I cannot imagine life now without God being at the center of it all. I used to be so good at pushing His commands aside, responding to everyone else’s call except His. But He was always persistent, always the patient and loving Father.
Long before I became Catholic, God had been knocking at my heart’s door, often in subtle ways. What did He want? He had a lot of “fixing up” to do with me, it turns out. To Him, it was not enough to just go through the motions of attending Mass and being a good person. He expected more than the minimum. The more I brushed Him aside, the more He put me through situations to draw me back to Him. Even if those situations involved some real pain and suffering. On the road to redemption and ultimate transformation, God put me through a series of trials (crosses) over a course of several years in order to get me to pay attention to Him. These were the three heaviest:
The Call
When I started a business, I worked feverishly to grow it and almost my entire days revolved around every aspect of its operations. My work became my identity and my source of pride. A small clientele soon came about and life was going great, because I had started something entirely out of scratch and I was fulfilling my entrepreneurial dreams.
Then I received a phone call one day and my world fell apart.
In 2013, my company fell victim to a fraud ring. At the same time, I had also started working with a celebrity client. In private I was drowning in shock and disbelief over the fraud, but professionally I was on cloud nine after landing such an important assignment. But I would quickly discover my famous client also had longstanding psychiatric issues, frequent temper outbursts, and demanding requests. I would spend hours at times listening as she chided about her family troubles and her struggles with growing up in the public eye. I would soak in every one of her toxic words like a sponge, until my head started to hurt.
All it took was one wrong decision.
Soon, I hit rock bottom and spiraled into a sea of despair. The world I knew suddenly did not feel safe anymore. I instead retreated to the only part of the world that I could feel safe: my family. There we were, huddled together, and all I needed was consolation as I repeatedly broke down many days over in a pool of hot and shameful tears.
How could I, always the overly cautious one, not have listened to my conscience screaming at me to politely hang up the phone and walk away that fateful day? As a kid, my dad would often warn me about the wolves in sheep’s clothing, recognizing that my kindhearted nature could be more a liability than an asset. The memory of his warning hit me like a ton of bricks.
Not being able to give my family the kind of Christmas I wanted that year was especially heart-wrenching. A voice inside me seemed to cry out constantly: “you are a real failure.” And I started to believe those words with every fiber of my being.
However, I soon decided to tune out the angry voice and listen to the yearning in my soul.
Wounded but not defeated, I slowly began to muster the strength to open up and embrace the help of others. Taught to be self-reliant and resilient, this did not come easy. I especially never forgot the kind gesture of a friend, who, after providing me a ride home one day gently offered Christmas gifts for my daughter. Her offer to help in my most vulnerable state reduced me to tears. It dawned on me at that moment that someone somewhere had been looking out for me. I did not quite know who or what at the time, but God’s spirit clearly touched me.
Quietly thanking God for always sending angels to watch over me, I closed the chapter on this difficult period and moved on.
The Loss
In the months that followed, I slowly but carefully started picking back up where I left off. Soon enough, I was back to my old habits and my set ways. I continued to juggle the demands of a growing clientele and family, and filling up many a weekend with service commitments at the parish. But like most people, my priorities were reserved to the family and my work. I had my Catholic faith, too. At least, I thought I did. It just was not high up on the priority list.
But despite all this activity and constant running around, I felt unfulfilled. Life was chock-full of things to do, but not the kinds of things that brought me to a level of sustained happiness. I felt something was missing in my soul, but I just could not figure out what it was or what to do.
Since the heavy cross from 2013 did little to change my ways, God allowed another storm to come through to wake me up again.
In 2016, we came home and walked in on a burglary in progress. Inside my house. In broad daylight. And on a busy street.
All because of a crack of window I left open in my kitchen. As I had done for over a decade.
For an unknown period of time, the thief turned my safe haven into a crime scene. With images of the Blessed Mother and Jesus in multiple places, I imagined their sorrow as they watched the evil unfold right before their eyes.
The trauma of that day hit me the hardest. Memories of the fraud ring came back. I was at times inconsolable, panic- and grief-stricken, and the emotional rollercoaster in the days ahead led to intense guilt, mistrust, anger, fear and feelings of vulnerability.
Moments of grace emerged from those dark hours, however, such as being spared from physical harm and significant property loss. Despite that, however, the weight of responsibility and blame sat squarely on my shoulders and would remain there for an excruciatingly long time, slowly eating me up.
An escape to New York City for a few days was just the respite I needed for the sake of my emotional health. My cousin, Danny, a retired police officer, was always like a protective big brother whenever I visited, quick with a goofy laugh and full of wisdom to share. His signature style was to always remind his listeners to live each day to its fullest and to not worry about anything.
Little did I know it would be the last time I would see Danny alive.
Two weeks after I returned home, the news of his sudden death hit me like a speeding train. Still trying to process the trauma from the burglary, I was paralyzed by overwhelming grief all over again.
In the weeks following the funeral, I would spend days in a state of stunned confusion, often wondering out loud why I felt so abandoned by God. Why did He allow all of this to happen? Of all the nondescript houses along my street, why was only mine targeted? And why now? Why did He take Danny from us so suddenly? Did He not know how well-loved he was?
But God did not sit on my questions for very long. He responded as He always did, a tender whisper right into the core of my heart: “Come back to Me.”
It was in those moments I realized God never abandoned me after all; He was at my side all along. I was just too blinded by despair to even notice: It was He who made it possible for me to see Danny one last time before his death. It was He who etched Danny’s last words into my memory bank. And it was He who brought our families back a little closer together as a result of our shared loss.
Comforted that I was still loved in the eyes of God, I still wrestled with my inner demons, however – feelings of mistrust and vulnerability especially followed me like an old friend.
That summer, the lingering effects of the trauma were especially felt when I chaperoned a group of youth to my second World Youth Day (WYD) pilgrimage, this time to Krakow, Poland. Large crowds and an intense fear of being separated from a group suddenly became terrifying realities. It was the Jubilee Year of Mercy in the Catholic Church and the WYD pilgrimage experience followed the same mercy theme, just as Jesus had introduced in the Sermon on the Mount: “Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy” (Matt. 5:7).
How fitting it was for me to be immersed in the message of God’s mercy during my moments of trial. It was an internal battle of trying to cling to His light and at the same time, fighting back the lingering darkness that liked to follow me relentlessly. But it was God’s grace that moved me to seek and receive His forgiveness for the anger and bitterness I harbored towards the individuals who hurt me so deeply, and equally important, forgiveness towards myself for carrying the weight of self-blame for so long. How great is His mercy!
The Surrender
But despite all of the storms, I was far from a changed person. Just like before, soon enough the old habits and set ways came right back.
By 2018, life had resumed its same hectic pace, business was busier than ever, and family and social/recreational activities demanded an equal amount of time if not more.
I was also finding myself giving even more time to the parish, but not in the true Christian steward sense. I was drawn to doing for the sake of keeping busy rather than loving what I was doing. Just another add-on to my weekend to-do list. I suppose at the time, I cared more about adding to my church résumé than seeking holiness.
I did not realize this was the wrong Christian attitude. But God, in His infinite wisdom, just had to do what it took again to set me right.
One day, I woke up to an intense muscular pain below the ribcage so excruciating that it felt like childbirth without the epidural. Like a muscle knot under my ribs that came out of nowhere. Running to the hospital down the street was a temptation, but something more powerful was drawing me away instead. The voice of the Lord deep within was calling me to a dialogue. It was an invitation I just could not brush aside anymore. I had ignored Him long enough.
Despite almost keeling over, I powered through my morning walk with each painfully slow step and in my anguish, I tearfully peppered God with an onslaught of questions:
“My God, why this pain? Are You punishing me? What have I done to deserve this? I thought You were a God of infinite love, a God of mercy? Was I not faithful to You? I thought You knew I loved You?“
The Lord’s tender whispers in my heart spoke of something deeper:
“If you love Me, then where is the trust? Do you not trust Me enough to take care of everything in your life, all of your needs, cares and worries? Everything you have, I gave you.”
How could I run away from the Truth? Who was I fooling? He knew all about me.
The Lord was reining in on the two things He knew that mattered to me more than anything in the world: my family and my work. In my selfishness, He knew I did not put Him on the top of the priority list. He knew how much I wanted to control my own destiny, steer my own ship, and do things my way.
Acknowledging remorsefully my shortcomings and begging for His mercy and forgiveness from a place of brokenness and emptiness was deeply humbling. I was no longer fixated on the excruciating pain but on repairing the damage I had caused to our relationship.
That day would be the day I surrendered.
“Lord, I am deeply sorry for having offended You, for all the times I put everything else in my life above You. I surrender to You and give up all control of this life. Lord, if You must take me today, please do not let my family find me in the streets like this. But, if it is Your will, please take away this pain so that I may have the strength to take care of the family and the clients You gave me.”
God’s directive to me was immediate: “Then, serve My people.”
Words expressed from a heart of contrition held such immense power. With each step I took after this prayerful exchange, the ribcage pain started to miraculously lessen.
And what happened next could only be the work of His miraculous hands: upon returning home and reaching high up to put away something in a closet, I felt an electrical “zap” go through the ribcage area and the pain immediately disappeared!
Overcome with emotion and with profound gratitude, I realized I could no longer look at life through the lens of darkness but from a place of light. After experiencing a miracle healing like that, no longer could I return to old habits and set ways. I needed to allow God to transform me so that I too “might live in newness of life” (Rom. 6:4). Today would be the beginning of the rest of my life: to put God first in everything, to trust in His providence, to do His will.
The Transformation
In the weeks that followed, I began working on a more frequent dialogue with God. I was always more concerned about saying the wrong words, asking for the wrong things, messing up on prayers every Catholic should already know by heart, and offending the Lord in the process. But the prompting of the Spirit was always inviting me to keep trying, to keep seeking, and to keep asking, to focus on the intent rather than on perfection.
A transformed heart meant a newfound joy in giving back to the Church, in the way of service like never before. It was about the joy of responding to God’s grace for my ongoing conversion in this faith journey. Although I had seen the Light, I was still a work in progress.
The Church community comprised of the clergy and the laity (and others) also had an important role to play in my ongoing conversion.
One day, an abrupt change to the clergy assignment at my parish brought initial mixed feelings from me. Change is hard, but it is a necessary part of life. Our long-serving priest was being reassigned elsewhere and we would be assigned a new one. But God, as I had heard before, works in mysterious ways. He brings out the good in every situation, no matter what it is. By sending a new shepherd to my parish at a pivotal time in my faith journey, I began to discern this as a sign that He had my best interests in mind.
And it was.
Father Joseph turned out to be the boost of confidence, enthusiasm, and change I had been seeking for a long time. Refreshingly funny and jovial, he was a powerhouse whose teachings and principles had an profound effect on my spiritual growth and transformation. So profound that my mustard seed of faith planted way back in RCIA would finally sprout and bear real fruit. God knew exactly what I needed to draw me closer to Him. For years, I had been ministered to by many wonderful and faith-filled priests but with minimal to moderate impact on my growth as a Catholic. God sent a different one to show me the path back to His sheepfold. How great is the work of His hands!
In addition, the trajectory of my faith journey only blossomed further from here: I started to crave more time alone with Jesus. I started having frequent periods of nonstop dialogue with God that I often wondered, jokingly, if He would ask me to shush up. I discovered an increased joy in teaching the faith, using these moments to also enter deeper into the faith myself. I started to devour any reading material pertaining to the faith. The work of the Church was becoming something I earnestly looked forward to. God was now at the top of the priority list, where He should have always been. Whenever I had a lot going on my plate, the Holy Spirit always found a way to rearrange my schedule to make His work possible.
The Lord has taught me that when I let go and trust in Him, even when it is very hard, He grants ample grace to keep me moving in His direction. In retrospect, I am thankful that God brought storms into my life to draw me back to Him. This transformation holds a deeper meaning: it was God’s directive for me to serve Him. I want nothing but to give Him all the glory for all that He has done for an undeserving sinner like me. I cannot disappoint Him again. Praise God!
Photo credit: Kyle Johnson on Unsplash