Saturday of 7th Week of Eastertide
Acts 28:16-20,30-31
Jn 21:20-25
“…what does it matter to you? You are to follow me.”
How do we respond when we are falsely accused or misunderstood? How do we react when lies, gossip, or half-truths are spread about us or about the people we love? These moments reveal something profound about the state of our hearts.
Not too long ago, if this had happened to me, I would have become completely dysregulated — consumed by anger, resentment, and wounded pride. I would spend days replaying conversations in my head, stunned that anyone could fabricate such malicious stories or place false words in my mouth. Deep within the darkest corners of my heart, something primal and ugly would emerge. I would become like a snarling, spitting wolf, ready to hunt down and devour my accusers through retaliation, bitterness, or cold contempt.
In truth, I would not have been capable of responding as St Paul did in today’s First Reading. Though innocent of wrongdoing, Paul was placed under house arrest, falsely accused and restricted in his freedom. Yet there is no trace of self-pity, vengeance, or outrage in him. Instead, he remains composed, lucid, and inwardly free. He acknowledges the injustice done to him, but refuses to let it consume him. Rather than waste his suffering in bitterness, he transforms confinement into mission: “he welcomed all who came to visit him, proclaiming the kingdom of God and teaching the truth about the Lord Jesus Christ with complete freedom.”
What a radical freedom that is — to refuse to let injury harden the heart.
I realise now that such freedom does not happen overnight. It comes only through continual conversion. Through the Eucharist, Adoration, Scripture, prayer, and faith community, the Lord has slowly been taming the wolf in me. By God’s grace, I no longer feed it as eagerly as I once did. In its place is perhaps now a small, tame puppy — still capable of reacting, still needing training, but increasingly able to let things be.
This does not mean becoming passive, oblivious, or naïve about falsehood. Rather, it means intentionally refusing to let the evil one hook me into cycles of anger, unforgiveness, revenge, and self-righteousness. I am learning that not every accusation requires a defence, and not every misunderstanding needs to be corrected immediately. God knows the truth fully, even when others do not.
Gossip, slander, and malicious curiosity wound deeply because they distort truth and fracture communion. Yet scripture also reminds us that God sees all things rightly, and that His justice alone is perfect. That is why we can surrender our hurt to Him instead of becoming consumed by it.
The Gospel passage from John 21:20–25 also reveals something deeply human in Peter. After hearing about his own future suffering, Peter immediately asks Jesus about the beloved disciple: “What about him, Lord?” It is such a familiar reaction — the impulse to compare, speculate, and concern ourselves with matters that are not ours to know. Peter’s ‘kaypoh’ (aka, ‘busybody’) curiosity reflects something universal in all of us. We often seek answers about others because uncertainty makes us uncomfortable.
But Jesus gently rebukes him: “What does it matter to you? You are to follow me.”
Those words feel deeply personal. So often, I become distracted by what others are saying, doing, or thinking about me. I want vindication. I want clarity. I want control over how I am perceived. Yet Jesus redirects my attention away from the noise and back to discipleship. My task is not to manage everyone’s opinions, nor to obsess over hidden motives or future outcomes. My task is simply to follow Him faithfully.
Ultimately, false accusations, gossip, and misunderstanding become invitations to deeper surrender. They expose the parts of me still hungry for validation, control, and revenge. But they also become opportunities to trust that God alone is omniscient, just, and true. He sees what others cannot see. He knows what remains hidden.
And perhaps that is the quiet freedom the saints possessed: not the absence of suffering or injustice, but the unwavering confidence that the truth rests safely in God’s hands.
(Today’s OXYGEN by Susanah Cheok)
Prayer: Dear Lord, I surrender and offer up all the daily pin-pricks of hurts in my life to you. In your hands, they turn into small graces that will bless those most in need of your love and mercy. So, allow me to join my sufferings with yours on the cross, so that more stray hearts can return to you.
Thanksgiving: Thank you, Jesus, for the challenges I get to face each day, because through them, I also experience your empowering grace, your strength and courage to overcome them and the opportunity to learn from them. But most of all, Lord, thank you for these crosses to bear, because they teach me to need you more and they bring me closer to you.
OXYGEN 
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