Hearing the Call to Follow | 19th Sunday in Ordinary Time

By: Fr. Carlos Suarez '11

The account of Elijah on Mount Horeb is one of my favorite passages in all of Sacred Scripture. Elijah has fled into the wilderness, exhausted, discouraged, and afraid. He has witnessed the power of God and courageously confronted false prophets, but now the burden of his mission has become too heavy. He feels alone, overwhelmed, and uncertain that he can continue.

Yet God does not abandon him. Before leading Elijah to the mountain, the Lord first provides him with food, water, and rest. This small detail reveals something beautiful about the tenderness of God. The Lord understands that Elijah’s spiritual discouragement is connected to his physical and emotional exhaustion. God does not begin by demanding more from him. He first strengthens him for the journey that lies ahead.

Nourished by the food God provides, Elijah travels for forty days and forty nights until he reaches Horeb, the mountain of God. There, he waits for the Lord to reveal Himself. Great natural signs appear, but the Lord isn’t in them. Eventually, Elijah hears a small, whispering sound—a still, small voice—and he recognizes the presence of God.

We often expect God to act through something dramatic, grandiose, or impossible to overlook. We look for unmistakable signs, overwhelming emotions, extraordinary miracles, or answers that remove every uncertainty. God can certainly reveal Himself in powerful ways, but Elijah’s experience reminds us that He often chooses to work through quiet movements: a gentle conviction, an unexpected invitation, a moment of clarity, a word from a friend, a passage of Scripture that suddenly speaks directly to our situation.

The small voice that spoke to Elijah speaks to every soul. Each of us are called by God to cultivate the interior silence that allows us to recognize the voice of God and respond to His direction. This message is deeply personal for me. I have now been a priest for fifteen years. As I look back upon those years, from the beginning of my priesthood until the present moment, I recognize that what has guided my path most consistently has been those moments when God speaks in a still, small voice. Many of the most important movements in my priesthood did not arrive with thunder, fire, or absolute certainty. They came quietly. They came through prayer, through an interior conviction that would not disappear and an invitation to take another step in faith.

Many times, I would have preferred a more dramatic sign. It would be easier if God always made the road ahead unmistakably clear. More often, He gives us just enough light for the next step. He asks us to trust Him before we know exactly where the path will lead. Over these fifteen years, I have learned that the still, small voice of God is not weak or uncertain. It may be gentle, but it is persistent. It may speak quietly, but it often calls us to courageous and costly decisions.

That is true of every vocation. God calls each of us to holiness, and within that universal call He gives each person a particular path of love and service. Some are called to marriage, some to priesthood, diaconate, or consecrated life. The challenge is not simply to ask God to bless the plans we have already made. The deeper challenge is to become quiet enough to hear the plans He may be placing before us. As we surrender our plans, fears, and false securities, we become more capable of receiving what God desires to give us: communion with Him rooted in silence, contemplation, and love.

Genuine prayer helps us hear the voice of God, and while that voice strengthens us in a deeper communion with God, it also always sends us back into the world. Like Elijah, having encountered God, we descend the mountain prepared to become His prophets in modern times.

August 9 is also the Feast of Saint Teresa Benedicta of the Cross, better known as Saint Edith Stein, one of my favorite saints. I first came to know her more deeply during my first priestly assignment. I was assigned to a collaborative of three parishes, one of which was named in her honor because the second miracle attributed to her intercession for her canonization occurred in the parish's territory.

Edith Stein’s life offers a powerful witness to the importance of seeking the truth. She was a brilliant philosopher who refused to settle for easy answers. Her sincere search eventually led her to Christ, to the Catholic Church, and ultimately to religious life as a Carmelite nun.

Her life teaches us that we must always seek the truth and, when we find it, follow it no matter the cost. For Edith Stein, following the truth required profound changes. Her fidelity ultimately brought her to the cross. She was killed at Auschwitz in 1942, giving her life as a Jewish woman, a Catholic nun, and a disciple of Jesus Christ.

The truth she discovered was not simply an idea but a Person: Jesus Christ. Once she recognized Him, she could not turn away, even when discipleship demanded everything. Her witness challenges us not merely to admire the truth, but to organize our lives around it.

Peter faces a similar challenge in the Gospel. When Jesus comes toward the disciples across the stormy sea, Peter boldly asks to come to Him. Jesus responds with a single word: “Come.”

Peter steps out of the boat. For a few extraordinary moments, he walks upon the water toward Jesus. Yet when he notices the strength of the wind, fear takes hold of him, and he begins to sink. Peter learns the importance of keeping his eyes fixed upon the Lord rather than upon the storm surrounding him.

The image of Peter stepping out of the boat speaks powerfully to priestly vocations. We need more men who are willing to ask the Lord, “Are You calling me to come to You in this way?” We need families, parishioners, teachers, and friends who are willing to encourage them to ask that question seriously. Too often, a possible vocation is met first with fear, hesitation, or practical objections. Yet when we recognize in someone the generosity, faith, compassion, and courage that could flourish in priestly service, we should not be afraid to say, “Have you ever considered that God may be calling you to the priesthood?”

Encouraging a vocation does not mean pressuring someone or deciding God’s will for them. It means helping them listen. It means praying for them, affirming the gifts we see, and giving them the freedom to discern generously. A single word of encouragement can become part of the still, small voice through which God speaks.

At the same time, perhaps the person being called is not someone else. Perhaps it is you. Perhaps God has planted within your heart a desire for priesthood that you have tried to dismiss, postpone, or explain away. Perhaps you have remained in the boat because the wind is strong, the water appears uncertain, and the cost seems too great. The Lord does not promise that the sea will always be calm. He does not reveal every step before we begin. He simply says, “Come.” The question is whether we are willing to step out boldly and keep our eyes fixed upon Jesus.

As disciples, our responsibility is not only to pray for vocations in the abstract. We must create a parish culture in which vocations can be heard, encouraged, and embraced. We must pray that young people will know the silence in which God speaks. We must invite, encourage, and accompany. Above all, we must become witnesses of joyful discipleship, because vocations are often awakened when people encounter others whose lives reveal that giving oneself to Christ is not a loss but a path to fullness.

This week let us make time to listen, seek the truth sincerely, and step forward boldly. The storm may rage, and God’s invitation may at times seem impractical, unsettling, or even slightly irrational. Yet the still, small voice that guided Elijah, Saint Edith Stein, Saint Peter, and countless disciples continues to speak today. Keep your eyes fixed upon Jesus. Encourage others to follow Him generously. And when He says to you, “Come,” do not remain in the boat.

The account of Elijah on Mount Horeb is one of my favorite passages in all of Sacred Scripture. Elijah has fled into the wilderness, exhausted, discouraged, and afraid. He has witnessed the power of God and courageously confronted false prophets, but now the burden of his mission has become too heavy. He feels alone, overwhelmed, and uncertain that he can continue.

Yet God does not abandon him. Before leading Elijah to the mountain, the Lord first provides him with food, water, and rest. This small detail reveals something beautiful about the tenderness of God. The Lord understands that Elijah’s spiritual discouragement is connected to his physical and emotional exhaustion. God does not begin by demanding more from him. He first strengthens him for the journey that lies ahead.

Nourished by the food God provides, Elijah travels for forty days and forty nights until he reaches Horeb, the mountain of God. There, he waits for the Lord to reveal Himself. Great natural signs appear, but the Lord isn’t in them. Eventually, Elijah hears a small, whispering sound—a still, small voice—and he recognizes the presence of God.

We often expect God to act through something dramatic, grandiose, or impossible to overlook. We look for unmistakable signs, overwhelming emotions, extraordinary miracles, or answers that remove every uncertainty. God can certainly reveal Himself in powerful ways, but Elijah’s experience reminds us that He often chooses to work through quiet movements: a gentle conviction, an unexpected invitation, a moment of clarity, a word from a friend, a passage of Scripture that suddenly speaks directly to our situation.

The small voice that spoke to Elijah speaks to every soul. Each of us are called by God to cultivate the interior silence that allows us to recognize the voice of God and respond to His direction. This message is deeply personal for me. I have now been a priest for fifteen years. As I look back upon those years, from the beginning of my priesthood until the present moment, I recognize that what has guided my path most consistently has been those moments when God speaks in a still, small voice. Many of the most important movements in my priesthood did not arrive with thunder, fire, or absolute certainty. They came quietly. They came through prayer, through an interior conviction that would not disappear and an invitation to take another step in faith.

Many times, I would have preferred a more dramatic sign. It would be easier if God always made the road ahead unmistakably clear. More often, He gives us just enough light for the next step. He asks us to trust Him before we know exactly where the path will lead. Over these fifteen years, I have learned that the still, small voice of God is not weak or uncertain. It may be gentle, but it is persistent. It may speak quietly, but it often calls us to courageous and costly decisions.

That is true of every vocation. God calls each of us to holiness, and within that universal call He gives each person a particular path of love and service. Some are called to marriage, some to priesthood, diaconate, or consecrated life. The challenge is not simply to ask God to bless the plans we have already made. The deeper challenge is to become quiet enough to hear the plans He may be placing before us. As we surrender our plans, fears, and false securities, we become more capable of receiving what God desires to give us: communion with Him rooted in silence, contemplation, and love.

Genuine prayer helps us hear the voice of God, and while that voice strengthens us in a deeper communion with God, it also always sends us back into the world. Like Elijah, having encountered God, we descend the mountain prepared to become His prophets in modern times.

August 9 is also the Feast of Saint Teresa Benedicta of the Cross, better known as Saint Edith Stein, one of my favorite saints. I first came to know her more deeply during my first priestly assignment. I was assigned to a collaborative of three parishes, one of which was named in her honor because the second miracle attributed to her intercession for her canonization occurred in the parish's territory.

Edith Stein’s life offers a powerful witness to the importance of seeking the truth. She was a brilliant philosopher who refused to settle for easy answers. Her sincere search eventually led her to Christ, to the Catholic Church, and ultimately to religious life as a Carmelite nun.

Her life teaches us that we must always seek the truth and, when we find it, follow it no matter the cost. For Edith Stein, following the truth required profound changes. Her fidelity ultimately brought her to the cross. She was killed at Auschwitz in 1942, giving her life as a Jewish woman, a Catholic nun, and a disciple of Jesus Christ.

The truth she discovered was not simply an idea but a Person: Jesus Christ. Once she recognized Him, she could not turn away, even when discipleship demanded everything. Her witness challenges us not merely to admire the truth, but to organize our lives around it.

Peter faces a similar challenge in the Gospel. When Jesus comes toward the disciples across the stormy sea, Peter boldly asks to come to Him. Jesus responds with a single word: “Come.”

Peter steps out of the boat. For a few extraordinary moments, he walks upon the water toward Jesus. Yet when he notices the strength of the wind, fear takes hold of him, and he begins to sink. Peter learns the importance of keeping his eyes fixed upon the Lord rather than upon the storm surrounding him.

The image of Peter stepping out of the boat speaks powerfully to priestly vocations. We need more men who are willing to ask the Lord, “Are You calling me to come to You in this way?” We need families, parishioners, teachers, and friends who are willing to encourage them to ask that question seriously. Too often, a possible vocation is met first with fear, hesitation, or practical objections. Yet when we recognize in someone the generosity, faith, compassion, and courage that could flourish in priestly service, we should not be afraid to say, “Have you ever considered that God may be calling you to the priesthood?”

Encouraging a vocation does not mean pressuring someone or deciding God’s will for them. It means helping them listen. It means praying for them, affirming the gifts we see, and giving them the freedom to discern generously. A single word of encouragement can become part of the still, small voice through which God speaks.

At the same time, perhaps the person being called is not someone else. Perhaps it is you. Perhaps God has planted within your heart a desire for priesthood that you have tried to dismiss, postpone, or explain away. Perhaps you have remained in the boat because the wind is strong, the water appears uncertain, and the cost seems too great. The Lord does not promise that the sea will always be calm. He does not reveal every step before we begin. He simply says, “Come.” The question is whether we are willing to step out boldly and keep our eyes fixed upon Jesus.

As disciples, our responsibility is not only to pray for vocations in the abstract. We must create a parish culture in which vocations can be heard, encouraged, and embraced. We must pray that young people will know the silence in which God speaks. We must invite, encourage, and accompany. Above all, we must become witnesses of joyful discipleship, because vocations are often awakened when people encounter others whose lives reveal that giving oneself to Christ is not a loss but a path to fullness.

This week let us make time to listen, seek the truth sincerely, and step forward boldly. The storm may rage, and God’s invitation may at times seem impractical, unsettling, or even slightly irrational. Yet the still, small voice that guided Elijah, Saint Edith Stein, Saint Peter, and countless disciples continues to speak today. Keep your eyes fixed upon Jesus. Encourage others to follow Him generously. And when He says to you, “Come,” do not remain in the boat.