When Your Calling Makes People Uncomfortable: Loving the Church, Speaking the Truth, and Following Christ Even When It Costs You

+JMJ+ I’m no expert on human psychology, but I think I’m fairly good at reading body language and reading between the lines of conversations. One thing I’ve noticed over the years is that I sometimes make people uncomfortable, particularly my fellow Catholics.

When people learn my story (and I don’t go around sharing it all the time, but my name has been out there long enough that many people put two and two together), their reactions tend to fall into a few categories. Some are genuinely supportive and compassionate. Others become noticeably standoffish. And some seem almost completely repulsed.

I find that people sometimes act differently around me. Why?

Perhaps it’s because I speak openly and honestly about things many would rather ignore. Perhaps it’s because some Catholics struggle to understand that you can speak out against corruption, demand accountability, and advocate for survivors while still deeply loving the Church.

I’ve also noticed that people sometimes engage with me for reasons that have little to do with who I actually am. Some might follow my work or purchase a book because they feel sorry for me. Others seem excited to know me because they view me as some sort of important connection, assuming I must know certain people or have some kind of influence. In a way, at times I have been treated almost like a low-key celebrity by some.

Then there are those who simply aren’t comfortable with anyone who questions Church leadership or challenges them to confront the difficult realities they would rather not see. It’s incredibly humbling to acknowledge that you may have been wrong about someone—to recognize that a person you trusted, admired, or believed to be one way was actually quite different. That’s a difficult truth we sometimes have to face. Predators don’t just groom their victims. They can groom entire communities. They manipulate perceptions, build trust, and create an environment in which people are reluctant to question them. No one is immune to that kind of manipulation, and acknowledging it requires humility, honesty, and a willingness to confront uncomfortable truths.

I wish more people understood that you can love the Church while also advocating for healing, justice, and truth.

I will always strive to speak the truth. I do my best to do so with love, charity, and prudence, but I will not pretend something is okay when it isn’t. I’m not simply repeating nice ideas or offering feel-good messages. I know my faith. I love my faith. I don’t pick and choose from a cafeteria line based on what happens to suit me.

I love the Catholic Church. I also love my parish. That is perhaps one of the most difficult things to explain to people.

This is the very parish where I was abused and betrayed—not just by one man, but by a significant part of a community I once trusted. There are layers to that kind of betrayal that are difficult to put into words. Continuing to walk through those church doors hasn’t always been easy. Honestly, it’s only by the grace of God that I still do.

I used to worry that everyone was looking at me, wondering what they thought or whether they knew my story. Over time, something changed. I don’t think about it nearly as much anymore. I’m not there for them. I’m there for Christ. 

Something has kept me at this parish, and I’m grateful for that, even when I don’t fully understand it, but that doesn’t mean it’s always easy. Entering a church can still be painful. There are days when I leave Mass and find myself needing to take a few deep breaths, almost as though I’m trying to steady myself again before moving on with the rest of my day.

That’s part of the reality of healing. Loving your faith doesn’t mean every experience within the Church is painless. Remaining in the Church doesn’t mean pretending you weren’t wounded by people within it. Choosing to stay doesn’t mean the hurt simply disappears.

Despite my own wishes at times, God has called me to a rather unique role within the Church. It’s not easy, and it’s certainly not glamorous. People have no idea how much I struggle with it, how often I feel like I don’t quite fit in, or how much it hurts to be misunderstood by people who share the very faith I love.

In some people’s eyes, I’m probably “bad for business” because I’m not afraid to point out flaws when necessary. I’m not afraid to ask difficult questions or say things that aren’t always comfortable to hear.

I’m very much an introvert, but God has pulled me out of my comfort zone time and time again, asking me to do things I never would have chosen for myself.

It’s difficult to navigate this calling. Sometimes people appreciate certain things I have to say but consider me extreme or unreasonable when I speak about other issues. Perhaps they listen because they feel sorry for me rather than because they genuinely respect what I have to say. I don’t always know, but I do know that being misunderstood, judged, or quietly dismissed takes its toll at times. It’s hard. It hurts. I’ve been hurt more times than I can count.

Ultimately, this isn’t about me. Following Christ and answering His call isn’t about being liked, accepted, understood, or applauded. It’s about being faithful.

I don’t always get it right. I have plenty of room to grow, and I certainly don’t claim to have all the answers, but I want to keep saying yes to God, even when that yes comes with a cost.

I would much rather be uncomfortable following where He leads than comfortable ignoring what He asks of me.

I never want to lose sight of the fact that this calling is not about making a name for myself or being liked. It’s about serving Him.

May we always ask God for the grace to recognize His calling in our lives, the courage to follow where He leads, and the faithfulness to persevere even when the road is difficult.