I'm uncomfortable.

I’m uncomfortable.

I’m living in the balance of the world I call my home, and a faith that is more important to me than anything else.

I live in a world that always puts something in front of me for entertainment, or tells me to have a full to-do list, because silence is nothing more than wasted time.

My faith tells me the value and utmost importance of entering into silence to come face to face with who I am, and who my Creator is.

I live in a world that tells me happiness is easy to find—it’s in a bottle, or in a bed with an almost-complete stranger…and that it’s okay.

My faith tells me that true happiness consists in helping others, loving every individual I encounter—even the ones I don’t particularly care for—and having a relationship with a God who loves me more than my human mind can comprehend.

I live in a world that tells me that myself and my feelings are above all else, and, if necessary, the heck with everyone else. I live in a world where I am entitled to creating a version of truth that satisfies what I like and want, and makes me comfortable.

My faith tells me to always put the needs of others before my own, and that there is only one truth—that it is eternal, everlasting, unchangeable, and cannot be determined by a majority opinion or popular vote.

I live in a world that tells me to be in control of my own destiny.

My faith compels me to surrender in trust to a being greater than myself.

I live in a world where religion is nothing more than a chore, to be restricted to the four walls of a church building.

My faith compels me to every day seek to become a better person than I am at the moment—to become a saint—to become like Christ.

I live in a world that tells me seeing is believing.

My faith tells me that believing is seeing.

I’m uncomfortable.

I believe that on a Friday afternoon two-thousand years ago, a man was nailed to a tree, and that three days later when his tomb was found empty, he had risen from the dead.

I believe that it was an event that changed everything.

I believe that he died for every sin that every person throughout all of human history, from the beginning of time to the end, ever has and ever will commit.

I believe that as he hung upon the cross in agony—as the thorns pressed into his head, and as it became harder and harder to breathe—he thought of me—and he kept going.

I believe that the cross is a scandal. It’s hideous. Yet, somehow, it’s beautiful. It’s the beauty of a love that we cannot fully understand—a love that defeats death and brings life.

I believe that without the cross, there can be no resurrection.

I believe that every day at Mass, I see a miracle—I encounter Jesus Christ—my savior and my God, when He, acting through a priest, changes bread and wine into His Body and Blood.

I believe that, if the Church was wrong—that if my faith wasn’t correct—the litany of Saints who shed their blood and laid down their lives rather than rejecting Christ, from the beginning of the Church to today, would not exist.

I believe in one God, the Father almighty, maker of heaven and earth, of all things visible and invisible.

I believe in one Lord, Jesus Christ, the Only Begotten Son of God, born of the Father before all ages. God from God, Light from Light, true God from true God, begotten, not made, consubstantial with the Father; through him all things were made. For us men and for our salvation, he came down from heaven, and by the Holy Spirit was incarnate of the Virgin Mary, and became man. For our sake he was crucified under Pontius Pilate, he suffered death and was buried, and rose again on the third day, in accordance with the Scriptures. He ascended into Heaven, and is seated at the right hand of the Father. He will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead, and his kingdom will have no end. I believe in the Holy Spirit, the Lord, the giver of life, who proceeds from the Father and the Son, who with the Father and the Son is adored and glorified, who has spoken through the prophets. I believe in one, holy, catholic, and apostolic Church, I confess one Baptism for the forgiveness of sins, and I look forward to the resurrection of the dead and the life of the world to come.

In the balance of discomfort, in this—in what I believe—in my faith—in my relationship with Christ—although it’s not always a life easily lived, comfort is found.

In all things, may God be glorified.

Amen.