By fr. JLucas254🇯🇲, 2 April 2026

As we anticipate the celebration of the Chrism Mass this evening, I find myself doing what I have learned to do as a young priest when the heart becomes heavy, the mind becomes crowded, and the expectations feel larger than the man inside the cassock — I go to hide.

Yes, hide.

Not from my vocation, not from my people, not from my responsibilities, but I go to hide in the one place where a priest is allowed to be small again — the chapel.

Today I came to hide here in the chapel of Corpus Christi because I felt overwhelmed with fear and anxiety of the moment. There are times in priesthood when you feel very strong and very sure, and there are other times when you feel very aware that you are just a man trying to carry something bigger than himself.

So I came to hide.

And in the quiet of the chapel, something beautiful began to happen. The chanting of the palms moved softly in the breeze, like a gentle prayer that did not need words. Somewhere nearby, the sound of the piano floated through the air, slow and peaceful, as if each note was telling my heart to calm down. Then the Angelus bell rang — loud and clear — and with every ring it felt like Jesus was calling my name personally, not as “Father,” not as “priest,” but just as me.

“Come. Sit. Breathe. I am here.”

This chapel has become my little exodus place — the place I run to when Egypt feels too heavy, when the desert feels too long, and when I am not sure I am strong enough for the journey. Here, I don’t have to pretend. Here, I don’t have to have answers. Here, I don’t have to be strong for everyone else.

Here, I can just be a son sitting in front of his Father.

And I found peace again, not because my problems disappeared, not because my responsibilities became smaller, but because I was reminded that this priesthood was never mine to carry alone.

In my hiding place, I found peace in knowing You are there, Jesus.

I found peace in knowing You listen to my plea.

I found peace in knowing that before I am a priest at the altar, I am a man who kneels before it.

Sometimes people think priests don’t get afraid, don’t get anxious, don’t get overwhelmed. The truth is, we do. But we also know where to hide.

And the most peaceful place for a priest to hide is not a room, not a house, not even a vacation.

The most peaceful place to hide

is in the quiet chapel,

in the presence of the Eucharist,

at the foot of the cross,

where a priest can remove every title, every expectation, every fear,

and just whisper,

“Jesus, it’s me again. I need a little peace.”