Unity and Mission

When I left Protestantism—specifically Evangelicalism—for Catholicism, I often second-guessed my decision, worried that my spiritual life wouldn't be as vibrant as it once was. In my former church, we worshipped God with music and singing, experiencing emotional highs and a passionate love for the Lord. It may have been the Holy Spirit at work—I'm not sure as it could be reflective of my own mental state at that time. But when I encountered the Catholic liturgy, everything felt so predictable, and at times, even rote. I remember once falling asleep during the homily, and it probably won't be the last. I'm sure I'm not the only one who has felt this way.

However, it's okay to feel bored at Mass

But at some point in my journey to Catholicism, I came to understand that my faith isn't ultimately about my feelings or preferred style of worship. The entire Mass is deeply biblical—centered on the re-presentation of Christ’s once-for-all sacrifice for humanity. He is the only sacrifice worthy of being offered to God. As Catholics, the Eucharist is the source and summit of our Christian life.

I stopped feeling alienated and began to appreciate what the Mass truly offers—how it nourishes our faith, not just emotionally but spiritually and sacramentally.

It's okay if the Mass sometimes feels boring, or if I don't always resonate emotionally with the liturgy. Our faith is real, and it doesn’t depend on our feelings to be true. Around the world, we are united in celebrating the same Eucharist. That's why I'm grateful to be Catholic. Even when I don't feel anything, I know Jesus is truly present in the Eucharist—and I get to have a personal, intimate relationship with Him. That reality is just beautiful.

I'm standing on solid rock: the Church that Jesus Christ Himself founded—built on Peter, his confession of faith, and the apostolic succession that continues to this day. Christ is the cornerstone, the Bridegroom of the Church.

St. Peter, please pray for us.

Along the way, it's easy to be comfortable and complacent

Imagine living in a desert with everyone else, where water is extremely scarce. Everything feels bleak—people are thirsty, tired, and worn down. Then, suddenly, you're the first to discover an oasis with unlimited water. You drink deeply and become fully hydrated. Now you have two choices: keep it to yourself or tell everyone that there’s an oasis where they too can drink and be refreshed.

Given that the oasis has unlimited water, the choice seems obvious—I'd tell everyone.

The same is true of our faith. We don't just believe in a powerful being—we have the infinite God, who loves us and chooses to be present with us through the Eucharist and the sacraments His Church administers to the faithful. We've been transformed and renewed. We've encountered His real presence. How could we not want others to experience the same?

Oftentimes, I'm tempted to isolate myself while adoring Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament, thinking, "Jesus is all I need—I don't need people." But I'm continually reminded that my mission, like that of every disciple, is to make disciples of all nations. That means I'm called not just to adore Him privately, but to open myself to others—to be vulnerable, to show His love, and to invite and challenge others to do the same. As I strive to imitate Christ, I must also lead others to Him.

I've learned so much from St. Paul—especially through his mission to proclaim the Gospel to the Gentiles and his dedication to teaching and guiding the early churches throughout the New Testament. As much as we need Peter as our source of unity and the one to settle disputes, we also need Paul’s missionary zeal—his passion to reach the lost and gather those who are not yet part of the flock.

Sometimes, we tend to think that Protestants are better at fellowship, Bible studies, and evangelization, while we Catholics excel in the liturgy and sacraments. I’ve even heard the cop-out response: “Well, they need to do all that because they don't have the fullness of truth—we don't need to attract people since we already do.”

Nothing could be further from the truth.

This is not an either-or situation. We are called to do both. We're called to be just as committed—if not more so—in evangelizing, opening our homes, and welcoming others into the faith. We can't afford to stay comfortable in our own little bubbles. The Gospel is not meant to be hidden behind stained glass windows—it's meant to be proclaimed to the ends of the earth.

We must step out of our comfort zones and evangelize until every ear has heard the Gospel and every tongue declares that Jesus is Lord.

St. Paul, please pray for us.