The central message of Jesus during His earthly ministry was the salvation of souls and the conversion of hearts and minds. That was it. Everything He said and did pointed to this truth—His core mission. Jesus came to redeem individual hearts.
It’s no wonder He said of John the Baptist, “Among those born of women there has not risen anyone greater” (Matthew 11:11). John’s proclamation—”Repent and believe” (Mark 1:4; Luke 3:3)—was the same message Jesus brought. Whether Jesus encountered Mary Magdalene (a woman of ill repute who converted), Martha, Lazarus (a wealthy man), Nicodemus (the Pharisee who came by night), the disciples on the road to Emmaus, the Roman centurion, Zacchaeus in the sycamore tree, Jairus, or simple fishermen like Peter and John—His mission was always the same: to transform hearts and shape minds for discipleship.
He had no other agenda. No philosophical musings. No political maneuvering. Only the straightforward call to amend one’s life and see the world through the lens of the Kingdom of God. Jesus revealed a new way of living, one that gave purpose to human existence.
Today, we have largely lost sight of this core mission. One major reason is that technology and entertainment—often indistinguishable—dominate nearly every aspect of our lives. While technological advancements have brought many benefits, they have also become a scourge on society and a nightmare for parents.
In Jesus’ time, the most pressing social and political issue in Israel was Roman occupation. No other topic compared in influence on daily life. To put it in perspective, imagine a foreign military—Russian, Chinese, or otherwise—stationed outside your home, demanding taxes and obedience to their laws while asserting control over your life.
At one-point, religious leaders tried to trap Jesus with a question about paying taxes to Caesar, hoping to incite trouble. Mark’s Gospel recounts:
“Is it lawful to pay taxes to Caesar or not? Should we pay or should we not?” But knowing their hypocrisy, He said to them, “Why put Me to the test? Bring Me a denarius and let Me look at it.” And they brought one. And He said to them, “Whose image and inscription is this?” They said to Him, “Caesar’s.” Jesus said to them, “Render to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, and to God the things that are God’s.” And they marveled at Him. (Mark 12:14–17)
In addressing the most volatile issue of His time, Jesus offered a concise, powerful, and disarming reply. He refused to be drawn into partisan debates. He wasn’t concerned with earthly power. His focus was singular: He wanted their hearts—their very lives.
Jesus pierced stereotypes and cut through pretense. His truth spoke directly to the mind, heart, and soul. An encounter with Jesus required a response. After meeting Him, a person could no longer sit on the fence. Conversion demands a decision.
Without a true transformation of thought, habits, and life, lasting change is impossible. Jesus changed the world by investing in twelve men and countless others over a three-year public ministry. He taught and formed them in everyday life—in the heat of the day, around fires at night. There were no lectures in Greek philosophy. There was only the Gospel: repent, believe, follow.
Social movements often attempt to change the world through coercion, even as their leaders lack integrity. Revolutionaries are unwilling to surrender their will to what God is asking. Surrender is what makes a person a disciple. But when a soul is genuinely transformed—when holiness becomes visible—it sparks curiosity and inspires others to seek the same. The human soul yearns for the transcendent, something only God can provide. This longing has always been central to the teaching of the saints.
Sadly, in the latter half of the 20th century, and even more so today, this message has been buried under an avalanche of distraction. The art of discipleship—of investing deeply in another soul—has been nearly lost due to the rise of digital media. Few remain grounded in the basics of the faith.
For over two decades now, social media has consumed the time and attention of billions. Everywhere you go, people’s faces are glued to screens. The average American spends over 2.5 hours per day on social media, not counting television, work-related screen time, or streaming services like Netflix and Amazon Prime. Including all devices and platforms, data shows people spend over 7 hours a day in front of screens. On average, Americans check their phones 159 times a day.
Countless believers are hooked on content—podcasts, YouTube channels, TikTok feeds—subscribed to dozens of creators and flooded with constant updates. As Jesus warned about money, it is not the thing itself, but our disordered attachment that leads to ruin. The same principle applies here. If we are drawn to our devices, the key is perspective and balance.
The internet offers access to knowledge, and that can be good—but without discipline, it overwhelms. The political climate, the state of the Church, and our broader cultural anxieties make it easy to drown in headlines, hot takes, and speculation. I confess—I am not immune. Mea culpa.
Contrast this with the foundational practices of the Catholic faith, which are often neglected ссылка:
- Daily Mass (when possible)
- Eucharistic Adoration
- Regular Confession
- Scripture study
- Daily Rosary
- Quiet prayer
- Fellowship with like-minded believers
- Acts of mercy and service
If these are absent from a person’s life, we need not look far for the reason culture is collapsing. Where God is honored, societies thrive. Where God is rejected, they decay. When the U.S. Supreme Court removed prayer and the Bible from public classrooms in 1962–63, our national trajectory changed. We chose to turn our backs on God, and—being the gentleman He is—He allowed it.
Discipleship begins with friendship. And yet, this too has been eroded by digital culture. Real relationships take time, listening, and presence. When someone knows you truly care, your words begin to carry weight. But if our time is devoured by media, there is no time left to give.
In the end, it is silence in prayer that will sustain us. That is where we find direction, peace, and courage in these turbulent times. Nothing else will suffice. The storm is here, but the ancient pillars of the faith—tested through the centuries—remain our firm foundation and our path to salvation.