that discipleship requires courage. The psalm teaches us to trust beyond visible security. And the Gospel calls us to believe deeply in Christ, who alone reveals the Father.
Ultimately, this is a call to live with integrity — where belief is not hidden but embodied. To obey God above all is not merely a command; it is an invitation into freedom, truth, and life that no human authority can take away.
And yet, living this out is not easy. More often than not, being Christian feels deeply counter-cultural. There are moments when I feel like I am swimming against the relentless tide of secularism. When I speak about Gospel values, the power of the Holy Spirit, surrendering to God, or the quiet yet profound healing found in the Eucharist — simply resting before the Blessed Sacrament — I notice the subtle shifts. Awkward silences. Crooked smiles. Gentle diversions of conversation. Among friends who do not share the faith, and even among those who do but are no longer practising, there is sometimes a quiet discomfort. I can almost feel the unspoken restraint, the effort not to dismiss or roll their eyes.
In truth, it hurts. There is a vulnerability in speaking about something so personal, so sacred, and sensing that it is not fully received. And yet, when I reflect on the Apostles in Acts, I realise that this tension is not new. To belong to Christ is, in some way, to stand apart.
Still, I would not have it any other way.
Like Peter and the Apostles, I feel a quiet but firm conviction: I cannot stop speaking about what I have come to know and experience. Not out of pride, and certainly not because I think I am better than anyone else; but because I have encountered something too beautiful, too life-giving to keep to myself. God’s goodness, love, and mercy are not meant to be hidden.
I remain conscious of the fine line between proselytising and authentic evangelisation. I do not want to impose, but neither do I want to dilute or withhold the truth. My desire is simple: that others, too, may encounter this immense love — that they may come to know the joy of being God’s children by grace.
After all, good things are meant to be shared.
And so, I continue, sometimes hesitantly, sometimes boldly, but always with hope — trusting, as the psalm reminds me, that God sees, God knows, and God will work in ways beyond what I can see, even in those uncomfortable, awkward ‘mic-drop’ moments.
(Today’s OXYGEN by Susanah Cheok)
Prayer: Lord, may those who do not yet know you, and those who know you but have grown cold towards you, be led (back) to your fold. May you allow them to encounter your immeasurable love and mercy in the ordinary moments of their lives. May they be blessed to know that it was you who loved us first. Amen.
Thanksgiving: Thank you, dear Lord, for calling me by name – to know you more, to love you more, and to serve you more. May I always hear your voice, especially amid the din of this noisy, fragmented, temporal world. Amen.
OXYGEN 
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