Dig Deeper into Sunday’s Gospel: Read Matthew 4:12–23

We live in a world governed by filters. Before we post a photo or share a life update, we crop out the mess, adjust the lighting, and present an image that suggests we have it all together.

Wouldn’t we all love to do the same with our real lives? 

That emotional wound? We’ll just erase that.
The unfolded laundry, the kids’ toys not put away? We are going to blur that in the background.
The wrinkles that keep deepening, the age spots that feel like unwelcome markers of time? We’ll just choose a nice filter to airbrush that stuff out (but don't forget to airbrush the eyelashes on).

Our world demands a culture of perfection: a polished, finished product that needs no fixing, no dusting, no healing; a life that appears ageless, unburdened, and untouched by worry or weakness.

Into this quiet but relentless pressure, we open this Sunday’s gospel from Matthew, and we encounter something startling. It may not leap off the page at first. I’ll admit, it’s a small detail. But it’s one that carries immense weight. 

Let’s take a look.

After the arrest of John the Baptist, we are told that Jesus “withdrew into Galilee; and leaving Nazareth, he went and dwelt in Capernaum by the sea” (Matthew 4:12–13).

Jesus knows John’s death is imminent. He knows His own public mission must now begin. And yet, He does not retreat to the quiet, holy hills of Judea. He does not go to the gold-trimmed courts of the temple in Jerusalem to address scholars and learned men. 

Instead, He intentionally moves into Capernaum.

At the time, Capernaum was a gritty, bustling port town in the region known as the “Galilee of the Gentiles” (Matthew 4:15). Situated on a major trade route, it was a collision of Roman soldiers, Greek merchants, and Jewish laborers. It was loud. It was secular. And to the religious elite of the day, it existed on the periphery—far from where they believed to be the heart of God’s activity. 

And yet, it is precisely here, at the crossroads of cultures, languages, customs, and expectations, that a great light dawns. 

Pope Francis reflected that Jesus chose Capernaum, this Galilee of the Gentiles, this place of mixed cultures and constant noise, to show that His light can reach even the furthest borders of the human heart.[1] No place is too crowded, too complicated, or too compromised for His presence. 

So, I find myself wondering: What are the Galilees and Capernaums that the Lord wants to enter in your life today?

I’m not talking about the carefully curated images or filtered moments that we present to the world. I’m talking about the gritty, the mundane, the heartache. I’m talking about the edges that we crop out, that we want to keep others from seeing. I’m talking about the mess.

Are you living at the crossroads of competing demands for your time and attention? Are the needs of family too high, the pressures of work too heavy, the pain of loss too overwhelming, and the fear of not having enough or not being enough too paralyzing? Are you trying to balance the values of your faith in one hand while in the other managing the anxieties of a world that feels increasingly loud, fractured, and dark? 

It is there, right there at the intersection of “I’ll never be enough,” and “It’s all up to me to fix this.” It is on the side of the road marked, "It hurts too much to hope anymore,” just past “Why can’t I catch a break?” that our Lord chooses to shine His light. 

“The people who sit in darkness have seen a great light, on those dwelling in a land overshadowed by death light has arisen” (Matthew 4:16).

God’s light does not wait for the clouds to clear before it shines. It is the very force that pierces the darkness, that penetrates the clouds, that refuses to be overcome.

By making His home in Capernaum, on the periphery of Galilee, Jesus chose to take up residence in the mess of ordinary life. And the message for us is that no part of our life—no matter how secular, unbalanced, trivial, unholy, or overwhelming it feels—is too remote for His grace. 

So, stop filtering, my friend. Stop cropping. The mess, confusion, and chaos do not scare Him. We don’t need to achieve perfect interior peace or present a flawless exterior before we can truly encounter Him. He meets us where we are, as we are, not as we pretend to be. 

Pope Francis urged us to “return to Galilee” often, to remember the place where Jesus first encountered us, the place of our first call.[2] For the disciples, Simon Peter, Andrew, James, and John, that place was the shoreline where they worked. Jesus found them there, men marked by the salt of the sea and the strain of daily labor. He met Peter and Andrew casting their nets, and He encountered James and John mending theirs.

It is there, in the middle of their ordinary work—one could say their messy, smelly work—that Jesus speaks the words that change everything, “Come after me, and I will make you fishers of men” (Matthew 4:19). It is there, with astonishing immediacy, they leave their boats, their livelihoods, and their familiar securities. They drop their nets and follow Him. 

What appeared to be just another day in a busy port town became, through the light of Christ, the birthplace of our Church. 

Pope Francis emphasized that returning to Galilee means reflecting on our lives from the moment of that first encounter with Christ.[3] When we do, we often discover the “nets” we are still tightly clutching: the net of self-reliance which convinces us everything depends solely on our strength; the net of anxiety, which whispers that if we relinquish control, everything will fall apart; and the net of perfectionism, which insists we must be flawless and all put-together to be worthy of God’s call. 

To follow Jesus in the Capernaum of our modern world is to walk through the busy crossroads of our lives with a heart slowly learning to loosen its grip—to detach from outcomes, appearances, and false securities—and to belong more fully to Him. 

Because, my friend, the light has already dawned; it is shining precisely where we are.

Standing in His light,
Jeannine

Food for thought or journaling …

What does the Capernaum of my life look like right now? How might Jesus already be present there? What net am I still holding, and what would it look like to loosen my grip and trust Christ more deeply this week?

Lord Jesus, You are the Light of the world. Meet me in the unfiltered and imperfect places of my life. Shine Your light into what feels messy, boring, or not enough. Give me the courage to loosen my grip, to trust Your presence, and to follow You. Amen. 

P.S. Our Sunday gospel reading from Matthew highlights how Jesus fulfilled a prophecy from Isaiah: God's light would shine upon the land of Naphtali and Zebulun (Matthew 4:15–16, Isaiah 9:1–2). This is just one of the hundreds of prophecies our Lord fulfilled. In fact, He fulfilled every prophecy. To learn more, check out Lesson 2 from our Bible study, Opening Your Heart, Who is Jesus Christ?

Also, dive deeper into reflection and listen to these songs by one of our favorite Catholic music artists, Sarah Kroger: "Standing in Your Light" and "No Filters." Sarah will lead us in praise and worship at the Walking with Purpose Flourish women's conference this April! 

[1] Pope Francis, “Angelus, 26 January 2014,” Vatican.va, accessed January 12, 2026, https://www.vatican.va/content/francesco/en/angelus/2014/documents/papa-francesco_angelus_20140126.html.
[2] Pope Francis, “Homily of Pope Francis at Easter Vigil, 19 April 2014,” Vatican.va, accessed January 12, 2026, https://www.vatican.va/content/francesco/en/homilies/2014/documents/papa-francesco_20140419_omelia-veglia-pasquale.html.
[3] Ibid.