I hate rollercoasters.
When I was a sophomore in high school I went on a youth group trip to Six Flags near Chicago with a couple friends who “encouraged me” to go with them so I could ride my first rollercoaster.
It was awful.
The lines were bad enough, but I didn’t even enjoy the payoff of the ride. I spent the rest of the day trying to get out of every ride my friends tried to drag me onto, and I resolved to never ride a rollercoaster again when we left.
I kept my word and I didn’t step foot on another ride… until I had kids 20 years later and we were on our first Disneyland trip.
And guess what they have at Disneyland… all kinds of rides that include rollercoasters.
I understand these aren’t Six Flags rollercoasters, but I still hate them. Unfortunately, when your five year old son is begging you to take him on “Hyperspace Mountain” (a rollercoaster, but in the dark!) you need to make a choice. You can either be “brave dad” or be safe.
Brave dad strapped into that rollercoaster and guess what I found out?
I still hate rollercoasters… but my kids love them.
This presents a substantial issue for me moving forward. My wife gets severe motion sickness and can’t ride a carousel let alone a rollercoaster, and my kids (for now) are too young to ride them alone. This leaves me as the de facto rollercoaster chaperone—I’m the only way that my kids can hop on these rides they enjoy.
Am I wildly uncomfortable, even on the tiny dragon rollercoaster at Legoland? Absolutely. Do I latch that lap bar as tight as I can until I’m cutting off circulation in my legs? Indeed, I do. Is my daughter having the time of her life? Of course.
Love does things like that.
On my own, I would never get on even a smaller rollercoaster, but this isn’t about me anymore. Love is compelling me to something more—something uncomfortable. I love my kids tremendously and want to be there for them in all kinds of ways; riding a rollercoaster is really one of the smallest ways I respond to the demands of love.
At the heart of discipleship there is a tension and a discomfort. To follow Jesus is to respond to his command to love one another, to love our neighbors and even our enemies. Love is uncomfortable. When we truly love someone, we no longer get to live life on our own terms; we give up some measure of control because the demands of love stretch us.
This stretching is at the heart of Eucharistic Mission.
If we love Jesus and follow Jesus, then at a certain point this closeness will produce a desire to be like Jesus. When we survey the Gospel, Jesus desires that we reach this point—that we imitate him (John 13:15). This imitation requires us to become that which we receive: bread that is taken, blessed, broken, and shared.
It is in this breaking that we find ourselves uncomfortable, but without this breaking we can never truly be shared. Love requires this brokenness—a vulnerability and a willingness to step outside of our comfort for the good of another.
When we walk with another person toward Jesus there is discomfort. We will hit a moment when we need to share, explicitly, who Jesus is and invite someone to know him. Far too often we are content to be taken by Jesus as a disciple and blessed by him, but we don’t want to undergo the “breaking” necessary to be shared.
We want to remain comfortable. We don’t want to impose on another. We worry about how we might be perceived.
When we walk with another person as a Eucharistic Missionary, we must be compassionate. We must allow ourselves to be vulnerable, and this vulnerability opens us up to suffering with another person in their journey. To feeling the weight of their wounds. This “breaking” shakes us out of our self-centeredness and self-interest.
Peter shares a moment with Jesus after the Resurrection when he is invited into this brokenness so he can be shared. Jesus asks Peter if he loves him. Peter responds in the affirmative but Jesus presses the question, revealing that one day Peter is going to be called to embrace the Eucharistic Mission through his martyrdom. Jesus also assures Peter that he will be ready when the moment comes.
This should leave us with the question—what comes in between? How does Peter go from a man who denied Christ three times to the leader of the Church who dies upside down on a cross as a martyr?
It is the invitation to follow Jesus and to continue falling in love with him, because it is only out of this love that Peter can be broken (John 21:19). It is only through following Jesus closely that Peter will be able to embrace martyrdom.
Love does things like that.
The fourth pillar of the Year of Mission is “Eucharistic Mission,” and it is the place where we go out to share the love of Jesus. It is here that we “walk with one,” and we invite friends and family who perhaps have grown cold in their faith to join us at Mass. We should make no mistake, though, that we will only be able to do this if we are willing to be broken—to be uncomfortable—before we are shared. Without this dimension, a truly Eucharistic dimension, we will simply be cold and callous or cautious and quiet.
I still hate rollercoasters, but every time I ride one with my kids I can feel myself enjoying it a bit more. That enjoyment has nothing to do with the ride itself. Rather, I find myself taken by their giddy laughter, their smile and excitement, and the moments after the ride when my head is still spinning and they shout, “Let’s go again!” That makes the discomfort worth it. It pushes me back in line, holding their hand tightly and convincing myself that I am doing it so “they won’t be scared.”
So it is with Eucharistic Mission. It may never get any easier to invite a friend to Mass, to sit with someone who has been hurt by people in the Church, or to walk with someone through the ups and downs of discipleship. But when love drives us, we endure those moments because we know that what lies on the other side is more than a good feeling or wonderful experience; it is eternity itself.
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The National Eucharistic Congress, Inc. was founded in 2022 by the U.S. bishops in direct response to the need for National Eucharistic Revival. It exists to bring the world into a living relationship with Jesus in the Eucharist, and it accomplishes such a mission through world-class events, innovational pilgrimages, and exceptional spiritual formation.
