Your Life is Your Apostolate

Don't compartmentalize your faith.

Earlier this year, I read The Life of Francis of Assisi to learn more about this great Saint, whose grave I had visited towards the end of last year. I realized that I didn’t know much about him, and I felt in my heart a calling to draw closer to him, perhaps precisely because St. Francis so clearly exemplifies the virtues that I lack the most.

It’s stated in the book that St. Francis made it a point to always give something to those who begged him for alms as he walked around 13th century Italy preaching the Gospel. Even though this seems like a simple enough practice, I felt directly called out by this. You see, I live in a somewhat dangerous city, and the cultural agreement we all seem to live under is that it’s always wise to completely ignore and turn away from those asking for alms on the street, lest you get mugged, robbed, or worse. So far, that’s how I had been living my life.

Ever since I learnt about St. Francis’s incredible generosity and commitment to serving the poor, I have been trying to change that mindset by saying yes to every single request for alms. This has proven to be both much easier and much harder than I would’ve thought: it’s easy because so far, I haven’t gotten mugged, but I have received looks of profound gratitude instead, by other children of God who have fallen into misfortune. It’s simultaneously hard, however, because my instinct whenever someone stops me or talks to me on the street is still to turn away from them and continue on my way so it takes a moment of grace to recognize that I’m supposed to help them.

This practice has been tremendously fruitful in my life. Being more aware of my duty to give keeps me humble and detached, helps me remember how grateful I should be, and it makes me aware of the fact that my possessions are not my own, but God’s, entrusted to me to manage virtuously. I highly recommend you do the same, even when you are short on cash. Whenever I don’t have any cash on hand, I just go into a nearby store and buy some fruit or a bag of peanuts and a bottle of water to give to whoever is asking for alms. There is always something we can give, and most of the time whatever we can give is more than enough.

This practice has also taught me something much more important, which is the main point that I want to communicate in this article: your life is your apostolate, and the proper way to spread the Gospel is by being a living embodiment of it.

Many men of faith often end up unwillingly behaving as though their faith was something they can turn on and off, like a light switch: it’s on every Sunday or when you consciously sit down to pray. It’s off at work. It’s on when you’re praying the rosary or in adoration, it’s off when you are running errands or having coffee with an old friend.

The problem with this view is that it misunderstands the role that our faith should play in our lives, viewing it as a mere complement or “segment” of your life, instead of as the fuel that should drive your every action.

Total Integrity

We should strive to live with total integrity, in a way in which our faith permeates and guides every single little detail of our lives. This doesn’t mean that you should focus on performing visible acts of piety constantly or seek to be in a state of deep prayer 24/7, but simply put, it’s a life in which faith operates as the organizing principle beneath every action, whether or not the action looks explicitly religious from the outside.

Thus it is evident to everyone, that all the faithful of Christ of whatever rank or status, are called to the fullness of the Christian life and to the perfection of charity.
—Lumen Gentium, 40

Total integrity means that you are honest in your business dealings out of fearful love of God, or that you stay patient with your children after a long stressful day.

Every time you invite God into the ordinary moments of your life, and every time you consciously seek to act as Jesus would, you are living with total integrity. It’s difficult to detach from the religiosity that receives praise because it’s explicit and public, but the hidden actions that no one but God will see are the ones that truly allow the Lord to purify and sanctify you. There are thousands of opportunities to be a testimony of God’s love, in the beggar on the street, in the annoying coworker, in the treacherous friend, in the dishonest business deal that promises quick riches. All of these are crossroads at which the lukewarm will push out their faith so they can follow the ways of the world, whereas the genuinely faithful will stay true to the motions of the Holy Spirit in their hearts and let their faith make the choice for them.

Your faith is not supposed to sit quietly in a separate compartment, waiting for Sunday, but should instead go before you into every room you enter from the moment you wake up until the moment you go to sleep.

Of course this is not easy. You could argue that it’s the ultimate goal of our life here on earth: to become so Christlike that we reflect His Gospel in every word, thought and deed. But that’s precisely the point. Unless we’re totally committed to aiming at sanctity, our faith will be a just a compartment that we open at Mass or when we pray. We will become fragmented men, wearing different masks and relegating what should be our guiding light to a secondary role that does it no justice.

Total integrity requires you to be radical in the best way possible, to truly make it your life’s mission to become a saint, to refuse the temptations that the world offers, to stop ordering your life around the opinion of others, to understand that your possessions are not really yours, and to live with a rebellious spirit that rejects the promises of the world and aims instead for the highest possible goal: holiness.

St. Francis did not compartmentalize because for him there was nothing left outside of God. He had given everything so completely that there was no domain of his life that belonged to himself rather than to Christ. That is the endpoint of the integrated life, and most of us are nowhere near it. But the direction is what matters most. Simply trying to live with total integrity means that you are already living your mission.

So, begin by saying yes to the beggar on the street. If you don’t have cash, take two minutes and buy something for him. Hand it to him and pray for him, letting him know that God loves him and cares for him. Everything we have is God’s, and I like to think that He’s pleased every time we use what He’s blessed us with to bless the other souls we encounter, especially those who are less fortunate.

When you do that, your life becomes already the proclamation of the good news of Christ. The world will read it whether you intend it to be read or not.

Ad Maiora Nati Sumus,

Juan

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