In November 1985, a mere six weeks after I was born and one day before my father’s twenty-ninth birthday my parents bundled up my tiny, little frame to face the winter cold. After chipping ice off the windshield of their car, they drove me over to Cathedral of the Risen Christ to be baptized into the Catholic Church. Of course I have no memory of this, but the family heirlooms and Kodak snapshots remain. 

As I grew, so did my relationship with Christ and His Church. I have fond memories of meticulously preparing for my First Communion, fretting over my veil making sure it looked just so. Choosing a Confirmation saint name and wearing heels for the first time was probably the highlight of my twelve year old life. Learning more about the “whys” of our faith are among some of my fondest memories from middle school and high school. I loved being Catholic. I always have. Something about its beauty ordered with tradition and truth has always captivated me. 

But time passed and with it, my naivety faded. I began to encounter differing opinions and arguments. My view was widening, empathizing with those whose life circumstances were so vastly different than my own. Not everything in life is so cut and dry, so black and white, or so easily explainable. I started to see the Church in all the ways she was broken instead of the many ways she helped me. Friends and classmates started pointing out their scepticism of the Catholic faith and God entirely. 

I began watching as friends and relatives fell away from the Church, and while they felt freed from the shackles of religion I was left somewhere between confusion and defensiveness.

Was I wrong about God and the Church all along? Would life really be easier if I left this all behind? 

After all, their critiques were valid. If the Church was perfect as she claimed to be, then how could so many accuse of being hurt by her? If priests were intended to be the hands and feet of Christ, how could we witness so much horrific abuse being covered up? If Christ is love and came to teach us how to love, why wouldn’t the Church accept everyone just as they are? If the Church was meant to draw us closer to the Father, why did I encounter leaders who were disingenuous, living double lives?

We live in a time when so much is uncertain, so much is changing. Every morning it seems as if we wake to new headlines, more bleak than the last...more injustice, more upheaval, more destruction and more unknowns. We see this brokenness everywhere, and the Church is sadly no exception.

So where is God in all of this? If He in fact loves us as He claims, why would He leave us here to sort through all the muck on our own.

Thankfully, He doesn’t.

Too often, people confuse the Church with Christ Himself. The Church is made up of broken people, who at times have hurt others in unspeakable ways, but the Church instituted by God Himself, in her teachings and morality IS perfect. How could a perfect God possibly give us anything less than that?

The Gospel of Luke reveals that Christ Himself established the Catholic Church. He did not just create a mere bureaucratic institution. Rather, He gifted His people a living, breathing community. One that is sustained and guided by the Holy Spirit. That being said, it’s everyday people like you and me who make up the Church. People that have been hurt. People that make mistakes and don’t always live up to their potential. 

We are told over and over that God is bigger than all our struggles, hurts and heartaches. How then can we still find ourselves living among the painful realities of this fractured world?

Our Father understands this. He sees us in all the harsh realities we face, and more than that He cares about them. Yes, even, and most especially, the ones that hit so painfully close to home. The ones that cut to the very heart and soul of our faith. 

But more than just gazing on us with love from afar, He is close to us and with us through it all.

Our God is a personal God and wants a relationship with us. He reaches out, walking with us in very tangible and compassionate ways. This tangible love is found within the Catholic Church, and regardless of the brokenness of His people He will always remain faithful. 

This is part of the beauty of partaking in sacraments.

We are washed with water, cleansed of sin and welcomed back into God’s chosen family through baptism. We are heard and forgiven, healed and given a chance to begin again through confession. God chooses to come and physically reside in each of us when we receive the Eucharist. He walks with us in our most vulnerable moments when we can physically see and be near Him in Adoration. Through the Mass, He walks with us, leading us into deeper union with Him over and over again. The Church is not simply a building where we can find a community that also shares our worldview, it is where Our Lord is found. We are given these sacraments not only as a way of obtaining extraordinary grace, but also to help lead us beyond the physical world into the spiritual realm as well. 

And when you really think about it, how incredible is it that He puts all things into place so we can experience His love, not just know it and believe it?

He roots for us and delights in us. He doesn’t want harm for His children. He doesn’t want confusion or pain. He would never desire anything but the absolute best for each of us. He is always for us, even when life throws us challenges or we make a mess of things. He is ALWAYS for you. 

I’ve experienced this in my own life, and seen it in others. Even when the road is bumpy or I take a wrong turn, the Church is steadfast leading me back to the One I love.

When I settle my soul and reflect on the Church in all the powerful, yet seemingly ordinary ways she touches my life and leads me closer to the Father, how could I turn to anything else for it is so obvious that it is exactly where I belong?