What I Don't Talk about in Ministry

Social media is a funny thing, isn't it? We come to Facebook and Twitter and Instagram, and we read blogs to see what our friends (and maybe foes) and favorite celebrities are up to. We log on to scan news headlines and look for upcoming events in our hometowns. We are eager to post photos from said events and we announce big news of weddings, new jobs, and babies.

And every now and then we see a post about how what we see online isn't representative of real life. Maybe it comes in the form of a favorite movie star posting a selfie sans makeup, or maybe it comes in the form of a popular "influencer" sharing a behind the scenes look of a not so tidy office or home. Whatever it may be, if you are anything like me, you appreciate these posts, but you also wonder if there's more behind the "behind the scenes" look.

I feel like I've been moderately open about some of the less than pretty parts of my life. I've shared some thoughts on scandal in the Church and I've been open about my journey in counseling. But there's one thing that I have kept pretty close to my heart since starting this blog, and it's this: Ministry is lonely.

My current work, by nature, requires a lot of time with people. I'm required day after day to work with other people and to be present to the youth who I work with. My days are often filled with meetings and appointments, but even surrounded by people, I feel alone. It's not often that I have a week where I can sit back and just unwind. My mind is often crowded with concerns about the souls of the kids I work with and frustrations with adults who couldn't care less about their kids' eternal destination. I go to bed with echoes of "I probably won't stay Catholic after I graduate from high school" and "we don't really go to Mass because we just don't have time" haunting my dreams.

In ministry, I've been blessed with the opportunity to grow closer to God. I love the liturgy. I love conversations about God and His Church. I'm that girl who likes it when the Uber driver wants to talk about faith. Even when it seems impossible, I strive to live in a way that is consistent with the Gospels. I want to see God in everything and everywhere and reject anything contrary to Life in Christ. Because of His goodness, I've grown closer to His heart, and my comfort comes in the moments when I am able to sit and lean into Him and His great love. There's nowhere I'd rather be than in prayer, gazing upon Him while He gazes upon me. And more often than not, I do these things alone, wondering "where is everyone else? Why am I so weird?"

Yes, I often think that the radical way I choose to live (striving - and often failing - for faithfulness, meekness, moderation, modesty) my life makes everyone look at me like I'm not normal, and therefore I don't fit in. So many of the things that I fight for are often met with a flippant "Does it really matter? Jesus loves you no matter what."

This past week, I received consolation with people who are a lot like me - people who are constantly thinking about holiness. Their desire for sainthood was reflected in everything from what they wear, to what they say, and how they spend their time. Far from being severe, closed-minded people, they were actually joyful and full of life. They were genuinely happy; they prayed together and lived in community, and they were interested on learning more about God day and night. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I belonged somewhere. And I realized something: These people who I felt so at home with are modeling the Church as it should be without worrying about what the rest of the world thinks about them. After spending time with them, I left feeling sad that our time together was over, but I also left them feeling something I hadn't felt in a long time: I felt restored - and I didn't feel like I was alone anymore.

Of course I know I have great friends, but it isn't often that I find safe spaces where I can talk about the loneliness I experience. I loved this experience because I was surrounded by people like me who reminded me how big God is, and in this world that exalts the ego, comfort, and temporal achievements, I needed to remember that.