The gift of listening |Day in the life RCD

Hello RCD readers,

There is a quiet beauty in how strangers sometimes interact with us. I’ve come to realize—though I didn't always see it in myself—that I have a way of making people feel comfortable, peaceful, and open. It’s an ability to create a space where someone feels at home, free to just be themselves and share a piece of their heart. I truly consider it a gift from God. Over the years, people have often opened up or confessed things to me in ways you wouldn't expect someone to do with a stranger.

Today was one of those days.

Someone approached me, remarking that I felt like a little mystery he wanted to solve. He noticed my rosary held in my hands and asked, "Are you religious?"

When I said yes, the questions began to pour out. "Do you believe in heaven? That there's a man up there with a long beard who tells you who goes to heaven or hell?" As he spoke, I could hear a sense of loss beneath his words—a deep, persistent urge to really know God, paired with the frustration of having searched for so long without finding peace.

He shared how he had tried to understand the universe through every lens imaginable: studying quantum physics, exploring different beliefs, reading into the history of Catholicism, and examining how Christianity was historically forced upon African ancestors by Europeans. He spoke about pastors who exploit people for money, making religion look less like the Word of God and more like a business.

I sat and I listened. My hands stayed wrapped around my rosary. I didn't interrupt or debate him, because there was truth in what he was saying. I am not blind to any of it. I know the history. I know the Bible as we have it today doesn't contain every single thing. I know there are preachers who have done wrong, and I know there are people in my own Christian and Catholic community who do not act of God.

When we put God’s word solely into the hands of human rules and regulations, confusion and corruption always follow. In fact, if you read the Bible, those exact same human struggles and conflicts were happening back then, too—people trying to spread the word while introducing their own man-made intentions.

So when he asked if I believed God was going to stand there judging who goes to heaven or hell, I simply answered: "I don't know."

He was shocked. So many people offer rigid certainty, but to me, that detail isn't the point.

I told him what I do know. I believe in Jesus Christ—that He sacrificed Himself for our sins, and that He is our Creator, Father, Protector, and Savior. Everything else built around that core is human. I go to church because I feel His presence there. Holding my rosary gives me peace. Whatever happens around me, I remain calm because I know who takes care of me and who protects me. True belief in God isn't tested when everything is easy; it strengthens when you have nothing else to rely on, and He is the one you hold onto.

Everyone’s journey with God is completely different. By the end of our conversation, he complimented me, saying I was intelligent—simply because I was open enough to listen without rebuttal, validating the truth in his words while remaining grounded in my own conviction.

Faith isn’t about winning an argument or denying history's flaws. Sometimes, it’s just about holding space, staying peaceful in what you know to be true, and letting another traveler know their search is heard.