Monthly Newspaper • DIOCESE OF BRIDGEPORT

Pope Francis has a message for us: Do not be afraid of holiness,” he encourages. “It will take away none of your energy, vitality, or joy.” In short, answering the universal call to holiness costs you very little.

Do yourself a favor this Easter season (yes, we are still in the Easter season), and read Gaudete et Exsultate (Rejoice and Be Glad), which was published today by the Vatican and signed by Pope Francis on the feast of St. Joseph on March 19. This new apostolic exhortation invites the faithful to consider the universal call to holiness and challenges us against being “enemies of holiness” by the way we live and treat others.

In this document, Pope Francis is talking to us – even writing in the second person to make sure you and I understand that this message is for those who read it. “We are called to be holy by living our loves and love and by bearing witness in everything we do, wherever we find ourselves.” By doing this, Pope Francis says, we can become the “saints next door” – the middle-class moms and dads trying to raise faith-filled children, the types of people to whom others can look to for an example of Christian living.

Contrary to recent news reports, Pope Francis clearly states that the devil is real (and powerful) and offers advice on how to counter the power of evil and the “poison” the devil delivers to our world. Letting down our guard, Pope Francis warns, lets the devil in and allows the poison to spread.

There is much to enjoy in this exhortation and I encourage you to read it. It will take some time to work through and there will be moments of surprise. I dare say that Pope Francis’ critics will take issue with his elevation of immigration issues to an equal footing with bioethical concerns. But those critics would be better served reading the document and not just a review. We cannot, as a Church, sing songs like All Are Welcome without understanding the implications of the words we sing. We cannot, Pope Francis challenges, be content being against abortion (though he is clear our defense of the unborn must be “clear, firm and passionate”) and yet not care for children once they are outside the womb.

The section on discernment is a great read for those who want to learn more about spiritual practices that can lead to holiness. For those who love the Beatitudes, read Pope Francis’ comments on how that wonderful chapter in Matthew are the “identity card” for every Catholic. For those who, like me, struggle with saying twice what I should, pay attention to Pope Francis admonition that holiness never includes talking about our friends and neighbors.

Rejoice and be glad. Perfection is not required. Holiness is not only possible. It is necessary.

By: Patrick Donovan, Executive Director of The Leadership Institute

During these days of Easter week, the Gospels recount the early appearance accounts of the Risen Lord to his disciples. What is common to many of them is the fact that these disciples could not recognize the Lord’s presence, even when he was standing in front of them. They overcame their “blindness” only when the Lord made the outreach first, allowing them to recognize His presence.

The inability of the earliest disciples to recognize the Lord’s presence was caused in part by their own self-absorption. They were consumed by their own concerns and feelings, whether that was grief on the part of Mary Magdalene, or confusion and disappointment as was true for the two disciples on the road to Emmaus. One could describe them as being “stuck” within their own worlds, rendering them unable to see outside of themselves and to welcome the presence of Christ as He truly is.

Have you ever been going through a tough time, and somebody told you to “put it before the cross” or “give it up to God?”

I have been given this advice by well-intentioned people countless times as a remedy for everything from test anxiety, to a breakup, to deaths in the family. No matter the situation, my answer was always simple: “how?”

How does one give up a share of one’s burden? How can I simultaneously pick up my cross, and let Christ walk with me?

All of this came to a head in January, as I journeyed with our Diocesan pilgrimage to the Holy Land. As Social Media Leader, I had asked Diocesan faithful to share their intentions on our various media platforms so I could bring them with me on the journey. I had also reached out to friends, family members, and everyone I talked to, asking for their intentions. On this trip, I tried very intentionally to hold them in my heart, praying for them at specific, meaningful holy places, and doing so with intensity and passion.

I was amazed by the personal, oftentimes tearful, conversations I had with people in the months and weeks leading up to the trip. I found myself carrying people’s most important, most cherished, and in some cases, most desperate intentions.

The day we arrived, just as we were about to retire for the evening in Bethlehem, I received news of a sudden death in my girlfriend’s (now fiancée’s) family. Again, for the first time in my life, I felt the desperate inclination that someone has when they see someone they love in pain – the longing feeling of wanting to take their pain away.

I made plans to come home a few days early to attend services, which would mean missing the opportunity to walk the way of the Cross and to journey with Christ towards Calvary. I was upset, of course, but resolute in my decision to head home early.

As the trip progressed, I was blessed with a guide (and a Bishop) who were adamantly set on making sure I did not miss this holiest of holy sites. There was a catch, though: I would have to walk this journey alone, without the rest of my group.

For those of you who have not been to the Holy Land, I am sure you can understand that this pilgrimage is emotional, moving, and powerful. My fellow pilgrims and I were moved to tears with regularity and spent hours in the evenings discussing and reflecting on the wonders (and challenges) that we had seen. After visiting Mt. Tabor, the group was filled with a combination of dread and excitement – we knew the next stop was Jerusalem, and that would mean we finally coming face-to-face with the Lord’s passion and death. We were all nervous as to how we were going to react.

For me, I was anxious that I would feel “nothing” or “everything.” I was anxious that I would be too overwhelmed to deal with my emotions, or worse, that I would be unable to control my emotions and become an embarrassment to those around me.

I voiced this to the Bishop, who said to me: “Perhaps you were meant to walk this journey alone. Perhaps Christ has something to share with you.”

And so, I did. Our group was incredibly encouraging as we parted ways along the Way of the Cross, and our guide pointed down the street to where I must go. As I departed, I became more emotional, and as I took a step, I felt the crushing, physical, heavy weight of those intentions I had carried with me all week, of my anxieties, and of our recent loss.

The pain I felt was real. I am not speaking about anything metaphorical; I am talking about a physical, heavy burden on my shoulders. I felt it as I walked around with tears streaming down my face, slightly hunched over, and white as a ghost from lack of sleep. Remember that part about being afraid to make a scene? Well there I was, making a scene. Thankfully, nobody seemed to notice.

As I walked through the streets of Jerusalem, the burden seemed to grow heavier and heavier, and the tears continued to flow. I imagined what this must have looked like 2,000 years ago. I pictured the humiliation that Jesus had endured. I could not believe the cruelty, the evil, the injustice of it all! I was completely inconsolable.

Finally, I turned the corner and entered into the courtyard of the Church of the Holy Sepulcher. As I walked into the dark Church, I prepared myself for what was surely going to be an even more intense reaction. I took a deep breath, walked in, and then…

Nothing. I felt nothing.

The burden on my shoulders? Gone. The tears streaming down my face? Gone. I could not produce a tear if I tried. What was worse is that I was lost, confused, and faced with hundreds of tourists talking, laughing, and smiling.

I finally found my way to the site of the crucifixion and waited in a line around the corner. Now, I was angry. How could I feel nothing? I was in the spot that Christ suffered and died for MY sins. The place where my salvation itself was born! How could I feel nothing?

The nothingness lasted only until I rounded the corner and saw the stones of Golgotha, and the Crucifix hanging over the spot where our Lord died. The tears returned, and the burden was back. I wasn’t just sniffling. I was audibly, loudly, crying. So much so that right before it was my turn to venerate, the nun behind me put her hand on my shoulder and said in broken English “it’s okay! He lives!”

I knelt down to venerate the stone, almost out of necessity, for the burden was too heavy. “I can’t do it anymore,” I said, “It’s too much. How did you do this for all of humanity?”

At that, I felt the burden from my shoulders lifted, and my tears dry up. “Let me help you carry those,” I heard in the very depths of my soul. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

It seems I had confused nothingness with emptiness. The intentions were never mine, they belonged to Him. I was the vessel people used to get their prayers to the Holy Land and I let them overwhelm me. Now, face to face with the darkest place on earth, I realized, perhaps for the first time, the true meaning of Matthew 11:29.

“Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest.”

It took a trip to the place where Jesus died on the cross to understand how to let Him into my sufferings. It took touching the stones of Golgotha to understand that “giving it up to the Lord” was not just a platitude, it was the only way. God does not just want me to share with Him my joys and my triumphs, He wants to walk with me in my sufferings, in my faults, and in my failings. God does not allow me to suffer alone. In fact, I am never alone. God wants to help me through my sufferings. God wants me to know that even though suffering is inevitable, so too is the fact that suffering is not the end. For my journey to the Church of the Holy Sepulcher did not end at Calvary. It ended inside the Empty Tomb, and the joy there was radiant and indescribable.

But that is an experience to be shared at another time.

Today, Good Friday, we remember suffering. We remember death. We remember sacrifice. Most of all, we remember the great gift of freedom and peace and joy that His suffering gives to each of us.

By: John Grosso, Social Media Leader

Pope Francis has convened the 15th Synod of Bishops for this October. Perhaps you might remember the Diocesan Synod which the Diocese of Bridgeport experienced as a family of faith a few years ago. A Synod of Bishops brings together bishops from around the world, to discuss important topics in a fraternal way with the Pope, their brother bishop and leader. The 15th Synod has as its focus “young people, faith, and vocational discernment.” It is a vital topic in a time where many young people in the United States are disaffiliating with the Church, ceasing to practice or leaving altogether.

In his wisdom, Pope Francis has invited 300 young people from around the world to come together in Rome for one week as a pre-Synodal meeting – a gathering to prepare a document which will inform the Pope and Bishops’ work in October. “Another conference?” You might think. “Why is this relevant?”

What stands out about this week’s gathering is that it actually calls together the topics of the conversation to be protagonists of the conversation. It is authentic to actually bring the people that you are talking about to the table, and invite them to help shape the conversation in a way that is faithful to their lived experience. This is what Pope Francis did by asking us young people to be present this week: have a hand in the ways the Church will hear, understand, and engage with us.

What is striking to me, as one of the 300 participants, is how BIG the Church is. To spend my days with young people from sub-Saharan Africa, the furthest reaches of Asia, countries whose names I can’t pronounce – all living experiences I can only imagine. They see the Church through many lenses and live out their faith in many different ways. The global context of this occasion is so important for providing perspective: the issues which we think are of paramount importance can be far from the needs of our brothers and sisters.

Please pray for the work of this week’s gathering, where young people are leading the conversation in the Church in a new way. Come, Holy Spirit!

By: Nicole Perone, Synod Delegate

As a seminarian, I have had the privilege of having great spiritual directors. One of the first things that my spiritual directors have asked me, and continued to ask me throughout our meetings, was how frequently I went to confession. Before I entered seminary, I was going to confession every month and a half, sometimes even more infrequently. Not that that was bad, but considering that I was preparing to be a priest, I wanted to increase my exposure to confession and try to understand, on a more personal level, why my spiritual directors considered confession to be so special.

And what a difference it has made going to confession every two to three weeks! Before I considered confession to be more of an obligation than what it truly is: an opportunity to experience God’s mercy. Whenever I’m in line for confession, I try to imagine that I’m in line to meet God one on one. This is especially important to keep in mind as a seminarian since many priests in the diocese get to know us well and sometimes even recognize us simply by our voices. This is can be dangerous for me at times because I can easily let my pride get in the way of a good and holy confession. What I mean by this is that my pride can stop me from being completely honest with my confessor just because he may think less of me. However, this becomes less of a temptation once I tell myself that I am not simply confessing my sins to another human being, but rather to a God who is mercy and love.

I invite you then, to approach and trust our priests for the sacrament of confession, so that you too may experience our Lord’s mercy and love through them.

By: Guillermo Jiménez, Seminarian of the Diocese of Bridgeport

FAIRFIELD—Heavy winds and sideways hail is how Convivio began this year, much like the first which was held almost a decade ago in 2010. This year the annual high school retreat, with the theme “Made for More,” was kicked off with a nor’easter. One might describe this occurrence as “God humor,” as will be the last year Convivio will be held with the Fraternas; the Lord might have found it funny to bookend this era with winter storms.
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What is a sacrament? It is an outward sign of God’s grace instituted by Christ. I never really thought about this much, and even recently as I have grown old and withered, I haven’t thought much of that meaning of the word sacrament or the grace that comes from it.

But when I go to confession, the pastor will say to me. “Son, what are you doing with the grace you receive here?” And I never know how to answer him. Because in all honesty, what am I actually doing with the grace that I receive from this beautiful sacrament?

This sacrament, that provides a spiritual nourishment of renewal and acceptance. This sacrament that provides a gateway for unconditional love & mercy to flow from. This sacrament that allows our hearts to be rekindled and made pure with our Father.

This sacrament, that provides us with an abundance of grace! What in the heck am I doing with it?

That is my Lenten challenge, to use the grace to bring the light and love of Christ to others who have fallen away.

My friends, let us ask ourselves, what are we actually doing with this abundance of Grace poured out for us in the sacrament of reconciliation, and how can we use it to bring the light and love of Christ to others during this time of renewal & repentance during this season of Lent.

By: Mike Falbo, Youth Minister

This year’s dual feast of St. Valentine and Ash Wednesday is more than a mere coincidence. Both feasts are rooted in love. In fact, all of reality is rooted in God, the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end.  St. Valentine, a priest who was concerned with the state of sin of young soldiers living with women in an impure manner, sought to educate the soldiers and bless their unions. Ultimately, this cost him his life. He was killed by Emperor Claudius who forbade marriage for soldiers.  This love which was exhibited by St. Valentine is the same type of love Christ has for us.

Ash Wednesday leads us to a voyage of the greatest feast of sacrificial love. These two events (Valentine day and Ash Wednesday) have a deep relationship in self-sacrificing love and it has a message for us: true love self-sacrificing. True love is all about caring for one another in every context of life – in schools, hospitals, and most especially on the streets of our cities. This holy season of Lent, let us dedicate ourselves to loving our neighbor, especially those most in need. Let us not simply ‘play at’ Christianity, attending church but not genuinely wanting to repent. Let us spend Valentine’s Day in church, not restaurants, embracing the opportunity to draw ourselves closer to God.

By: Chidi Izuazu, Holy Land Pilgrim

I prayed a lot about a word that I would keep in mind during our pilgrimage to the Holy Land. The word abide came to mind early on in prayer. To sit, remain, dwell. With all that we would be seeing and doing, I realized how important it would be to be present in each moment and intentional at each holy site.

Being fully present proved to be the only way to fully grasp all of the wonder we experienced. Being fully present. To each other. To the holy sites. To Jesus.

Some of the moments that really stood out to me were when our group would read the passage of Scripture that coincided with the site we were visiting and we would have time to sit in quiet reflection. It was in those moments, in the places where Jesus walked, that peace surrounded us.

I thought about how I could apply this to my daily life when I returned home. In the Holy Land, walking the way of the Cross, it seems so simple…but back in our busy lives it becomes more difficult.

Abide. To sit, remain, dwell.

I’m learning this slow and hard. So many things fight for our attention.

But what is God asking from us? One day at a time. One small yes at a time. Obedience.

When we take time to be with Him in prayer, we can almost feel the breeze over the Sea of Galilee and see the sunset at Capernaum. And we realize that it is His presence that is always with us, no matter where we are. It is His love, which fills us with peace, in which we must abide.

By: Libby Clyons, Holy Land Pilgrim

When our group set out on our pilgrimage to the Holy Land a few weeks ago, we each had our own ideas about what we would get out of the trip. Some of these ideas were vague, some specific, but all were more or less centered on the theme of walking in the footsteps of Jesus Christ. This is the natural direction our thoughts take when we contemplate visiting the sites where the events of the Gospels took place.

And so we began our journey on the Feast of the Epiphany, staggering jet-lagged and bleary-eyed into Bethlehem. The wise men who had also traveled from distant lands to see the Christ child no doubt knew something of that exhaustion as well. Each of us has likely felt at some point that our life-long journey through this world can be tiring. But all the fatigue, the crowds, the seemingly endless waiting that we pilgrims were met with that evening culminated in silent veneration in a little grotto. To see, to touch, to kiss the place where our Heavenly King was born – this was worth all the difficulty of getting there.

“But why,” I couldn’t help thinking, “was the King born? Why did he come?” And knowing where and how our journey would end in Jerusalem, I could answer my own question, “He was born so that he could die.”

This would be the theme of my own reflection at every place we visited – Christ’s life as a journey towards his death. He took on flesh in his mother’s womb, in a little house in Nazareth, so that he could suffer in the flesh for our transgressions. Mary nursed and cared for her little child so tenderly, Joseph protected him so fiercely, so that he could die an ignominious death at the appointed time. He called his apostles on the shores of the Sea of Galilee, worked his miracles in Capernaum, and taught the people throughout the region the ways of the Lord, all so that they might believe, take up their crosses, and follow him, being baptized into a death like his.

Jesus Christ came into this world in order to die. If we are to follow in his footsteps, that means following him into the depths of darkness and suffering. It means following him into the tomb.

Which is exactly what our little band of pilgrims did as we came to Jerusalem at last. On Thursday we visited Gethsemane, the place of Our Lord’s agony and of his arrest, where the Passion began. We saw the ruins of the high priest’s house as well, the place of Peter’s denial, and we descended into the cistern where Jesus was held prisoner overnight, to meditate on the words of Psalm 88: “Thou hast put me in the depths of the Pit, in the regions dark and deep. Thy wrath lies heavy upon me…”

But we were in that pit together, fellow disciples following our master, and there was comfort in that. We Christians have the consolation of suffering together as members of the Church. We have the consolation of knowing Our Lord has gone before us into the darkness, and accompanies us in any trial. He took that wrath upon himself. When we follow him into the tomb, we do not go alone.

Friday morning we walked the surprisingly short Way of the Cross, from the site of Christ’s condemnation to death at Pilate’s palace to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, where he was crucified, died, and was buried. Each of us carried wooden crosses as we went – little ones that were easily held in one hand, but symbols of greater things. Each of us shared a reflection on one of the stations as we walked in Our Lord’s footsteps to Calvary, together.

When we came to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre it was only mid-morning, and the church was relatively uncrowded – so different from our experience in Bethlehem mere days earlier, in so many ways. But one had led to the other, for Our Lord and for us. We had walked with him from the crèche to the cross. Somberly, quietly, we processed from the hill of the crucifixion to the stone of anointing, and at last into the tomb itself.

The Dominican friar who served as our guide that week had referred to the tomb as “the one place in the world where Jesus is not”. And in a sense that is very true – because the tomb, of course, is empty. It is the unique place where Our Lord’s absence is more significant than his presence. Christ did not remain in the tomb. It was not the end of his story, and neither was it really the end of our journey.

When all of us had gone into the tomb, and come out, we went to the little side chapel and celebrated Our Lord’s resurrection with the Holy Mass. St. John Paul II famously said of the Church, “We are an Easter people,” and it was that Easter Sunday joy that we proclaimed on a Friday in ordinary time.

Jesus Christ did not remain in the tomb, and if we are to follow in his footsteps, then neither can we. We must enter into it together, acknowledging our sins and enduring our trials, but together we must also come out again. We are baptized into Christ’s death so that we can share in his resurrection. We step out of the darkness of sin into the light of grace, pass through death into a new creation.

And then the journey really begins.

By: Catherine Costanzo, Holy Land Pilgrim

On January 5th a group of “strangers” and I embarked on a pilgrimage to the Holy Land, and our lives were forever changed. Each stop was more breathtaking and moving than the next.

When January 13th came along, and It was time for the trip to end, the “strangers” I had only met once before the trip were now my close friends. A lot of us were in denial of that fact we were going home and spent the majority of the 12 hour flight stopping by each others seats, talking about how we would adjust to our normal lives when we got home.

What we are all realizing now is, though the trip is over, each of our journeys are just beginning. We have to figure out how to live out the Gospel in our day to day lives.

Something we all talked about right before we left is we are in the same spot, physically and mentally, that the disciples were in. They had to figure out what they were going to do next. They had to get the courage to step out and be the witness’ they were called to be, which is exactly what my fellow Pilgrims and I are called to do right now.

If the disciples were able to say, “Yes.” to God and carry out the word, I pray we find that same strength within ourselves to say, “Yes” to God every day.

By: Marcelle Morrisey, Recent Young Adult Holy Land Pilgrim

“What are you looking for?”

This was the focal point of our pilgrimage. That throughout this journey, open our hearts, open our minds, and discover the answer to the question that tugs at the center of our lives.

In the grotto at the Church of Annunciation, the place where Our Lady said, “YES” to the will of God, I found myself falling prostrate, hands covering my heart, and saying, “O Mary conceived without sin, pray for us who have recourse to thee.” It was in these thirteen words that my answer began to form. I am searching for a way to draw more closely to the heart of Christ. I want to conform myself to His will, transform myself into a being that says, “FIAT”, and that says, “I am your servant O Lord.” This can only be done by asking the intercession of Our Blessed Mother. St Louis de Montfort says, “To Jesus through Mary.” To draw near to His heart, to completely and totally transform ourselves, the path leads through Our Lady.

This pinnacle moment happened at the beginning of our journey. And thankfully, I was able to apply it to the rest of the pilgrimage. As I approached every holy site, I would offer that moment & encounter up to Our Lord, say a Hail Mary, and begin to draw near to Him.

Let us ask the Lord, that by His Mother, we may be more able to draw near to the Sacred Heart of Christ.

By: Mike Falbo

Youth Minister and Holy Land Pilgrim

I’ve always loved tradition. Even when I was little, Christmas wasn’t complete without going to Mass with my family, lighting the Advent wreath, and driving around to see beautiful luminary displays.

As I’ve grown older, the traditions of the Advent and Christmas seasons are still important to me, although they have now taken on a deeper meaning.

One tradition that my family and I have always shared centers on the Nativity scene. We place the baby Jesus in the manger on Christmas Day (along with an off-key rendition of Happy Birthday). The placement of Jesus in the manger signifies the completion of the Nativity scene that has been awaiting its missing piece. Just like the Nativity scene, I have been awaiting the birth of Our Lord throughout the Advent season. On Christmas Day, the waiting and preparation of Advent is over, and the Lord has come into my heart once more. Now the real celebrations can begin.

During the time in between Christmas and the Epiphany, the Church celebrates both the Feast of the Holy Family (Sunday, December 31st) and the Solemnity of the Blessed Virgin Mary, Mother of God (Monday, January 1st). As I gaze upon the Nativity scene, I remember the Holy Family, Mary’s “yes” and Saint Joseph’s willing obedience.

On the Epiphany we add the wise men to the scene, the Magi who traveled from afar to gaze upon the face of the Messiah. Adding and praying about these different elements of the Nativity scene help me enter in to the season in a very real and tangible way.

It is hard not to get caught up in all that the secular world offers at Christmas time, but being Catholic, I know that our celebration is just beginning. We celebrate the birth of Christ into our world and into our hearts. Instead of taking down all the decorations the moment the last present is unwrapped… this year, I will linger over the humble manger a bit longer.

By: Libby Cylons

“How can this be?” These are the words we hear Mary respond to the Angel in Luke’s Gospel, when he informs her that she will conceive the Messiah. (Not big news or anything, right?) This is frequently my response to many moments in life that catch me by surprise or change my plans. I often find myself focusing less on what God wants from me in that moment, and more on the details – maybe it wasn’t what I wanted, what I expected, or what I had prepared for. The thing is, the phrase Mary responds with is not the end of her story. 

While we, in our humanity, get caught up in control of our lives, Mary shows us even in her humanity, the great ending that can come from trusting God. Mary continues, “Behold, I am the handmaiden of the Lord. Be it done to me according to your word.” In other words, “God, I’m here to serve you. Do whatever you wish with my life.” She doesn’t stop in the details. She submits to the fact that maybe, just maybe, God has something incredible in store for her. Mary, especially during advent, teaches me to wait with joy, rather that anxiety, or distrust. She left us all with the perfect example of humility: it’s okay to ask questions – of course! Yet if we remain faithful, with an open heart, God might reveal himself to us. That, it seems, is much better than my own plans.”

By: Jessica Mazal

30 of us began our pilgrimage to NCYC from the Bridgeport Diocese to Yonkers. What a beautiful surprise to worship at the St. Joseph’s Seminary with approximately 90 more pilgrims. We would embark together on two buses through the night.

Feeling God’s presence at the onset set the tone for our group as we gradually became comfortable and closed our eyes trusting that God was guiding our drivers.

Teens are fearless in meeting other people especially 25 thousand other teens who would soon be decorating each other with pins, hats, bracelets, clothespins and of course free hugs!

Hope was everywhere!

The theme of the NCYC 2017 is called. What does it mean to be called? Through workshops, music, the saints, Mary, scripture and the Cross, we were all called to experience conversion in every activity and every encounter during these 3 ½ days together.

We were brought from a sense of uncertainty perhaps even for some brokenness to encounter deliberate change. It was just a matter of recognizing that Christ calls us in our hearts. He teaches us, forgives us, redeems us and challenges us for more. He calls us to serve, to pray, to love.

Throughout our praise and worship the message to be called was alive in our music from hard-core contemporary to monks chanting and every kind of music in between. But no where was the excitement more prevalent than in the hearts and actions of the 25K teenagers who could be found praying, singing and dancing and in silence adoring our Lord Jesus Christ.

What exactly are these teens looking for? Simply, they seek the meaning of their lives. Why did they come to Indy? They are hungry for direction. Therefore, I came to NCYC as a chaperone, to have the opportunity to bring youth to a place of direction. The youth is today’s church. For 3 days, I witnessed todays church hungry for more. I was a chaperone turned participant.

25K teens worked together in the thematic village climbing together, balancing together, hanging from ropes together, writing prayers for others, preparing meal bags. What an infectious energy! And what a testimony of a strong church.

My most profound moment was when all youth directors were asked to stand and pray for the youth we brought to NCYC. What a grace it was to pray for them and then to look out at 25K and pray for them.

During an uncertain time in our world, a world in distress, there it was, hope among our youth from all over the country in Lucas Oil Stadium. Hearts on fire, teens ready to bring the message of the gospels to others, teens eager to serve the needs of social justice issues. Teens whose hearts belong to Him the almighty. Teens who say yes to Jesus.

Changed because He calls every day for us to be more.

By: