A Heart Transplant and Happiness

From Dunedin, New Zealand to Santiago, Chile, God wanted a heart of flesh, and His power surpasses what we can think or even ask for. In reality, I never wanted to be a priest. But God willed it. And now I couldn’t be happier.

Every story has a beginning… but we don’t know the end.

You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you so that you might go and bear fruit—fruit that will last. John 15:16

I was born in Dunedin, New Zealand, in 1987. I am the third of four children, a big twin, so for ten minutes I escaped being the youngest. My family has always been religious, by New Zealand standards.

I always had the example of living faith and the search for Jesus from my parents, Juan and Teresa. However, I must admit that my own life of faith was more external: it consisted of following rules but not loving the person who is at the center and gives meaning to being Christian, Jesus. But God takes care of these details over time.

Looking back, I thought about becoming a priest only once: briefly, for no more than three days. It was when I saw the ordination of a young man to the diaconate, when I thought: “that is something truly noble and heroic.” But that thought quickly passed. There were other ways to be noble and heroic that attracted me more.

My parents were members of the Regnum Christi movement in the early 1990s, and in 1998, a priest from the Legionaries of Christ, Father Emilio Díaz-Torre, visited Dunedin and gave an explanation about what ECYD was. It seemed like a good idea: a youth group of Catholic friends, doing fun activities together, and I decided to join this group.

That year, my brother Simon went to a summer camp run by the Legionaries in 1998. There he was fascinated by something called “the apostolic school,” a minor seminary. He returned saying he felt called to be a priest. My mother thought it was a fleeting thought based on how fun the summer camp had been. But Simon proved to my mother and the rest of our family that such a thought was not so fleeting. When he returned from the summer camp, Simon was attending Mass every day, rain or shine, with the family or alone on his bike. He really wanted to go, and a year later he headed to the apostolic school in New Hampshire.

The Apostolic School

You have seduced me, Lord, and I have let myself be seduced; you have been stronger than I, and you have prevailed. Jeremiah 20:7

I had an experience similar to Jeremiah’s. Being homeschooled, any distraction was always welcome. So, when in early 2001, the phone rang, I ran to answer it. Simon was calling. That year he was graduating from the apostolic school and entering the Legionaries’ novitiate. He asked if I wanted to go to New Hampshire—and my ear was selective, because I heard “summer camp.” Of course, I said: who wouldn’t want to go on an international adventure and miss a month and a half of school (New Zealand’s holidays are in December and January). He also asked my twin, but for different reasons, my twin said no. Then a form arrived. They asked why I wanted to be a priest… I realized that what I thought was a summer camp was actually a summer course for young men wanting to become priests. I remember very clearly my answer to that specific question on the form: I wrote “I don’t know, but I am open to being a priest if God wills it,” and left the rest of the page blank.

I went to the apostolic school intending to have a good time and then return. However, my mother was crying on the way to the airport. I thought her reaction was strange: I was supposed to come back. But when I arrived there, although the other young men didn’t always understand my English, I felt at home, in a family made up of people from all over the United States. That’s the only explanation I can give. I wanted to stay there and felt called to be a Legionary of Christ. But this decision by a 14-year-old would take many years of discernment.

Early Years of Formation

In 2004, when I graduated from the apostolic school, I entered the Legionaries of Christ novitiate in Cheshire, Connecticut. I remember those two years of struggle: I knew deep down that God was calling me to be a Legionary, but I didn’t want to. I remember asking to leave the novitiate in 2005, and the instructor said “Go ahead.” I didn’t expect that response. I broke down crying: I knew I wouldn’t be leaving for genuine discernment. And then I said I didn’t really want to leave. Later that same year, the instructor told me something that had always stuck with me. He said: “God wants you to be happy. You’re not happy here. Maybe you should leave.” I broke down crying again. I knew why I wasn’t happy: I was trying to be perfect on the outside, but I wasn’t letting my heart change, clinging to small things that God was trying to detach me from. The reason I wasn’t happy was myself, not God.

But God has His ways. I made my first profession on September 2, 2006. The last months of the novitiate were moments of great growth. The two years after my profession, during the humanities, the stage of formation where we studied classical humanities, was a period of peace. I was happy and busy with various projects. I remember that at the end of my studies, I was working on connecting a phone for a conference when I met my future rector. I left the room and bumped into him. He was looking for altars to celebrate Mass and asked me in Spanish where they were. I said something like “Down the hallway, under the stairs,” because my Spanish wasn’t very good. He responded, laughing, in English: “Don’t worry. My English is as bad as your Spanish.” Little did I know that in two months I would be in his community.

After completing the humanities, in 2008 I was sent to Rome to study philosophy and work at the General Directorate, the headquarters of the Legionaries of Christ. I had a great time and truly flourished during those two years. Part of that was because I had the blessing of living with priests and brothers of different ages and levels of formation. It was also in Rome where I first learned about the double life of our founder, including that the serious accusations against him might be true, and that the Legion was going to have an apostolic visitation. I remember thinking: “Now is the perfect time to leave. No one would question you.” But again, in the chapel, another thought arose: “Great, but where is God in this idea? What does God want?” And I again felt certain that God was calling me to be a Legionary… wherever He would lead me.

After working in the secretariat, I was surprised to learn that for my apostolic practices I would go to Atlanta to be secretary at the U.S. Territorial Headquarters. I remember making a bet with a brother who had told me I would be secretary. I told him I would pray a rosary for him if he ended up going to a secretariat. I was sure I wouldn’t go. But God has His ways.

I was very busy as a secretary. I guess I did a good job and was involved in many things. I felt I was truly flourishing. Also, I was the personal secretary of Father Luis Garza, L.C., whose priestly example left a deep impact on me.

Perpetual Profession and Rome

I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit within you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh. Ezekiel 36:26

After two years of practical training, I made my perpetual profession on September 1, 2012, in Cheshire. Before professing my vows, I discerned extensively whether God was calling me to be a Legionary, amidst the crisis of the Legion. After much prayer and consultation with other Legionaries, priests of other religious orders, and laity, I felt certain that yes, I had been called to be a Legionary. The initial moment of feeling “at home” in the apostolic school had matured and withstood several storms to know that this was what God wanted.

That moment of my perpetual profession became a beacon for me the following year. Because another storm came. The busyness of being a secretary and other reasons led me through a few months that I later discovered were a slight burnout and depression. Those months were marked by darkness and struggle. I remember the relief I felt when I found out I was returning to Rome. But I also knew I was going to the International College, not the General Directorate: it was something new and massive, with 400 seminarians and priests in different communities. Although it was initially difficult to adapt to the size and the challenge of not being busy, I now consider it a blessing to have gone to the College. It was a kind of new beginning. I was no longer focused on doing things for God, but rather on being formed by God. There, too, many brothers were placed in my path by God—a path that was nothing other than a heart transplant. Because God worked in my heart.

The new heart was a transformation from trying to be a “perfect” religious—who fulfilled everything with much voluntarism—to striving at least to be a religious who loves Jesus and his brothers; from being someone who tried to cling to or control everything, to someone who at least tries to surrender and let God guide him.

I remember discovering Henri Nouwen’s books The Wounded Healer and Life of the Beloved. God spoke to me through them. Another important moment was when, during a month of spiritual exercises, I accidentally discovered Saint Thérèse of Lisieux and her spirituality, a spirituality some call the spirituality of imperfection. God also called me to experience this in new and deeper ways that, with the help of my spiritual director, Father Alex Yeung, L.C., I was able to discover and respond to.

I believe it is so easy for an Anglo-Saxon to subtly think that God loves us if we love Him. And we love Him by obeying His commands. But we cannot earn, much less “win,” God’s love. We are loved unconditionally, despite and through everything. This heart change, from stone to flesh, is also more tender and hurts more. But God wants a priest to be a man of God, a man with a heart of Christ who feels joy and pain.

In my last year of theology, another important event took place. A good brother and friend, Brother Anthony Freeman, L.C., died suddenly, just a few months before his diaconate ordination. His death and his example had a profound impact on many Legionaries and on my entire generation.

The Ways of God

That Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith, so that, being rooted and grounded in love, you may comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ which surpasses knowledge, that you may be filled with all the fullness of God.

After finishing theology, on August 6, 2018, I was ordained a deacon in my hometown by Bishop Michael Dooley. It was a very special and simple ceremony. Looking back over these 17 years since I left Dunedin, I remember what Saint Paul wrote to the Ephesians, where he says that God can do “immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine” (Eph 3:20). God wants us all to be happy. And He can do this in ways that go beyond what we can think or ask. These past few months as a deacon in Santiago, Chile, have emphasized this. God is so great that He can change our hearts—and much more. He only asks for our yes.