I carry a golden cross down the church aisle, leading my priest and deacon to the altar. People sing hymns of praise as the lights shine down on me. Around my neck is a crucifix that my aunt gave me after my first communion. This is what I do almost every Sunday now, and it’s hard to imagine my life without mass.

Yet, this isn’t how it used to be. Until I looked out into the abyss.

Years ago, all that existed in the world was the wind, the glistening ocean, Erick, and me. That wasn’t true, of course. At that moment, I was sitting at a table on a massive cruise ship, and behind us, people lined up for a night session of the Flowrider, a popular surfing simulator on the Oasis of the Seas.

I sat down with Erick, a friend I had met on the fourth day of a week-long vacation. He had short brown hair, wore a plain shirt and pants, and at seventeen, stood taller than thirteen-year-old me. We watched our ship slowly travel across the Atlantic. Originally, he watched from afar as his friend, Jonah, tried to talk to my cousin, Hannah. Erick thought that Jonah and Hannah would work well together, and he wanted Jonah to have someone to dance with during the sailaway party on the last night. We joked a bit about how far Jonah’s “charisma” was getting him.

Then, the ocean’s gentle void mesmerized us too much. It started with a simple mention of how beautiful yet scary the darkness out there was, but the abyss wanted more. It craved something deeper.

“Are you religious?” Erick asked.

Erick was a Christian. He came from a very religious family in Texas.

I was a different case.

“I’m Catholic, but I haven’t gone to church since I was really young. Most of my family isn’t that religious,” I said.

Besides my aunt Tricia and my cousins, no one in my family takes their faith seriously. My cousin Hannah wanted me to attend church. She wanted me to know God because of how much He has affected her life. She prayed ever since fifth grade that I would find him. Erick continued, “Alright. If you’re interested, I’d recommend going to church. It’s a gorgeous thing,” he said. He didn’t judge me or press me about why I hadn’t attended a service since the Great Recession. He was open. That’s what stuck with me.

“You’re a good guy. I want to see you go to Heaven. I want that for everyone. Life can get chaotic, but God has helped me through the turmoil, and I know he can do the same for anyone, even you. No matter where you go, as long as you find God, that is what matters.” That was another thing about Erick: the reason why I hung around him during those last few days on the ship. He was genuine. That’s how we even got to this discussion in the first place, the discussion that changed my life’s direction. He cared about the possibility of seeing me in eternal paradise.

That’s what brought me back to church. That’s what made me carry my own cross to the front of the altar and lay out my burdens and mistakes and dreams to God. That’s what gave me the chance to listen to His voice and receive Him in bread and wine.

I found God through the abyss.

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