I stumbled across a website recently—whyimcatholic.com. The name says it all. It’s a place where people from every background post their stories, sharing what led them to the Catholic faith. Fair warning: if you check it out, it’s addictive. You read one testimony, then another, and before you know it, an hour has passed. What struck me most were the stories from people who once called themselves atheists—folks who didn’t just drift from faith, but ran the other way, convinced there was nothing out there. And yet, somehow, they ended up here.
Thank you for taking the time to read this homily for THE SOLEMNITY OF THE MOST HOLY TRINITY (June 15, 2025). Your support means a great deal to me, and I’m deeply grateful for the many who share these messages with their friends, families and social media followers. If you’ve found meaning in these words, I’d be grateful if you’d share them with others who might benefit.
And for those who prefer listening, you can find the audio version on SoundCloud HERE or subscribe to the podcast on iTunes HERE. Your comments, messages, and the way you’ve embraced these homilies continue to inspire me. Sincerely in Christ -Father Jim
One of those stories belongs to Jennifer Fulwiler. For most of her life, Jennifer believed there was no God—no meaning to any of it. Things like heroism or love? Just tricks of biology, neurons firing in the brain. Christianity? A fairy tale. She traces her skepticism to her father, but, to be fair, he hadn’t raised her to be an atheist so much as he’d raised her to chase the truth. “Never believe something because it’s convenient or it makes you feel good,” he’d say. “Ask yourself: Is it true?”
That question—Is it true?—followed her. It showed up quietly: first when she fell in love with her husband Joe (himself a Christian, but not exactly practicing), and then again when she had her first child. Holding her newborn son, she ran up against something she couldn’t explain away—something that felt bigger, deeper—transcendent. Maybe, she thought, there really is more to life. Maybe the spiritual realm isn’t just wishful thinking.
A few months later, Jennifer picked up a book by a former atheist who’d become Christian. She expected to disagree with him, but she respected that he based his beliefs on reason, not just feelings. For the first time, Jesus wasn’t just a cartoon figure people used to prop up their own ideas. He was a real person, someone who changed history. She writes:
I had never seen Jesus as anything other than a silly fairytale figure whom people called upon to give a divine thumbs-up to self-serving beliefs; but now I was intrigued by the man as a historical figure. Something happened in first-century Palestine, something so big that it still sends shockwaves down to the present day. And it all centered around the figure of Jesus Christ. As Joe once pointed out when I asked him why he considered himself a Christian, Christianity is the only major world religion founded by a guy who claimed to be God. That’s an easy claim to disprove if it’s not true.
That’s what stopped her—her dad’s old question: What if it’s true?
She started reading—first C.S. Lewis’s Mere Christianity, then the Bible, then she went church-hopping, convinced there was no way Catholics could be real Christians. Weren’t they the ones stuck in the past, with all those rules? But the more she read about Catholic theology, the more sense it made. Even the tough teachings on things like abortion and contraception—teachings she thought she’d never accept—began to look less like arbitrary rules and more like hard-won wisdom.
Still, it wasn’t easy. As she moved closer to the Church, some teachings clashed with her own life. For a while, she almost gave up, thinking, “Maybe I’m better off as an atheist after all.” But then she realized she was doing the very thing she’d always criticized religious people for—letting emotions override the search for truth. She’d become convinced that Catholicism was true, but she was ready to walk away because it demanded sacrifice.
That realization changed everything. She decided to give it a real chance, to try living as a Catholic, even though it meant giving up some comforts and certainties. And when she and her husband joined RCIA—the process of becoming Catholic—she finally experienced what she’d dismissed as just emotionalism. “The darkness within me was simply not there anymore. In its place was peace, and an unmistakable feeling of love. For the first time, I felt the presence of God.”
The presence of God. That’s really what today’s feast is about—the Solemnity of the Most Holy Trinity. It’s about the deep longing in each of us to encounter God, not just as an idea or an answer, but as a living presence.
And that longing isn’t just something we feel alone. It’s right there in today’s Scriptures. In Proverbs, we hear about Wisdom at play before the dawn of the world, God’s delight echoing through creation—a reminder that you were made by a Creator who finds joy in you. The psalmist wonders aloud, “What is man that you are mindful of him?”—as if he’s standing under the night sky, struck by awe, searching for meaning and his own place in it all. Paul, in Romans, says peace with God isn’t something you win by effort; it’s a gift, poured into your heart by the Holy Spirit—something you can actually receive. And in John’s Gospel, Jesus promises the Spirit will come and guide you, leading you into truth, step by step, even when you’re not ready for all the answers at once.
These readings aren’t just old words on a page. They speak into that same hunger and restlessness Jennifer felt, that same question: What if it’s true? They remind us that the God we search for is already searching for us—whispering through creation, meeting us in our questions, drawing us deeper by his Spirit and his love.
That’s the mystery at the heart of the Trinity. One God—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Three Persons, but not three gods. Not three ways of looking at the same thing. Distinct, yet united, sharing life and love in a way that goes beyond anything we can fully grasp. The Trinity isn’t a puzzle to solve, but a reality to enter into. Not something to explain away, but a love to be drawn into.
Think about it:
When you search for meaning, you encounter God the Father, the Creator, who made you with purpose.
When you struggle, when you suffer, you meet God the Son, who knows what it’s like to be human, who walks with you and redeems your pain.
When you’re restless, looking for answers, it’s the Holy Spirit who stirs your heart, who pushes you past easy answers and invites you to real faith.
Each Person of the Trinity is distinct, yet their love is the same. If you feel close to one, you’re close to all. If you speak to one, you’re heard by all. If you’re loved by one, you’re loved by all, because they are one.
The Father’s love in creating you. The Son’s love in saving you. The Spirit’s love in sustaining you. It’s all the same love—an endless, overflowing gift.
Jesus came down to redeem us, to draw us into that love. And the miracle is, the love He offers isn’t just His—it’s the love of the Father, and of the Spirit too.
Here’s the thing: the mystery of the Trinity isn’t some abstract doctrine for theologians. It’s the heartbeat of our faith. It means you are never alone. The God who spun the galaxies into being, who took on flesh and walked among us, who breathes life and hope into your soul right now—He is with you. He is for you. He loves you, not in theory, but in the mess and wonder of your real, ordinary, complicated life.
So as we come to the altar today, as we make the sign of the cross—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit—don’t let it be routine. Let it remind you of who you are, and whose you are. Let it challenge you to trust, to surrender, to love with a love that spills over boundaries and breaks down walls.
Let’s not just settle for knowing about God. Let’s ask for the courage to know Him—to let His mystery pull you deeper, to let His love reshape everything. Because the answer to why I am Catholic isn’t just tradition, or doctrine, or even community. It’s this: I have met a God who is Father, Son, and Spirit. I have tasted a love that holds nothing back. The Trinity isn’t a problem to solve—it’s a life to be lived.
May you never lose your wonder. May you never settle for less. And may the mystery and truth of the Triune God set your heart on fire, today and always.
