I was recently working with a room full of priests regarding plans for outreach and evangelization in their diocese. As we looked at maps and statistics that the chancery had prepared, I approached one table, where a few of the priests questioned why we were planning to evangelize that part of the diocese. “There are no people there,” one priest mentioned. I pointed to the census stats that suggested otherwise. He revised his statement, “Well, there are no Catholics there.” I replied, “Well, not yet.” With an annoyed face, the priest quickly retorted, “Don’t be cute.”

I wasn’t trying to be cute. I was trying to be faithful to the exercise put before us by considering how we could reach out to the people in a given area to introduce them to Jesus and the Church. The question was, why wasn’t that group of priests, who are canonically charged with the care of those souls, doing the same?

We can be quick to jump all over priests as the barriers to our grand plans for renewal. However, a week later, I was among a room of parish leaders — lay representatives from multiple parishes in a deanery. I shared research about higher rates of depression and suicide among younger generations. I made the point that while they might not know it, those young people were calling out for God. An older woman came up to me afterward and said, “Those kids don’t want God. They’re just selfish.”

Lest these two vignettes suggest that Dan Cellucci is always the eternal optimist, there have been more than a few times I’ve sat in Mass, looked around and wondered, does anyone really care to be here? Does anything we do really move the needle?

Why don’t we expect conversion? The answer may vary for each of us. For me, and maybe for you, I think it comes down to a few cold hard truths.

Leaning on Hope

Because I can’t tie it to my personal impact. I often feel like a failure. I’ve been doing my ministry for 20 years. The longer I’ve been in this vineyard, the more the harvest seems to dwindle and the larger the fields get, despite my efforts to influence and impact those I can. I’ve been showing up, yet nothing seems to sprout. What does that say about all my labor?

Because we all get tired, especially when we don’t see the fruit of our efforts. I am tired. I recently met with a financial planner about retirement and realized that I must work as long as I have already worked (and more) until I can retire “comfortably.” I felt a little like Elijah calling out, “Enough, Lord!” (1 Kgs 19:4). While I like what I do, how can I possibly do it for another two decades? Sometimes we begin to put limits on God’s power based on our own limits, especially as we age and don’t have the energy we once did. We begin to set God’s clock to our own biological clock.

Because I simply lack faith. If the first two reasons are true for me, then it may be that thirdly and most soberingly, I really don’t believe. To quote Jeremiah, “Cursed is the man who trusts in human beings, / who makes flesh his strength” (Jer 17:5). I don’t expect conversion because I forget that I am not the primary agent of it. I don’t expect conversion because I refuse to accept that I am in the most need of it. I don’t expect conversion because if I can’t imagine it, define it, predict it or plan it, it must be impossible. Fathers, it’s no sin to doubt sometimes, but being reckless with our cynicism or pessimism is sinful.

“Blessed are those who trust in the Lord” (Jer 17:7). Whether in your preaching or your presence, your planning or your prayer, how are you teaching your people to expect conversion, not because they can will it, but because he wills it? How can you invite others by your own example to a fuller, active and conscious participation in a trust that is anything but passive? This Easter season, help your people rejoice in a hope that expects conversion; a hope that isn’t based on circumstance, trend lines, predictive analytics or even their own toil. Let them know that you expect conversion because he desires their hearts and yours.

DANIEL CELLUCCI is the CEO of Catholic Leadership Institute. His most important vocation is as a husband and father to four children. He lives in the Archdiocese of Philadelphia.