English Espanol

Nicholas Hardesty

Nicholas Hardesty

The doctor reluctantly dialed the number. A recent patient had suffered terrible injuries playing baseball, and the doctor needed to inform the young man that his prognosis was grim. As the phone rang, the doctor searched for a gentle way to deliver the news. He decided to tell a joke:

Baseball player: “Doctor, will I ever play again?”
Doctor: “Well, I have good news and bad news.”
Baseball player: “What’s the good news?”
Doctor: “I heard they play baseball in heaven.”
Baseball player: “That’s great! What’s the bad news?”
Doctor: “You’re next up to bat.”

In hindsight, this was probably not the best approach, but as people called to proclaim the Gospel, we can relate to those who have good and bad news to tell.

The Bad News of the Gospel

It seems counterintuitive that the Gospel would contain bad news. Doesn’t the word “Gospel” mean “good news”? While the Gospel is certainly an announcement of great goodness, it also has a flip side, a warning to go with the promise.

The bad news of the Gospel has to do with the tragic realities that make the good news necessary: Evil is real. It destroys truth, happiness, peace, order, and life. It creates deception, suffering, division, chaos, disorder, and death. It wreaks havoc in the hearts and minds of individuals. It spreads to communities and infects even the natural world in which we live.

There are also lesser evils, things like mediocrity, laziness, selfishness, and half-heartedness. But, even these must be taken seriously. Lesser evils pave the way for greater ones. They ease the way towards our destruction. As C. S. Lewis wrote, “Indeed, the safest road to Hell is the gradual one, the gentle slope, soft underfoot, without sudden turnings, without milestones, without signposts.”

Why the Bad News Is Necessary

The Gospel message acknowledges that sin is real, Hell is real, and our sins have consequences, both in this life and in the next.

This bad news is necessary because many people, including many Christians, have trouble facing the realities of sin. In the “shame culture” we live in, there’s no room for repentance and confession. The primary value is saving face. This means we go to great lengths to maintain appearances and avoid confronting the consequences of sin, both for ourselves and others.

If that weren’t enough, many of us don’t want to give up our sins. We like them too much. They bring us “comfort.” Sometimes, these sins are our only mechanisms for coping with the anxieties of life. We are attached to our sins and we can’t let go.

So, we deliver the bad news to awaken people to these realities. It’s a somber message, it’s not easy to preach, and we certainly don’t lead with it. But, it must be told.

Thankfully, there’s much more to the Gospel than that.

The Good News of the Gospel

If the Gospel was only bad news, then Adam and Eve’s story would have concluded with curses: “Snake, slither and eat dirt. Woman, feel pain in childbirth. Man, toil in the fields. The end.”

But, that wasn’t the end. Instead, God made a promise, which He put squarely to the serpent:

“I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your seed and her seed;
he shall bruise your head, and you shall bruise his heel.” (Genesis 3:15)

Theologians call this “the first Gospel,” and when we unpack it we can see why. Who is the “seed of a woman” who will crush the head of the serpent? Jesus. This means that God always desired to send us His Son to defeat sin, suffering, death, and every evil.

In Jesus we have the courage to confront our sins and the grace to overcome them.

In Jesus we have the strength to do good and resist evil.

In Jesus, we have the hope of eternal happiness.

That’s worth at least some pitch-and-catch with St. Peter.

 

Nicholas Hardesty

I’m very … particular. Hang out with me long enough and you’ll see what I mean. How papers are written, how posters are designed, how food tastes, how clothes fit, how temperature is regulated, everything has to be just so. If something is even slightly off, I can tell. Most of the time, I don’t say anything. I don’t want to be hypercritical of others and I don’t want to be a burden. But inside, I’m anxious and restless.

Imagine a life like that, a life of anxious pickiness. Then, insert kids, four of them, disrupting all order and living life with their own plans on where half-eaten apples should go, how many toys can pile up on the floor, and whether or not the Lego Ford Mustang you spent a whole weekend building actually deserves to stay in one piece. It’s a recipe for “not quite right.” It’s a formula for crazy. It’s my life.

Sometimes, when I’m overwhelmed by it all, I long for a weekend all to myself. Three days of blissful solitude – wouldn’t that be perfect? I could clean the house and actually keep it clean. I could eat what I want, watch what I want, sleep as late as I want. I could ensure that every single thing was just right and exactly how I like it.

Peace and perfection – that’s what that would be. But, on the rare occasions when I get it, I find that it doesn’t work out quite well for me.

Sometimes, over the summer, my wife will take the kids to visit her parents for the week and I’ll remain home because of a work obligation. It ought to be a dream come true, but what happens? I stay up too late and I sleep in too late. I eat food that isn’t good for me, and I eat too much of it. The house ends up messier, not cleaner, and I end up a wreck, guilty and missing my family.

In other words, I’m not my best self when I’m not being a father.

Those rare moments when I’m left to my own devices are a reminder that fatherhood is not an obstacle to my peace and happiness. Instead, it is the vehicle, the driver, the very stuff of my life that makes peace and happiness possible.

My children make life disorderly, unpredictable, and a little crazy at times, but they also make me a better person. I eat better, talk better, act better, pray better, and live better when I have my family with me. I’m more disciplined, more honest, and even more holy when they’re around.

It makes sense that it would be this way. For one, my children depend on me to be the best father I can be, for the sake of their own growth and prosperity. And, since I’m hardly ever without them, they become a built-in source of accountability that keeps me moving in the right direction.
I’m also better when I’m being a father because fatherhood is my vocation. God would not have called me to this particular state in life if it were not also through this state that He desired to make me happy and holy. This is the way for me, and there is no other.

If you’re a father who gets overwhelmed with fatherhood, I encourage you: don’t avoid fatherhood or long to be without it. It’s okay to step away for a bit, to go for a drive or attend a retreat to recharge and recollect yourself. But, don’t fight against fatherhood. Don’t resent it. Instead, lean into it. Seize it. Love it and accept it wholeheartedly.

One day, when you stand before Jesus on the precipice of real peace and perfection, He will want to see that you tackled fatherhood head on and lived it to the fullest. And you will be all the better for having given it your best shot — broken Legos, half-eaten apples, and all.

 

Nicholas Hardesty

When I was a kid, I used to hate making my bed. To me, it just didn’t make any sense. Why am I making my bed when I’m just going to mess it up again? Is someone coming over? If not, why bother?

But, despite my protests, I had to make my bed every day. My mom required it. I’m sure she had her reasons, and she may have even told me what they were. But, the only one I remember is, “Because I said so” – and that made me resist even more.

Do as I Say

As an adult, I’ve tried to avoid using “Because I said so” as a reason for anything. I thought I was doing a good job of that, too. But, recently, a friend brought me to a surprising revelation: I use that argument in my work all the time.

“You are obligated by your Baptism to proclaim the gospel” – ever heard that one before? I say it on a regular basis, and the Church does, too! For example, from the Code of Canon Law:

“Since the whole Church is by its nature missionary and the work of evangelization must be held as a fundamental duty of the people of God, all the Christian faithful, conscious of their responsibility, are to assume their part in missionary work.” (Can. 781)

That sounds a lot like “Because I said so,” doesn’t it?

It’s not that Canon Law is wrong. It’s important to acknowledge our Christian obligations. The problem arises when we only talk about evangelization as a fundamental duty, without mentioning the good to be obtained. There are in fact many goods to be had when we evangelize, both for the evangelizer and the one being evangelized.

What’s in It for Them

The stranger receives many goods when he hears and receives the gospel: the remission of sins; the hope of resurrection and eternal life; a changed life devoted to the good and the salvation of others. All of these benefits are promised by Jesus to anyone who professes and lives by faith.

There are also more natural and human needs that are met by evangelization. When someone receives the gospel, he receives friendship, community, and membership in a family. He receives peace, joy, and the reason for living. He receives Love Itself.

These are all tremendous goods, and loving your neighbor means striving to give them to him.

What’s in It for Me

When you evangelize, you step into your authentic identity.

We tend to think of missionary discipleship as something you work up to. You start as a seeker or a lukewarm Christian. Then you commit your life to Jesus. Then you become a missionary disciple, someone who is bringing others into that same committed life. But, in Evangelii Gaudium, Pope Francis makes a startling statement: we are, all of us, already missionary disciples.

“In virtue of their baptism, all the members of the People of God have become missionary disciples (cf. Mt 28:19). All the baptized, whatever their position in the Church or their level of instruction in the faith, are agents of evangelization …” (no. 120).

Isn’t that amazing!

According to another Francis, St. Francis de Sales, the key to holiness is to be who you are, and be that well. This is what evangelization does for the evangelizer. The discipleship path is not about becoming something you aren’t already. It’s about leaning into a present reality. It’s about being who you are, and being that well.

Of course, there’s also much more at stake. Evangelizing strengthens your faith. It grants you the assurance that you are following God’s will. It brings more hope, love, and joy to your life, since these are only increased as they are given away.

Come to think of it, evangelization is as rewarding as a perfectly-made bed at the end of the day. Perhaps my mom was on to something, after all.

 

Nicholas Hardesty

Venerable archbishop Fulton Sheen liked to say that there are two ways to start the day: One is to say, “Good morning, God.” The other is to say, “Good God, morning!” To some, every day is a gift. To others, it is a rude awakening.

In his book Life Is Worth Living, Sheen says that the anxiety and listlessness that makes life a drudgery is often rooted in an ignorance – and sometimes even an avoidance – of the purpose and meaning of life.

The Ultimate Question

Many people don’t have meaning and they don’t want meaning because they’re afraid to face a fundamental question: “Why is life worth living?” They’re afraid there is no answer.

Why do you think life is worth living? Before you continue reading, spend a few minutes in prayer coming up with an answer. Every Christian needs an answer. What’s yours?

Recently, I decided to share this question on Facebook. I received a wide variety of responses.

Some posted photos of their friends and family – loved ones make life worth living. Others suggested the potential to grow or the promise of change – hope of a better life makes life worth living. Some, perhaps tongue-in-cheek, shared the things they enjoy. Hockey, pizza, cats, coffee, tacos – the pleasures of the world make life worth living. One friend said that participation in family, culture, and society makes life worth living.

The Ultimate Answer

In a sense, all of these reasons are true. They certainly bring excitement and happiness to life. Some reasons, such as family and friends, help us focus on “the other,” which frees us from the never-ending desire to please ourselves. There is a liberation there that brings new purpose to life and makes life worth living.

But, what if we took all of that away? What if we took away friends, family, and grandkids? What if we took away participation in society? What if we took away sports, food, and cute little kittens? Would life be worth living then?

This is more than just a hypothetical scenario. The loss of everything actually happens to people. It happens to drug addicts, strung out and living on the street. It happens to migrant children separated from their parents. It happens to innocent people languishing on death row. It happened to Job.

Some people are almost entirely deprived of beautiful things, loving people, and endless possibility. This is why, in the final analysis, the reasons I’ve listed so far are good, but not good enough. We must have a better reason for why life is worth living.

I think that reason is Heaven.

The Ultimate Ending

Heaven is the reason for life and the reason for your existence. Heaven is the reason for everything! God loves you and desperately desires a perfect relationship with you. That’s what Heaven is.

Of course, the only way to get there is to go through life first. And that’s not always easy.

Life is hard. It’s filled with injustice, pain, sickness, and sadness. Sometimes life doesn’t seem worth it at all. But, what if we looked at life a little differently? What if we looked at life from God’s perspective?

The thing about pain is that it can deceive us into thinking that pain is all there is. But, God sees the entire trajectory of life and the afterlife. From His perspective, this life and all its pain is a blink, a fraction of a moment, compared to the eternal joy and love that awaits us.

St. Paul lived life from God’s perspective, and his words are a great consolation whenever life gets too overwhelming:

“I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us” (Rom 8:18). “For this slight momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison” (2 Cor 4:17).

Eternal glory beyond all comparison! That’s what awaits us, that’s what we live for, that’s what you were created for, and that’s reason enough for a million mornings.

 

Nicholas Hardesty

I recently made the decision to sell a series of books by Hans Urs von Balthasar. They had always been treasures of mine but, at 16 volumes, I knew I would never get around to reading them. It’s not possible to buy them as a set anymore and their rarity tempted me to keep them, but a friend of mine is a devoted student of Balthasar’s work and I knew that these books would be better off in his hands than on my shelf, collecting dust.

I expected him to be excited to receive my box of treasure, but his joyful response still caught me off guard. “You know what I’m doing, right?” he said. “I’m stocking up on those Nicholas Hardesty second-class relics!”

I laughed it off, but inside his words rattled me. 2nd class relics? These dusty things? My stuff? “Maybe someday,” I thought, and then I let that radical idea drift away. In fact, I didn’t think about it anymore until a few days ago, when I read about the recent beatification of Carlo Acutis.

Carlo Acutis was a millennial who grew up in Milan, Italy. He loved the Eucharist from a very early age, and it panged him greatly whenever his friends would sin. He stood up for the disabled kids whenever they were being bullied. He comforted and befriended the classmates whose parents were going through a divorce. He once used all the money in his pocket to buy a sleeping bag for a homeless person. He went to Confession every week and Mass every day.

He died from leukemia on October 12, 2006. He was only 15 years old, but in that short time he established himself as both a great person of faith and a teenager firmly rooted in his day and age. He loved the internet, and video games, and soccer. He created videos of himself with his dog and uploaded them to YouTube. He taught himself computer programming, and he created a website that cataloged Eucharistic Miracles from all over the world.

As I read about his life and looked at photos of this teenager that looked like any other teenager, it dawned on me: His PlayStation is a second-class relic now. His computer keyboard, his soccer ball, his bookbag for school – they’re all second-class relics now! His extraordinary life made his ordinary stuff not ordinary anymore. Now these things are sacramentals with the power to open your heart and predispose it to receive the grace of Jesus. That’s the power of a life well lived.

Now, as a I think and pray about this modern-day saint with his modern-day hobbies, my heart is opened, too – opened to the possibility that sainthood doesn’t have to come “someday” for me. It can come here and now, in my own modern-day life.

Keep in mind, this little dynamo was born in 1991.

1991.

I was born before Carlo Acutis! If he was alive today he would be 29. If he can be a saint – in the “Age of the Internet”, from the millennial generation that we are all too quick to write off and declare hopeless – then certainly there’s hope for me. There’s hope for all of us.

Carlo once wrote in his journal (a second-class relic!), “Sadness is looking at oneself, happiness is looking at God. Conversion is nothing but a movement of the eyes.” Like Carlo, let’s set our eyes on Jesus, especially in the Eucharist. Let’s take our hobbies and turn them towards the good. Let’s love and defend those in need. Let’s fashion hearts repulsed by sin.

Carlo’s life is a challenge to us to seize the ordinary moments, encounters, conversations, and yes, even things, of our lives and make them extraordinary. I’m convinced now more than ever that that’s something I can do. And if my friend is smart, he’ll hold on to those books.

I’m feeling really good right now. It smells like Fall, and I tend to get a burst of energy before seasonal affective disorder sets in. I’m feeling secure in life, in friendships, and in Jesus.

This wasn’t the case about 5 months ago. I had convinced myself I wasn’t fulfilling any purpose, my friends would be bailing as soon as they had the chance, and that Jesus was sick of my perpetual failure. 

Have you heard the expression, “God is calling me into a season of (insert word)”? I always think I’m too good for catchy church slogans, but I was definitely hiding behind that one. I thought God was calling me to feel insecure in my life. That sounds completely ridiculous when I write it out. But Satan often makes us believe absurdities. 

The truth is that God is more faithful than seasons. I understand that this talk of “seasons” is an innocent phrase, but it takes the blame off of us and places it on God when things don’t go the way we were hoping. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard, “I don’t want x because God hasn’t placed it on my heart”, or “God isn’t placing the desire on my heart to date this guy.” No sis, you just don’t like him. And that’s OKAY! But it’s on you, not God! God respects our feelings and allows us to experience them freely. 

I think of this especially today on my feast day, the Memorial of St. Thérèse of Lisieux. Thérèse has been following me around for just about as long as I can remember. I received statues, paintings, and dolls of her at my First Communion! I’ve always taken comfort in the fact that her little self, like my little self, was a brat. Reading her story, especially the one where her sister asked her which toy she would pick and she said, “all of them,” made me realize that we would definitely be homies. She cried, constantly, too — another trait we have in common.

The “seasons” of Thérèse’s life were filled with uncertainty and tragedy. My heart swells at the thought of her younger sadness, as I felt it too. I was told my emotional nature would stop me from being holy or having a place in this world. “But I love my friend Thérèse, how can this be?” I would say in my prayers, begging God to take away my sadness that was looked down upon. I saw tough exterior, “powering through”, or “getting over it” as the goal to equal holiness.

How did my little friend do it? How was she holy in all the uncertain seasons of her life? How did she struggle with mental illness and still manage to be a saint?

Over the years, the Lord has patiently shown me He will love me despite my “seasons”. That there is no goal to be reached before He loves me. There’s no emotional bar I must hit before He calls me to holiness. If I keep waiting to hit that bar I will never start.

Thérèse embraced her sufferings and they are the very thing that purified her. So, I have told myself, “Enough with the ‘seasons’”. Jesus is simply calling me to holiness. The journey there will ebb and flow, but He can make it all as beautiful as the most perfect rose.