S1E10 Vocation: A Life of Discipleship

Season One comes to a close with a simple but powerful reminder: faith is meant to be lived.

Throughout this journey, we've explored the teachings of the Catholic Church—not as doctrines to memorize, but as invitations to know Christ more deeply. In this final episode, we reflect on how God often works through ordinary moments, faithful choices, and simple acts of love to transform our lives and the lives of those around us.

Whether you're taking your first steps in the faith or have walked with Christ for many years, this episode is an encouragement to keep learning, keep growing, and keep saying "yes" to God's call.

Because discipleship isn't about extraordinary moments alone—it's about faithfully living the Gospel, one day at a time.

Follow along this season now with the official Cats & Dogs Companion Journal available now on Amazon. 

Themes:

• Vocation as God’s invitation
• Formation through ordinary life
• The journey of becoming
• Discipleship in action
• Holiness in the ordinary

Reflection Questions:

1. Looking back, what experiences, relationships, or challenges have helped form the person you are becoming? Where might you see God’s presence in those moments?

2. What gifts, passions, or opportunities has God placed in your life that might be invitations to serve others?

3. Where are you being called to live as a disciple right now—in your family, work, friendships, community, or daily routines?

Transcript

SPEAKER_00 0:15

Welcome to Cats and Dogs, the Catechism and Dogma of the Catholic Church. I'm your host, Megan Donahue, and here goes something. Before we begin today's episode, I'd like to take a moment to say thank you. Thank you to everyone who has supported me in this spiritual exercise. Thank you to everyone who has let me bounce ideas off of them. For those who listened to the podcast along the way, to those who shared an episode with a friend, and for those who asked, what's next? When I recorded the first episode nearly a year ago, I wasn't entirely sure how it would unfold. It was part experiment, part invitation, part hope. I hoped these conversations might make the catechism feel a little less intimidating. I hoped they might help someone understand the Catholic faith a little more deeply. But perhaps more than anything, I hoped they might remind us that our faith isn't simply something we study, it's something we live. Now here we are ten episodes later, and looking back, I realized something I didn't fully understand when we began. We weren't simply learning about the Catholic faith. We were allowing the Catholic faith to teach us. Over these past months, we've explored the foundations of belief through the catechism and the creed. We've reflected on the communion of saints and discovered that none of us walks alone. We practice gratitude, not simply as good manners, but as a way of seeing the world differently. We prayed with sacramentals and the rosary, learning that ordinary things can become signs of extraordinary grace. Together we walked through Advent, recognized Christ at Epiphany, entered into the invitation of Lent, and celebrated the transforming power of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost. At first glance, these might seem like ten separate conversations, but I don't think they were. I think they were one journey, a journey of formation. We learned that faith has a foundation, that belief becomes relationship, that gratitude changes the way we see, that prayer changes the way we live, that the seasons of the church slowly shape the seasons of our heart. And today we arrive at the question that naturally follows everything we've explored. What does faith look like when lived out with a deeper understanding and a more open heart? But before we can talk about that, let's talk about formation to vocation. Because vocation isn't something we simply choose one day. More often it's something we gradually discovered. The word vocation comes from the Latin vocare, to call. When many people hear that word, they tend to think first the priests, sisters, brothers, or deacons. No argument here. Those are beautiful vocations. But the church teaches something much broader. Every baptized Christian has a vocation. Every one of us has been called by God. Not necessarily to the same work, but to the same holiness, to the same discipleship, to the same invitation to become more fully the person God created us to be. The Catechism of the Catholic Church, CCC 2023, reminds us that all faithful are called to the fullness of Christian life and to the perfection of charity. CCC 898-900 also speaks specifically about the vocation of the laity sanctifying the world through ordinary life. Notice what it doesn't say. It doesn't say only priests, or only saints, or only theologians. It says all the faithful. The beautiful thing about God's call is that it isn't a blueprint dropped into our laps. It unfolds slowly, patiently, often through ordinary experiences we don't recognize as important until years later. When I look back on my own life, that's exactly what I see. Not a straight line, not a master plan, but a thousand small moments that God quietly used to prepare me for the next one. This calling isn't meant to be forced or rushed. Rather, it is slowly revealed through grace, relationships, experiences, and the moments that shape who we become. To help visualize this in a more personal way, I'd like to invite you to do something for just a moment. Think back on your younger self. Who did you imagine becoming? When you were eight, or ten, or twelve, what did you dream about? Maybe your answer has changed many times. Mine certainly has. When I was in fourth grade, I missed quite a lot of school because of surgery. Thankfully, my teachers were incredibly creative. Instead of simply sending worksheets home, they designed project-based learning experiences that allowed me to continue exploring and asking questions, pretty groundbreaking at the time. One project led me to write letters to NASA. Another had me requesting information from the state of Michigan. This was long before the internet existed. If I wanted to know something, I couldn't just type a question into a search engine. I had to ask, in this case, in a form of written letter, I had to wait for it to arrive at my designated location and hope for an answer back. And I was left to wonder. Those projects taught me something that had very little to do with science. It taught me about I loved to learn. And for a while I was absolutely convinced I was going to become an astronaut. Well, that did not happen. But the dream wasn't really about space. Perhaps it was about curiosity. Perhaps God was already nurturing something much deeper than the career itself. By seventh grade, surprise, my interest had shifted. I found myself completely captivated by stories. I read The Bronte Sisters, Jane Austen, Charles Dickens, William Shakespeare, C.S. Lewis, Tolkien, each author expanded my imagination, each invited me into a different way of seeing the world, and before long I had another dream. I wanted to become a writer. That's not exactly what happened. But maybe writing doesn't always look like publishing novels. For me, it looks like lesson plans and podcast scripts. Sometimes it looks like reflections shared with people I've never even met. I might not have known at that moment in seventh grade all the details that would become my life. But I had started to notice something, and funnily enough, it goes along with a message I share with my students now. When we pray, God always answers. But the answer may not be what we are expecting. So when I teach about prayer, I often remind my students to not hold a specific answer in our hearts. Rather, offer up the worry, the concern, the hope, and ask God to help us best accept the path forward. Have you ever noticed that God often fulfills our deepest desires? Just not in the way we first imagined. As I entered high school, another surprise came along. I discovered that I loved helping classmates understand difficult concepts. If someone was confused, I could usually explain it in a way that made sense. Ironically, when I went home to finish my own homework, especially math or science, I sometimes wondered if I'd understood it at all. But the experience taught me something important. Sometimes our gifts become visible long before we recognize them ourselves. I didn't realize it then. God was planting the seeds of being a teacher. I just hadn't figured it out yet. He knew what I was still becoming. I was still in the process of being formed. Over time, I started to notice that where I excelled, I also felt challenge. And it's those moments of personal challenge where I began to hear the voice of God more clearly. God was calling me to try my hand at different things. To see what I enjoyed and where I felt I was able to help others, but in a way where I could also grow, never at the expense of myself. There wasn't one defining moment when I suddenly understood God's whole plan for my life. There wasn't a lightning bolt. There wasn't a voice from heaven. There wasn't even a single decision that changed everything. Instead, there were dozens of small yeses. I think that's how discipleship usually works. Not always in dramatic moments, but in ordinary faithfulness. By the time I reached high school, I found myself saying yes to service opportunities without realizing it. I helped with parish youth programs, I sang in choir. I volunteered with teams when I was no longer able to play after a knee surgery. After confirmation, I became a catechist. There were food drives, service projects, tutoring. By senior year, I had accumulated well over 100 hours of service annually in high school. And the funny thing is, I wasn't always just trying to collect the hours. I definitely was not purposefully building a resume. I was simply saying yes to the opportunities God kept placing in front of me. In hindsight, I see something I couldn't see then. God wasn't keeping track of my volunteer hours. He was forming my heart. In the academic and professional world now, it sometimes feels like all we do is measure accomplishments. There have been seasons when I've wondered whether my work was being seen or valued. Those experiences taught me that my identity couldn't rest only on recognition. God's work of formation was deeper than anyone else's approval. People might be easily distracted by a destination, but God delights in the journey. In class, many of my students engage in works of service at various volunteering sites, much like I did. Not only is service an important Christian virtue, I tell my students that it's a great way to explore different interests. At the very least, may help eliminate things you don't enjoy or maybe aren't even good at. Service often changes the one serving as much as the one being served, if done with the proper attitude. Sometimes you volunteer somewhere and discover a passion you never knew you had. You might also discover something you're not particularly good at. And that's okay too. Discernment isn't just about finding what gives you life. Sometimes it's about gently recognizing what doesn't. Both are valuable. It's also one of the best ways to discover who God created you to be. Those are beautiful vocations and amazing stories, but they're not the only stories worthy of God's glory. The Catechism of the Catholic Church, CCC 900, reminds us that the lay faithful exercise their apostolate by their activity directed to the evangelization and sanctification of people. In other words, most disciples live holy lives in ordinary places, the kitchen table, a classroom, a hospital room, the office, construction sites, grocery stores, soccer field sidelines, retirement communities, in neighborhoods where kindness may be the loudest sermon anyone hears that day. Holiness rarely looks spectacular. Most of the time, holiness is simply discipleship lived consistently in the middle of everything ordinary. The Second Vatican Council in Lumen Genthium reminded us that every member of the church is called to holiness, not just a few extraordinary people. Now I know I've been incredibly blessed that my vocation and my profession have become deeply intertwined. Teaching is how I earn a living, yes, but it is also one of the primary ways God continues to shape me. Some days I do really well, some days I struggle. Some days I leave school encouraged. Other days I replay conversations in my head all the way home, wishing I had responded differently. But even those difficult days become part of my formation because vocation isn't only about using our gifts, it's also about allowing God to refine them within us. Speaking as a teacher, there are times when professional development isn't inspiring. It always seems to fall on days where that required workshop is also the same day I really just need to set my classroom up in order to feel somewhat prepared for the year. Or it's on a day when I really need to finish report card comments before I have to be turn them in. Even though I know the idea behind professional development is to help me become a better teacher, some of those sessions have been almost unbearable. And going into a workshop, it would be hard to not have a bad attitude. Of course, having teacher friends alongside me to suffer in the same way always helped. But I would find I was making deals with myself. Okay, I just need to find one good thing in this workshop, or, you know, help me rediscover something that I maybe forgotten a while ago that I can reuse this year and make it all worthwhile. That wasn't very productive or healthy. So instead of making a deal with myself, I started to reframe how I looked at professional development as more of a spiritual development in my mind. When I made that change of just how I thought about it, a lot of other things started to change too. So every conference I attended, every difficult parent conversation, every lesson that fell flat and needed to be reformatted, every student who asked an unexpected question that caught me off guard, every success, every failure, all of it became part of God's classroom for me. I like to say I am a lifelong learner. When I made that change in my mind, I was able to remind myself that thankfully I'm still one of God's students. One of the things I love about scripture is that God rarely calls the person everyone else expects. In the first book of Samuel, chapter 3, verse 1 to 18, Samuel is a young boy living in the temple, learning to recognize God's voice. At first, he mistook the voice he heard in the night for Eli calling him. It took time and patience, and Eli's guiding assistance to help him understand that it was actually God. Vocation seems to me like it begins the same way, not always with certainty, but with learning to recognize God's voice amid all the others. In Luke chapter 1, verse 26 to 38, the angel Gabriel appeared to Mary. She wasn't looking for greatness. She wasn't building a career. She wasn't trying to become one of the most influential women in history. She simply answered God's invitation with remarkable trust. Let it be done to me according to your word. Then there were fishermen in Luke chapter 5, verse 1 to 11. Simon, later renamed Peter, James, John. Jesus didn't approach them in the synagogue where they were expecting to hear about faith. He met them where they were, by their boats. Ordinary people, being invited to do ordinary things. Jesus said, Follow me. He didn't promise that the journey would be easy. He promised that it would have purpose. Jesus tells his disciples in Matthew chapter 28, verse 19, go therefore and make disciples of all nations. Notice Jesus doesn't simply say, go teach. He says, make disciples. Because discipleship isn't merely passing on information. It's about helping another person become. That's the quiet work of the church all along. Not simply teaching doctrines. Forming disciples. As I look back over this first season, I find myself wondering if that's exactly what God has been doing all along. Not simply teaching us more about Him, but gently forming us. One ordinary day, one ordinary prayer, one ordinary yes. There are moments in life that only make sense in hindsight. Paths that didn't feel fully chosen at the time, but became the very experiences that shaped us. Responsibilities we never expected, or friendships we never planned. Disappointments that redirected us, unexpected joys that reminded us God was nearer than we realized. When I look back at my life, I don't see a perfectly planned path. I see a patient God. A God who never stopped teaching or inviting or forming. It wasn't one decision or one career choice, one defining moment. It was a lifetime of learning to recognize God's presence in my everyday life. That's what vocation is. That doesn't mean that every chapter of our lives is going to be easy. There are seasons when prayer feels quiet, when work becomes difficult, when relationships require forgiveness, when the future feels uncertain. Discipleship doesn't remove those moments. It changes how we walk through them. From a faith perspective, there's a couple different versions. One of my favorites is the writer Henry Nowan, who says, spiritual formation means moving gradually from the concerns of the self to the concerns of God. C.S. Lewis also wrote, The great thing, if one can, is to stop regarding all the unpleasant things as interruptions of one's own life. The truth is, of course, that when one calls the interruptions are precisely one's life. I think both Nawan and Lewis are pointing toward the same truth. God rarely forms us apart from the everyday life. He forms us through it. Conversations, responsibilities, joys, disappointments. We might be waiting for a grand revelation. Meanwhile, God has been quietly speaking. Through the ordinary all along. One of the questions students often ask is: Is this for a grade? Will this be on a test? I understand the question. We all like knowing what matters. But faith works differently. One might even say mysteriously. As disciples, the goal is never simply to know the right answers. The goal is to become a kind of person whose life begins to look a little more like Christ. Perhaps that's the only test that really matters. As we spent this past year together, I realize that when we began the podcast, I thought I was creating a series about catechism. But I really think it's turned into something else. I think it's become more of a journey of formation. Maybe you came looking for answers. Perhaps you wanted to understand Catholic teaching a little better. Whatever brought you here, my hope is that you've discovered something more than information. I hope you've begun seeing differently. I hope you've noticed that people who have helped you form your faith. The quiet moments when God was present, the gifts you've been given, the places where you've been invited to grow. And yes, the person God is still inviting you to become, because formation is never finished. I'd like to leave you with one final reflection, not a conclusion, but an invitation. Where in your life is God already at work? Not where will you be in five years? Not what will it look like when everything is figured out today. Where in your life is God already at work? Where are you already being invited to live as Christ's disciple? Vocation isn't waiting for some future version of you. It's unfolding. Right where you already are as Saint Paul writes in his letter to the Ephesians chapter 4, verse 1, I therefore a prisoner for the Lord, urge you to live in a manner worthy of the calling you have received. If these reflections have been meaningful to you, I'm excited to share that I've created a companion journal for season one. The journal isn't another textbook, it's simply a place to continue the conversation, a place to pray, write, reflect, and to notice the ways God has been working on your own story. If you'd like to learn more, you can find it through the links on the podcast website. Whether you've listened to one episode or all ten, thank you. Thank you for giving me the privilege of walking alongside you. Thank you for your questions, for your kindness, and for allowing me to continue learning as well. When I recorded the very first episode of this podcast, I began with three simple words. Here goes something. This may be the end of our first season, but it's not the end of our formation together. Tomorrow, God will still be teaching. The church will still be walking beside us. The Holy Spirit will still be gently leading us, and Christ will still be calling. And we will once again be invited to begin. So perhaps those three little words still fit. Here goes something. Until next season, may God bless you, keep you, and continue forming you into the disciple he has created you to be. Thank you for joining me for this first season of Cats and Dogs, The Catechism and Dogma of the Catholic Church. I'm your host, Megan Donahue.