I love when people say you choose Catholicism for comfort. Maybe I’m doing it wrong but I haven’t hit that part yet. Catholicism makes my life harder. Pick up your cross, forgive those who’ve sinned against you, empty yourself of yourself. Ok. that’s all great and they’re also the most counter intuitive acts a human can do. I don’t know about you but I’m hard wired for grudge holding. I can do it…for a loooooong time. I’m really good at being lazy too. I don’t need to pick up a cross, I’ve got a remote. And why should I empty myself when I’ve spent my life getting so full of myself? Catholicism doesn’t make you comfortable. It calls us out of ourselves and pushes us to be better than we were yesterday. It calls us to live up to God’s expectations.

Yeah, the people who think Catholicism is the spiritual equivalent of a warm blanket and hot cocoa have clearly never tried it. They probably picture it as one of those soft-focus Jesus paintings where he’s basically a chill life coach with good hair, handing out participation trophies for showing up to Mass.

Meanwhile, in actual Catholicism, the entry fee is your entire whole self. Not metaphorically. Literally. The starter kit comes with “deny yourself,” “take up your cross daily,” and “love your enemies” printed in 72-point bold on the inside of your eyelids so you see it every time you blink. It’s like signing up for a gym membership where the trainer is an ancient desert mystic who hates excuses and the equipment is just splinters and regret.

Forgiveness? Oh sure, forgive the guy who wronged you. The one who cut you off in traffic, or stole your parking spot at the Acme, or worse betrayed you in a way that still makes your blood boil at 3 a.m. while you’re staring at the ceiling. Catholicism doesn’t let you file that under “things I’ll deal with never.” It demands you drag that grudge out into the light, look it in its stupid face, and say, “You know what? I’m choosing to release this before it finishes eating me alive.” And then do it again tomorrow when the grudge comes back like a boomerang made of spite. It’s exhausting. It’s anti-human. We’re built to hoard resentment like squirrels hoard nuts for the apocalypse. Catholicism is like, “Nah, give those nuts away. Feed your enemy. Pray for the squirrel who bit you.” (OK. I took the squirrel metaphor too far. I’ll admit it.)

And the emptying yourself thing? That’s the real kicker. You’ve spent decades carefully curating a magnificent tower of ego. Every achievement, every petty win, every time you were right and they were wrong stacked like Jenga blocks made of pure self-satisfaction. Then Catholicism strolls in like, “Cool tower. Now knock it down. Pour it out. Become poor in spirit so you can inherit the kingdom.” It’s not “be your best self.” It’s “die to self so Christ can live in you.” Which sounds beautiful until you’re actually trying to do it and realize your “self” fights back like a raccoon in a trash can.

Laziness? Forget about it. The faith literally has a whole sin category called sloth, because apparently even God knows we’re tempted to just Netflix-and-not-even-chill our way through existence. It wants you praying when you’d rather scroll, fasting when pizza exists, serving when staying home with the remote feels like winning at life. It’s counter to every instinct we’ve got wired in from evolution or bad parenting or just being mammals who prefer not dying.

So yeah, if someone’s out there saying you picked Catholicism for the comfort, they’re either lying, or they’ve got a version where Jesus is just a really supportive therapist who validates all their vibes. Here’s a hint. If the Jesus in your mind always agrees with you, you’re probably worshipping yourself.

The real deal Catholicism? It’s a daily gut-punch reminder that you’re not the center of the universe, that love is harder than hate, that mercy costs more than vengeance, and that the only way up is down on your knees, carrying something heavy that wasn’t meant for comfort.

But damn if it doesn’t make you more alive than the alternative. More human. Less of a grudge-holding couch gremlin. So keep picking up that cross. The remote will still be there when you get back.