Why am I a priest...

August 14th has come and past and it has been a year since the Church in a fit of what I call madness decided to make a Priest of me.

More often than not I have wondered why I am a Priest. More than a few times I have felt like letting go of this terrible, holy, joyous burden. In truth I was happier as a Deacon, content to keep candles trim, order supplies, handle censers, and stay in the background. I've been up front before, in the lights. It not what it is cracked up to be. Not by a long shot. And I still dislike people kissing my hand even though I know its not about me.

I think I am a fairly odd choice for a Priest. I can think of dozens who are smarter, better versed in liturgics, holier, and more suited for this work than I am. I often feel out of my league, over my head, and hanging on for the ride. I can't imagine ever getting used to all of this, like it would be something normal or routine. I can't also imagine myself as the Priest in charge of some successful million dollar Parish because I'm too rough around the edges and a sucker for stray cats and stray churches.

All I know is that people need Jesus. The world is absolutely nuts and the only sanity, love, truth, peace, hope, health, and salvation is found in him. Period. My path to all of that is messy as hell but I have some idea of my need and I can think of nothing worse than crawling through this bizarre life chasing after meaningless things only to discover that it's a loss and emptiness that could last forever. That bothers me. But being a Priest allows me to do something about it.

So it's one day at a time, now 366 and counting...