“Jesus saw a great crowd, felt compassion for them, for they were like sheep without a shepherd” (Mk 6:34)
“Do not be afraid of Christ! He takes nothing away and gives everything. Whoever gives himself to Him receives a hundredfold. Yes, open wide the doors to Christ, and you will find true life” (Benedict XVI, 04/24/2005)
The Gospel of Mark tells us that one day Jesus was about to withdraw with his disciples to rest after days of intense mission. Everything was going well until then, but just as they were all in the boat, a crowd appeared on the horizon, eagerly seeking Jesus. I can perfectly imagine the indignant look on the apostles’ faces. Jesus, instead of ignoring them, looks at them with infinite love and has compassion for them, for He saw them as sheep without a shepherd (Cf. Mk 6:30-44).
“You seduced me, Lord, and I let myself be seduced” (Jr 20:7)
The story of how I felt the call of God is nothing extraordinary; a messenger angel never appeared to tell me what God wanted from me; I never saw a candle go out as a sign of confirmation, nor anything like that. I simply gradually discovered through prayer and with the help of a spiritual guide that perhaps God was calling me to a unique and exclusive surrender to Him and, in Him and through Him, to all others. I arrived at this conclusion by reflecting on my life, listening to the deepest longings of my heart, reviewing my story and the talents God gifted me in the light of God. What was the triggering moment for questioning whether God wanted me as a priest?
It was during some evangelization missions carried out by members of Youth Missionary in Vélez, Santander, in 2001, the year I met the Legion of Christ. During visits to families, I was moved by the thirst for God in so many people and how the presence of missionaries among them represented the way God wanted to touch their hearts, listen to them, understand them, embrace them, be close to them in their successes and difficulties.
During house visits, we invited people to approach the sacrament of confession, as the Legionary priest accompanying us would dedicate a day of the missions to hear confessions starting at eight in the morning. The day arrived, and I was struck by the number of people who came to confess. The priest began hearing confessions while we continued visiting houses.
At noon, when we missionaries were about to have lunch, we realized that the priest had not arrived. So I went to the church to look for him so he could eat with us. Upon entering the church, I was very surprised, because there were still many people waiting to confess, and only the Legionary priest was confessing at that moment. I approached him and told him that I could notify the people that confessions were suspended and they could come back later. But the priest told me he wanted to stay, because those people had come all this way to encounter God’s mercy, that I should bring him a bread and a soda, and he would continue hearing confessions and eat in the brief moments between confessions.
I remember being deeply amazed by the example of that priest. It seemed to me a very beautiful attitude, and I sensed that this man had a very great awareness of the value of a single soul. Returning to the dining area, I crossed the chapel, looked at the crucifix in the church, then turned my head and saw the people waiting for confession. Then, like a cascade, the following thoughts arose in my mind and heart: I wish there were more priests here hearing confessions; if I were a priest, I would want to be like that priest confessing; could I become a priest?
Years later, I revisited that moment in my life and identified it with that passage from the Gospel I mentioned at the beginning. In some way, I also saw that the harvest was plentiful and the laborers few, and I felt inside that Christ, through me, should continue to be the shepherd for those sheep.
The joy and inner peace I experienced during those missions, and in others afterward, led me to think that my heart had been created by God for that. I discussed these feelings with my spiritual director, and gradually, over a year and a half of discernment, the idea that God wanted me as a priest matured in my heart.
As part of that discernment process, I visited the Legion of Christ Novitiate in Medellín. From the very first moment I arrived, I was struck by the joyful atmosphere, the youthfulness of the novices, and I felt at home. A few months later, I returned for another retreat, doubting the excitement of that first experience, and confirmed that I felt and experienced the same. So I decided to enter the postulancy that began on December 3, 2002.
“The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear?” (Ps 27:1)
The time in the novitiate was a great grace from God. After completing this period, I made my temporary profession of vows. After a few months, I moved to Spain in 2005 to continue my formation, and there the first particularly difficult moment came. Suddenly, I found myself thousands of kilometers away from my family, my beloved land, surrounded by people from other countries and cultures. I realized what it truly meant to follow Christ on this path. I remember thinking that perhaps I would not be able to endure such uprooting. And when my heart was stormed with doubts, I had a moment of prayer before the Blessed Sacrament, I opened my doubts to the Lord, and there, in the chapel, I understood that on this path there was Someone who was steady, my rock (as the psalms call it), who was with me in Colombia and now was before me in Spain, and who had promised to be with me every day until the end (cf. Mt 28:20). Words are not enough to describe the peace I felt at that moment. I cried tears of joy. I felt that, in some way, my heart must be rooted in Christ and only in Him. From then on, I have greatly enjoyed getting to know other cultures, people from different countries, I have longed more for my homeland, and I have formed very deep bonds with my loved ones. So, this was a difficult but immensely wonderful moment.
“Do not be afraid, for I am with you” (Is 41:10)
That same year, the Lord gave me another experience that confirmed me in my path. During autumn, I went with some companions to a town in the Salamanca province. The parish priest had asked us to visit homes and invite people to one of the parish celebrations. Suddenly, we arrived at a house and knocked, but no one opened. We were about to leave when an elderly man appeared at the door: Don Rodrigo. He saw us, understood that we came “in the name of God,” looked down, and moved away from the door into his house. Immediately, a woman came out—his wife. She greeted us and invited us in. As soon as we entered, we saw that in a tiny room to the left of the main hall, sitting on a chair with his head bowed, was Don Rodrigo. He was crying. His wife sat beside him, and we began to talk.
At first, we only talked with the lady. Her husband kept his head bowed and was evidently overwhelmed by some sorrow. After a while, the man looked at us and asked a very serious question: “How is it possible that God loves us if He has taken our only son?” He briefly told us that his son, a young man in his twenties, had gone to work in Madrid, cleaning windows, and one fateful day fell from a scaffold and lost his life.
The question took my voice away. I was literally left speechless. Seeing these two people crying, I remembered Job, the biblical character, who in a short time lost everything: family, possessions, friends, health. It seemed that God had abandoned him, remained silent. Since I had no answer to give Don Rodrigo, I felt I needed to approach him, embrace him, and accompany him in his pain and doubt. And, in that moment of embrace, I thought of telling him: “You are not alone. This hug is from God.” Don Rodrigo hugged me very tightly and kept crying.
Having calmed down a bit, he told us that since the death of his son, fifteen years earlier, he had become angry with God, abandoned his relationship with Him, and no longer attended church. We listened to him for a long while, then left his house.
The day after meeting Don Rodrigo, a Holy Mass was celebrated in the parish church. And there, among the attendees, was he. He had reconciled with God in his heart. He had discovered inside that death does not have the last word, for Christ definitively defeated it with His Resurrection. At that moment, I also thought that the answer to evil in the world should also be given by each of us, using our freedom rightly, accompanying those who suffer, bringing joy to those who feel sad, reaching out to the abandoned. In short, conveying to others the message that Jesus shared with humanity, that resilient, highly contagious certainty that, if it takes root sufficiently in each of our hearts, can change the world: God is love and He loves us truly.
“The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear?” (Ps 27:1)
Today, just a few days before my priestly ordination, and reviewing the moments of my story so far, I confirm that God is faithful and that He never, ever, ever lets Himself be outdone in generosity. I am very happy and deeply grateful to all the people the Lord has placed in my path, starting with my family. Vocations do not come from nowhere. God sows them in the heart of a family, cultivates them there, and makes them grow for the good of all.
If you are reading this story and feel that God is calling you, I invite you to listen to your inner longings, and if you confirm that He is inviting you to be with Him and to be sent to preach, have the courage and bravery to say yes. “Lord, with You I go to the ends of the earth.” Christ takes nothing away and gives absolutely everything. Giving your life for the salvation of a single soul is worth everything.
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Óscar Eduardo Gamboa Vega, L.C. Born on September 29, 1986, in Socorro, Santander, Colombia. He was a member of Regnum Christi in Bucaramanga before entering the Legion of Christ at the Medellín Novitiate in February 2003. He studied two years of humanities in Salamanca, Spain, and philosophy in the Pontifical Athenaeum Regina Apostolorum in Rome. During apostolic practices, from 2009 to 2013, he was a formator at the Vocational Center of Córdoba, Argentina, where he made his perpetual vows in 2011. In 2013, he returned to Rome to study for a license in philosophy, which he obtained in 2014 with a specialization in philosophical anthropology. From 2014 to 2015, he collaborated in the territorial secretary of Mexico. In 2015, he returned to Rome to begin studies in theology and collaborate in the general secretariat. He was ordained a deacon on August 18, 2018, in Bogotá. He currently works in vocational pastoral work in Medellín and in the Coffee Axis, Colombia.
