Growing up with a last name like "Priest", you'd think I'd be a shoe-in to become one, huh? Ironically, I think it was my last name that kept me from answering to God's call earlier in my life.

When you're growing up kids can be a little cruel. Actually, I was thankful that I didn't have one of those names that rhymes with everything. But, with a last name like "Priest", I wasn't totally in the clear. I was constantly being asked whether I was going to be a priest. I would usually answer with a slightly irritated, "NO!" I think my sister made out better than me-with only a "Jenny Rabbi" joke here and there.

As I grew older I had the chance to spend some time getting to know a seminarian who spent a year working at my middle school's parish. Getting to know Jerry (now Fr. Jerry) opened me up to the idea of being a priest. But, even with a seminarian around I never heard the priesthood spoken about as a real and credible option for me. I suppose that was because the priesthood was usually a punch line to a corny joke, and not an actual possibility. More than that though, I don't think anyone was asking young men, and certainly not young boys, to consider the priesthood.

Later, when I was in high school, a priest from a religious order spoke to our junior religion class. I don't really remember anything Fr. Greg said that day, except that I answered a few of the questions he asked us. When I was leaving class Fr. Greg pulled me aside and asked me if I had ever considered becoming a priest! I remember it vividly. Panic ran through me. My palms began to sweat. My stomach churned. I thought, why did he ask me? I thought I was a normal! I instantly responded with a solemn and thoroughly unconvincing, "NO." (After quite a few years of practice this "NO" became a lightning-quick response.) Of course, my religion teacher laughed because he knew my last name. While my teacher was laughing I stood by in a bit of shock, realizing that it wasn't a joke this time. Fear ran through me because this time was different-the one asking had no idea what my last name was. Fr. Greg saw something in me that made him think that I might have a priestly vocation. He asked a few more questions which I cleverly evaded, assuring him that I already had plans for college and a career and didn't see the priesthood in them.

I don't think I've ever confessed lying to Fr. Greg that day-of course I had thought about being a priest before, but never took it altogether seriously. This time it was serious. I could sense from the stirrings in my gut that maybe it was God who was asking the question this time. I tried not to listen to the nagging voice I heard because by that time in high school I had a steady girlfriend, good grades, and ambitions to be an engineer. My future was planned, and my plans didn't include the priesthood.

Shortly after graduating from high school I wasn't sure I wanted to be an engineer anymore. During my first year of community college I went to the 1995 World Youth Day in the Philippines. After returning from seeing the Holy Father, experiencing the faith of youth from around the world, and being shown what love and joy were by our Filipino hosts, I was transformed. For some reason I didn't get to go to confession during the days in the Philippines. When I returned home my Mom (mothers always know best) subtly let me know that there was an evening for youth up at the Carmelite Monastery. I went to the Monastery and went to confession that very night. To my surprise, shock, and delight, the priest behind the screen was the same Fr. Greg who had asked me the question two years earlier. My confession was the occasion of an amazing outpouring of God's mercy. I don't think I had ever known joy before I experienced God's mercy that night. His mercy showed me that He was the one Who would never fail me; the one to whom I could entrust my whole life. As I came to know Jesus more closely during the next year I began to understand that if God had been so generous as to put a desire on my heart, how could I fail to follow His call wherever it might lead, even if it meant the priesthood.

Still, in spite of all these gifts from God, five years passed before I finally entered the seminary. Through all that time and even until today I have doubts about my vocation. Am I worthy? Can I be a good preacher? Am I gifted enough to do this without failing or hurting people through my faults and sins? To all of these doubts I must answer, NO. I'm not worthy. I'm might not be a good preacher. I'm not that gifted. But, even with all my shortcomings, I realize that Jesus has called me as I am. What I came to see that night in the confessional was that God loved me just the way I was, but He loved me too much to let me stay that way. Indeed, "God shows his love for us in that while we were yet sinners Christ died for us" (Rom 5:8).

As I journey toward the priesthood in these graced years of seminary I look back with a smile to all those who ever joked about me becoming a priest. But, I look back with great thankfulness to the priest who vocalized God's call to me: "have you ever thought about becoming a Priest?"