Catholicism Isn’t Supposed to Be Easy.

The truth hurts sometimes, and that's okay

There’s a reality that every Catholic, whether convert or cradle, has to face at some point in their spiritual life. Eventually, the Church is going to ask something of you that you don’t want to give. It may be a sin you’ve grown attached to, a relationship that isn’t rightly ordered, or a behavior you’ve justified for years. It might be a mindset, a wound, a personal comfort, or even an identity you’ve clung to so tightly that letting go feels like losing yourself. And when that moment comes, and it always does, you’ll be tempted to think something has gone wrong. That maybe the Church is too rigid, or your priest is out of touch, or the Catechism doesn’t understand what you’re dealing with.

You might even begin to think that the problem is Catholicism itself. But it isn’t.

We live in an age that equates difficulty with dysfunction. If something is hard, we assume it must be flawed. If a teaching makes us uncomfortable, it must be outdated or oppressive. But that’s not how the Church works. And it’s certainly not how truth works. The reality is that struggling with Church teaching doesn’t mean the Church is broken, it means you are. That may sound harsh, but it’s the foundation of the Gospel. The call to conversion assumes that there’s something in us that needs to be changed.

The teachings of Christ, preserved and proclaimed by His Church, are not here to affirm us in our brokenness but to heal us from it. And healing is almost always painful.

We weren’t promised a comfortable religion. Christ didn’t say, “Come to Me, and I’ll make everything easy.” He said, “Take up your cross and follow Me.” From the very beginning, the Christian life was presented as a death to self. That is a spiritual reality.

If your faith never hurts, if it never costs you anything, if it always affirms your instincts and never challenges your desires, then you’re not following Christ. You’re following a version of Him you’ve made in your own image.

It’s easy to be obedient when obedience is convenient. But what happens when it’s not? What happens when the Church’s teaching cuts across your will, your emotions, or your lived experience? In today’s world, that’s when people start looking for an off-ramp.

You’ll hear it all the time when people say, “I just don’t see how this teaching is loving,” or “I know the Church says that, but my conscience tells me otherwise.” The assumption is that if something feels hard or unnatural, it must be wrong. That’s not discernment. That’s pride dressed up as moral clarity.

One of the most damaging lies modern Catholics believe is that personal struggle is proof that the Church must change. But the saints show us the opposite. St. Augustine spent years chained to lust before he submitted to grace. St. Teresa of Ávila admitted that God’s treatment of His friends made her wonder why He had any. Even St. Peter tried to talk Christ out of the Cross, and was rebuked as “Satan” for doing so.

None of them were told to follow their feelings.

They were told to obey.

They were told to trust.

And in that obedience, even when it was agonizing, they found freedom.

If you’re a convert, you may have come into the Church after long months or years of searching, studying, and comparing doctrines. That process often builds a strong intellectual foundation, but it can also breed a hidden expectation: that now that you’ve found the truth, the hard part is over. But in many ways, the struggle is just beginning. Knowing the truth is one thing. Living it, especially when it disrupts your comfort or contradicts your preferences, is another.

You’re going to hit teachings that test you.

Maybe it’s the Church’s stance on contraception. Maybe it’s the call to forgive someone who hurt you deeply. Maybe it’s a teaching on marriage, sexuality, or confession. And in that moment, you’ll be tempted to think that your situation is different. That you’re the exception. That your pain, your history, your heartache somehow exempts you. But it doesn’t. The Church isn’t in the business of carving out exceptions to divine law. She’s in the business of saving souls.

That’s what makes Catholicism so radical. It refuses to conform to us. It invites us to be conformed to Christ instead and that transformation doesn’t happen without cost. It takes time. It takes grace. And it takes a willingness to obey even when you don’t fully understand or when it sucks to do so. Especially then.

If you find yourself thinking, “I believe the Church is right, but I just can’t do it,” then good. That’s the beginning of real discipleship. That’s the moment when you stop relying on your own strength and start crying out for grace. Because Catholicism isn’t about white-knuckling your way to moral perfection. It’s about surrendering your weakness to the One who can actually change you. The Church doesn’t just hand you the commandments. She offers you the sacraments. She offers you grace. Not just to forgive your sins, but to empower you to rise again. To fight. To try again. To walk forward with your cross, even if you stumble under it.

There are no shortcuts. No loopholes. And no easy paths. The Cross is the only way through. It always has been. And if you’re following Christ, you should expect to be wounded. You should expect to wrestle with teachings you wish you didn’t have to hear. That doesn’t mean you’re doing something wrong. It means your soul is being stretched.

So if the Church’s teachings hurt sometimes, good. That means you’re finally hitting the parts of yourself that need to be crucified. That’s not oppression. That’s salvation. And if you feel like you’re failing under the weight of it, remember that sanctity isn’t about never falling, but it’s about getting up one more time than you fall. It’s about keeping your eyes on Christ, trusting that He meant what He said when He promised that His grace would be sufficient.

The Church was never meant to be easy. It was meant to be true. And the truth will set you free, but only if you let it break you first.