Last year, I stopped going to Mass for a few months - this is why I came back

I always try to sit in the first or second row when I go to church. It helps me stay focused on the priest’s homily and keeps my thoughts from drifting. But when I end up farther back, my attention shifts to the people in front of me—especially unfamiliar faces. I start wondering about their stories, what led them here on this particular morning, and how they see our little church. This past Sunday, I caught myself doing just that as I watched a beautiful family in the front row, gathered in celebration of their teenage daughter receiving her first communion.

My heart warmed as I observed them, and I couldn’t help but create little narratives about each family member. I wondered who they were and how they felt about this significant moment. In particular, I noticed a gentleman who remained seated for much of the Mass. He seemed quietly engaged but perhaps unfamiliar with the service.

I fondly recalled my own experience attending my first Mass in college, where I felt overwhelmed by all the standing, sitting, kneeling, and a sense of bewilderment. When I began attending Mass regularly after college, I remember getting tears in my eyes when the priest raised the body and blood of Christ. Still, it took me seven years to become a member of the Catholic Church. And I love my Catholic faith even more, after nearly 40 years, than when I entered at the age of 26.

When Father Jakob called us forward for Communion, he reminded everyone that those who hadn’t attended a Catholic Mass before and wouldn’t be receiving the Eucharist could come forward for a blessing by simply crossing their arms over their chests.

As I watched the family in the front row approach our priest, I was happily surprised when the gentleman joined his family in line and crossed his arms for a blessing. As I stood a few people behind him, I felt a wave of gratitude. When it was my turn, I knelt to receive Communion, returned to my pew, and prayed.

I asked God to bless that gentleman, hoping he could come to see Christ as I have seen Christ in the Catholic Church. I also thought of my brother, who's an ardent atheist. I prayed that God would reach him, revealing Himself a loving and kind, who accepts each of us just as we are, not the distorted image of God my brother perceived as foisted from pulpits for political or financial gain.

Last year, I stopped going to church for a few months. This decision was not about losing my relationship with God; rather, it was marked by a deep longing for understanding. During that time, I prayed wholeheartedly, asking God to keep me close and guide me back. The reason I distanced myself from the Church was tied to my feelings about the Catholic Church’s response to the sexual abuse scandal.

I found it hard to reconcile my faith with the pain caused by hidden abuses and the silence surrounding them. I struggled to understand how those who led the Church could make such profound errors and still expect us to follow their moral authority without question.

It's still a painful source of anger and disappointment for me, and I can't help but sympathize with those who feel lost or hurt by similar church experiences. I didn’t want to leave the Catholic Church because it is where I feel most at home, spiritually, in my relationship with Christ. The belief in Christ's real presence in the Eucharist is incredibly important to me; it is indeed what keeps me anchored in my faith.

The Eucharist ultimately brought me back to the Church. In the past month, I have begun attending Mass again regularly. But I have changed my view of the moral authority of our priests, bishops, cardinals, and pope because I’ve never heard a Catholic priest adequately explain why they covered up sexual abuse of children for decades. Sadly, the adage, ‘do as I say, not as I do’, still rings in my ears.

I returned to the Church for Christ in the Eucharist, and the beauty of that sacred sacrifice fills my heart. So when the gentleman sought a blessing on Sunday morning, I wished that for him. And I wish that for my brother. I hope that Christ will reveal Himself to him, guiding him toward a meaningful relationship.

When my mother left our home in Evergreen, Colorado, nine years before she passed away, to return to Fort Lauderdale, she immediately reconnected with her Presbyterian church, despite the 20 years she spent attending Catholic Mass with me when we lived together. Her home church was her spiritual home, a place where she felt accepted and loved.

And that is the message I want most to share today…if you stopped going to church because of a priest or minister or your anger with the way you or others were treated, I invite you to look beyond the sinful nature of man and to the faultless love of Christ for you.

What matters most is the personal relationship we have with Jesus Christ.

That relationship begins when we surrender our lives to Christ and accept His love—an unconditional love that enables us to let go of our burdens and mistakes.

Christ’s love for us began in the Beginning and stretches through Eternity. His love for us will never waver, we only have to say, yes, Lord. We are on our journey, and as we go, let’s remember that we are already dearly loved by Christ.