A Fulfilling Faith

Part 1 - Belonging and a Call

This is the first in a short series on what it means to live a fulfilling faith as a Catholic today: not just surviving but truly belonging, growing, and living as part of the Body of Christ. It’s not meant to cover every angle, but to offer a real and honest reflection on what many of us are longing for: deeper connection, clearer purpose, and a faith that’s fully lived.

It was a dreary winter Sunday morning, and Mass had just let out. My 6 year old and 4 year old were restless, the 4 year old in a giant pink cast going up to her hip thanks to a last second break the very day before our move. My 7 month old was asleep on me, in my favorite baby carrier. We knew absolutely no one in the only Catholic Church in town. We had just moved from Western New York to a tiny 20K person town in Kentucky.

We stood out, due to my daughter’s the hot pink cast, my son’s slow gait in his orthotics, the weight of our disorientation was made clear as we tried to maneuver the slate flooring together.

Yet no one approached. Not one person said “hello”, or “welcome”.

My husband took the cues and was ushering us to the doors to head home. Yet I lingered, taking stock of who was there, coming and going. The priest was an elderly man, who offered the most beautiful Mass, his love for Jesus evident in how he raised the host with loving eyes fixed upon it, but in person he was curt, and apparently quite sick. He would pass 1 month later, may he rest in peace.

We left the church meeting no one that day, and for several weeks after. I don’t think our experience is uncommon.

It wasn’t just disappointing, but frustrating. We had come to worship, yes, but also to find community. Instead of finding welcome, we felt invisible. That quiet ache followed me home, pressing the question: where do we actually belong?

Belonging

It is something carved into the quick of our souls. A desire so innate that as adolescents, regardless of the home we grow up in, we change our clothes, our hair, everything we can to try and fit in, to belong. As adults we may choose to keep our brand of clothing or hair style but we still long to be included, invited in, and seen.

It’s something bone-deep, and this longing never goes away.

Yet as Catholics, and many Christians, we’ve bought into a modern lie: that we must walk through life alone. That we must strive alone. That we grow in faith alone. That, really, we can only rely on ourselves. We’ve been led to believe that fellowship is frivolous, or worse, dangerous. We could be rejected. We might feel exposed.

So it’s safer to not even try.

So we go to Mass each week, make the customary half-smiles to our neighbors in the pews at the sign of peace and leave it at that.

But does it really have to be this way?

Imagine this, you go to Mass and see faces you know and who know you. After Mass you gather outside, and they approach, asking how your week has been, ask about your kids. You ask the same questions, and each of you share real and true parts of your days, not just the socially acceptable “fine” response, keeping things light or cordial.

You make the choice to be vulnerable.

You have a standing meal date with a few of these families, and your kids know each other, attend birthday parties together, maybe even go to school together. You celebrate feast days, baptismal anniversaries, and yes even the election of a new pope! You have a cohort of families that you call your own, and they claim you as well.

You belong.

Life is hard at times but you’re not alone, and each of you share part of the burden of the other, supporting each other in prayer but also in temporal, tangible ways.

Each adult, and even older children who see it modeled, recognize their role in this knitted together community. That each has to reach out, and respond. To invite and include. To be real, and even vulnerable. To accept and to place boundaries. To be present and when not able, to be honest about why, then try again. To hold each other accountable and be willing to be held to account.

This isn’t some fantasy but a real possibility in communities of Catholics that choose to take seriously their roles as laity in the Church.

I’ve seen it with my own eyes and am currently living it.

Belonging.

This isn’t just emotional, it’s vocational. And the Church has something to say about it, too.

A Call

Many of us long for a more vibrant Church, but too often we wait for someone else to build it.

Yet the Catechism makes it clear:

“By reason of their special vocation it belongs to the laity to seek the kingdom of God by engaging in temporal affairs and directing them according to God’s will…” (CCC 898)¹

“They are called… to work for the sanctification of the world from within as leaven, in the spirit of the Gospel.” (Lumen Gentium 31)

Friends, this isn’t just about the “big things.” It’s not only for missionaries or the ordained. It’s for you and me, where we are right now, with what we have at this moment. Taking small steps.

A fulfilling faith requires us to ask:

Where is God asking me to build up the Church?

What gifts do I have that I’ve tucked away out of fear or distraction or fatigue?

Maybe it’s offering to clean up after a parish event.

Maybe it’s inviting that new family lingering near the door to coffee or a playdate.

Maybe it’s leading a Bible study group or asking your pastor what help is most needed.

Maybe it’s praying about your charisms², your character, your strengths and asking God where He wants to use them.

The priest can’t do it all and we shouldn’t expect him to.

The Church doesn’t flourish through the hierarchy alone, it flourishes when the Body of Christ is alive in every member.

“Their activity in ecclesial communities is so necessary that, for the most part, the apostolate of the pastors cannot be fully effective without it. (CCC 900)³

We are the hands and feet of Christ, meant to serve one another and reflect His presence in the ordinary places.

This isn’t a suggestion. It’s a sacred responsibility.

And the modern world isn’t waiting. It’s aching with loneliness, disconnection, and despair - right now.

Catholics, your Church needs you.

Let’s ask the Lord today: Where are You calling me to step in?

And then, let’s take that first small step.

3 Small Ways to Start Now:

1. Linger. Where ever it is appropriate to gather after Mass, linger, and try to make eye contact, or wave, or say hello. Start small, and build on it. Invite a friend to linger with you, and wave over others as you see them.

2. Consider hosting a Rosary Dinner. We did in Virginia and there is a lovely couple here that does in our area that draws hundreds! You can start small though, with just 2-3 families, once a month. Ask God to bless it and see where He takes this small offering.

3. I know with small, restless children it’s a lot to ask, but being present matters. Try to show up to parish events. Be a little bold, and say “hello” to any families or young adults you see. Ask questions. Answer honestly. Be willing to be just a little vulnerable.

These are simple, imperfect steps. But they are real. And taken together, they begin to build something strong - a community.

In the next part of this series, we’ll explore how formation happens not just through instruction, which is good, but through presence, modeling, and holy friendships.

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1. See Lumen Gentium 31

2. What is a Charism?

3. See Lumen Gentium 33