Saints or Superhumans? Hope in Everyday Humanity.

When alive, did the saints of old have some superhuman power to rise above the human condition, swat away struggles, and unflinchingly stand face-to-face with the Devil?

We turn to saints for solidarity in our struggle; their examples bring us hope and encouragement. We look to particular patron saints for specific struggles, which brings us confidence that our prayers for these extraordinary struggles will reach the ear of Christ, and we will be guided to the resolution of our struggles. In our desire for resolution, our hope, we often overlook a simple truth: the Saints weren’t always saints.

Before they were performing miracles, or their names were preceded with “Blessed” or “Saint” and followed with “Ora Pro Nobis” (“pray for us”), saints were just like us. They lived in the messy reality of life.

Even the “princes” of the Church, Peter and Paul, who were known to bump heads, had a rocky start (pun intended). Peter, the Rock on which Christ built his Church, was impulsive and headstrong. In the moments when Jesus needed him the most, he was either sleeping (in the garden) or denying him (three times at the Cross). Before penning what love is (1 Corinthians 13:4-7), Paul persecuted Christians. He needed to be knocked off his high horse, blinded, and left to be led by the hand back to Christ. Both needed to be renamed to become something new, to orient themselves entirely to Christ.

St. Francis, St. Ignatius, and St. Augustin, before becoming central figures of the Church, were party boys hoping for fame, fortune, and personal glory. Even some notable, non-saint figures had notable struggles. Dorothy Day was a radical bohemian who made a series of poor life decisions before her profound conversion. Henri Nouwen’s deep struggles with loneliness and insecurity gave rise to his classic work, The Wounded Healer. Thomas Merton wrestled with his demons throughout his life, even within the supposed peace of a monastery.

Hope Through Brokenness

Each of these individuals was, in a word, human. The brokenness of their life indicated a struggle founded in a need for control and a reactivity to the world around them. Their minds knew the good they should do, but their passions, wounds, and habits pulled them in the opposite direction. They lacked an integrated heart.

Despite their troubled pasts, each of these individuals navigated the complexities of their humanity and discovered the Grace of God. The difference was not in their lack of struggle, but in their journey through it. Their stories are ultimately not about the perfection they began with, but about the profound process of allowing God to make their hearts whole. They show us that the path to holiness doesn’t start with being perfect; it starts with the honest admission of our disintegration and the first, hopeful step toward an integrated heart.

Finding Your Way

The movement from a fragmented heart, based in fear, pain, wounds, and unhelpful habits, to an integrated heart, one that is whole in Christ. The key is not the struggle itself, but the way we navigate it. This is the path from a fragmented heart, driven by fear and pain, to an integrated heart that is whole in Christ.. In the upcoming work, Quomnia: A Catholic’s Way to Mental Health, Purpose, Healing, & Hope, we explore a simple yet powerful framework for this very process. But the first step is simply to lean into hope.

Take comfort in the stories of the saints overcoming struggle. Your struggle does not disqualify you; it is the very place God wants to meet you.

To begin exploring this framework for yourself, I invite you to download my free introductory guide, "The Integrated Heart Framework." It's a simple, faith-filled tool for understanding the stances of your heart and discovering the first step on the way to wholeness.