Some of the most beautiful words St Paul ever wrote are in today’s reading: “If God is for us, who can be against us?
He who did not spare His own Son, but gave Him up for us all—
how will He not also give us everything else besides?”

That’s the sound of a man who has been through trials and come out convinced that love wins.

Paul has been beaten, imprisoned, betrayed, stoned, shipwrecked—
and yet he still says, “Nothing can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

Notice what Paul doesn’t say.
He doesn’t say, “Nothing bad will happen to you.”
He says, “Nothing can separate you from Christ when it does.”

That’s the difference between optimism and faith.
Optimism says, “It’ll all work out.”
Faith says, “Even if it doesn’t, God will still be with me.”

Life will test you.
But the love of Christ doesn’t snap under pressure.
It’s not fragile.
It’s the most durable thing in the universe.

Our feelings come and go,
our circumstances rise and fall,
but Christ’s love doesn’t flinch.
It’s covenant, not comfort.
It’s promise, not mood.

Paul points to the Cross as proof.
If God didn’t spare His own Son,
what more could He give to prove His love?

The Cross is God’s final word to a world that keeps asking, “Do You care?”
Every time we doubt Him, the Cross still stands there saying, “Yes — this much.”

And that’s why the Eucharist is the centre of everything.
It’s the Cross made present again —
the same love poured out for us,
the same Christ offering Himself for you and for many,
the same victory of love over fear, sin, and death.

When you receive Holy Communion, you receive the very love Paul is talking about —
a love that cannot be lost or destroyed.

Then, in the Gospel, we see the human face of that divine love.
Jesus is told that Herod wants to kill Him.
And what does He do?
He keeps walking toward Jerusalem — toward the very city that will reject Him.

He says, “Jerusalem, Jerusalem… how often have I longed to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her brood under her wings — but you refused.”

That’s one of the most tender images in all of Scripture —
the Son of God comparing Himself to a mother bird.
He’s not angry; He’s heartbroken.

That’s divine love: vulnerable, wounded, yet relentless.
Christ doesn’t stop loving when He’s rejected — He keeps walking toward the Cross.
And that’s why His love can never be separated from us.
Because it’s not built on our faithfulness; it’s built on His.

When we go through suffering — illness, betrayal, loneliness, loss —
our first temptation is to think, “God has forgotten me.”
But Paul says no: those very things cannot cut you off from His love.

If anything, suffering is the place where His love becomes most real.
When we have nothing left, we discover what cannot be taken away —
Christ Himself.

That’s the secret of the saints.
They suffered more than most, but they loved more deeply because of it.
Their wounds became windows for grace.

So what do we do with this truth?
If nothing can separate us from Christ’s love,
then nothing should separate us from loving Him in return.

Not sin — go to confession and be restored.
Not fear — bring it into prayer and let grace breathe through it.
Not indifference — ask for zeal again.

The Christian life isn’t about being unbreakable;
it’s about being unseparated —
anchored in the One who will never let go.

Today, let Paul’s words echo in your soul:
“Who will separate us from the love of Christ?”
Nothing.
Not death, nor life, nor angels, nor demons,
nor the past you regret,
nor the future you fear.

Christ’s love has already conquered it all.

And that love is here —
on this altar,
in this Eucharist,
in this moment.

So whatever burden you carried into church today,
lay it down.
Because the One who loved you to the Cross
is still saying,

“Nothing will separate you from Me.”