I've been thinking lately about the many "golden calves" in my life—those false idols we create and worship instead of God. As a student, I chase success with sincere intent, but often through false gods: grades, approval, beauty, jobs, relationships, and self-criticism. When I measure my worth by these standards, I become trapped in comparison, drained of spirit, and lost in doubt.
In today's first reading, we see the Israelites creating their own golden calf. Despite witnessing God's miraculous deeds in Egypt and at the Red Sea, they quickly forgot. As the Responsorial Psalm puts it, "They exchanged their glory for the image of a grass-eating bullock." How striking that they traded their true glory—their relationship with the living God—for something so much less. Yet how familiar this feels. How easily I exchange my own glory—being loved by God—for the hollow validation of worldly success.
The psalm continues, "They forgot the God who had saved them, who had done great deeds in Egypt." I, too, forget. When anxiety rises or disappointment strikes, I forget all the ways God has provided—all the times prayers were answered, all the moments of unexpected grace. Like the Israelites, my spiritual amnesia leads me to fashion idols of societal success, wealth, and achievement—material values that pull me away from God. I find myself striving to meet these hollow requirements instead of turning toward the genuine fulfillment found only in a relationship with Him.
When God's anger burned against the Israelites, Moses stood "in the breach" as their intercessor. He reminded God of His promises and appealed to His mercy. And remarkably, "the LORD relented in the punishment he had threatened to inflict on his people." This story reveals both human frailty and divine mercy—a mercy that remains available to us today.
The Gospel verse takes us deeper still: "God so loved the world that he gave his only-begotten Son, so that everyone who believes in him might have eternal life." Here is the ultimate intercessor—Christ himself—standing in the breach between our sin and God's justice. This verse reminds me that God's love comes first, before any effort of mine. Before I try to love God better, before I worry about my failings, before I question my worth, God has already acted decisively on my behalf.
I’m beginning to realize I’ve had things backward. I get caught up in trying to prove myself—worrying about my failures, my mistakes, and whether I’m good enough for God. But today’s Scriptures remind me that salvation doesn’t begin with what I do; it begins with remembering what God has already done. As Psalm 130 says, “I hope in the LORD, I trust in his word; with him there is kindness and plenteous redemption.”
The past cannot be undone, nor can my sins. But what matters more is this present moment and the eternal life God offers through Christ. When I feel drained by the golden calves of achievement, approval, and self-criticism, I need to turn back to the Lord. Only in Him can I find the renewal my spirit longs for.
In this fourth week of Lent, as we journey closer to Holy Week, perhaps the most important spiritual practice begins with remembering—remembering how God rescued the Israelites from Egypt, remembering how Christ gave himself so that our sins could be forgiven, remembering that eternal life is not earned by sinlessness but received through faith in the One. But remembrance alone is insufficient; it must propel us toward action and practice in our daily lives.
I choose to focus on God's love. In that active remembrance, I find the strength to turn from my golden calves and embrace the true glory that comes from being a beloved child of God. This means living each moment intentionally, allowing God's grace to shape not just what I believe but how I act and who I become. While I cannot change my past mistakes, I can, through Christ, transform how I respond to each present opportunity to live as one who belongs to Him.
