Today my heart is full. Twenty-five years ago, I knelt before the altar and said my “yes” to the Lord. It was not a perfect yes—it trembled with fear and weakness—but God’s faithfulness, together with your prayers and love, has carried me to this day.
The Christian life is a journey toward holiness, our response to Christ’s call to “be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect.” Yet, along the way, we stumble. As human beings, we are frail, prone to mistakes and sins. Too often, we excuse ourselves by saying, “I am only human.” But true repentance is never just an excuse—it is a sincere admission of guilt, accompanied by the resolve to make amends and the courage to rise again.
If perfection were possible by human strength alone, none of us would need Christ. Even the disciples He handpicked faltered: Peter denied Him, Judas betrayed Him, Thomas doubted Him, James and John were ambitious for power. They were weak, imperfect, and flawed. Yet Jesus entrusted His Church to them. Why? Because when God chooses, He does not choose the qualified—He qualifies the chosen. His wisdom surpasses our understanding.
And so I often ask myself: Why me? There are many more intelligent, more talented, more prayerful, and holier men who could have been chosen. Yet God, in His mysterious love, placed His hand upon me, a sinner, and called me His priest. At times, I wrestled with this call. I even thought of walking away, believing myself unworthy of such a noble vocation. But in those dark nights, God sent me friends who refused to give up on me. Through them, I realized: no priest is worthy on his own. Our worth comes not from ourselves, but from Christ who says: “You are a priest forever, according to the order of Melchizedek.”
Yes, I am fragile. Yes, I am flawed. But my priesthood is not mine—it is Christ’s gift. And I cannot simply discard it, for on Judgment Day I will face His question: “What have you done with the gift I gave you?”
Now, after twenty-five years, I no longer wish to hide behind excuses or be trapped by my failures. I have resolved to cast aside all contradictions and to live this vocation in holiness. I may never achieve perfection, but I will strive—with every breath, with every Mass I celebrate, with every soul I serve—to be the holy priest God calls me to be. For the greatest gift a priest can give to the world is not eloquence, intelligence, or power, but holiness.
This is my prayer: that the Gaudium Sacerdotale—the joy of the priesthood—may burn brightly in me again. And I know it is possible, not because of who I am, but because of who Christ is. He is my strength when I am weak, my hope when I falter, my joy when I am burdened.
Dear brothers and sisters, pray for me as I pray for you. Let us walk together in humility and faith, trusting not in our own strength but in God’s unfailing love. For truly, in our fragility, His faithfulness shines all the more.
To Him be all glory, now and forever. Amen.