Today’s readings take us straight into the two places every Christian has to face:
the heart and the present moment.

St Paul looks inward — the heart in conflict.
Jesus looks outward — the moment of decision.
Together they tell us: don’t live blind to the struggle inside you, or to the grace standing right in front of you.

Paul’s words are startlingly honest: “I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I do.”

There’s no pretending here.
This is the great Apostle admitting he’s at war with himself.
The will says yes; the weakness says no.
Sound familiar?

Every one of us knows that battlefield —
the tug of conscience, the fight between desire and duty,
the frustration of falling into the same sins we swore we’d left behind.

Paul isn’t despairing; he’s diagnosing.
He’s showing that sin is not just bad behaviour — it’s bondage.
We’re not sick people who need a pep talk;
we’re captives who need a Saviour.

That’s why he cries, “Who will rescue me from this body of death?
Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!”

That’s the turning point.
Grace doesn’t just forgive the sinner; it frees the prisoner.
It’s not self-help that saves us — it’s Christ Himself.

The world says, “You’ve got this — you can fix yourself.”
But the Christian knows, “I don’t got this — I need grace.”
That’s not weakness; that’s realism.
Without God, we are stuck with the same broken machinery.
With God, we are reborn from the inside out.

That’s why confession is not humiliation — it’s liberation.
It’s Paul’s cry made personal: “Lord, rescue me again.”
And every time we walk out of that confessional,
we step into Romans 8: “There is now no condemnation for those in Christ Jesus.”

Then in the Gospel, Jesus turns from the inner battle to the outer blindness.
He says, “You know how to interpret the weather — but you do not know how to interpret the present time.”

He’s speaking to people who could predict rain from a cloud,
but couldn’t recognise the Saviour standing in front of them.

They could read the sky, but not their souls.
And He tells them, “Settle with your opponent on the way.”
In other words: make peace with God now — don’t wait for the court of eternity.

That’s the same message as Paul’s: grace is available now.
You don’t have to fix yourself first;
you just have to stop pretending you don’t need fixing.

Jesus is always urging urgency — not panic, but readiness.
Not “hurry up,” but “wake up.”
The biggest danger in the spiritual life isn’t rebellion; it’s delay.
The devil’s favourite word isn’t “no,” it’s “later.”

The “signs of the times” aren’t only about world events;
they’re about the state of the soul.
When your conscience stirs, when grace nudges,
when you sense God calling you to change — that’s your weather warning.
Don’t wait for better conditions.
The time to repent, to forgive, to start again — is now.

Every Mass is both battlefield and rescue.
Here, the same Jesus Paul thanked as his Deliverer
becomes present again under bread and wine.
Here, the cry “Who will save me?” meets the answer,
“This is My Body, given for you.”

We come to the altar still divided inside,
but we leave carrying within us the One who unites what sin had split.
Grace doesn’t just cover us — it gets inside us.

That’s the power Paul discovered:
Christ within, grace alive, love stronger than sin.

So today, take these two lessons:

From Paul: admit the war within and cry out for rescue.

From Jesus: recognise the time of grace and act on it now.

Don’t waste the present moment; it’s where eternity begins.
And don’t despair over the battle; it’s where grace proves its strength.

Because the same Lord who rebuked blindness
and rescued Paul from his slavery
is here at this altar —
ready to rescue us again.