Chances are you’ve stopped, at some point, to think about all the people out there who don’t know God, or who have a completely wrong idea of who He is.

In the early Church, Christians set out on long journeys to spread the Gospel. The apostle James travelled to the edge of the known world, all the way to Finisterre, which back then was considered, quite literally, the end of the earth. Centuries later, St. Francis Xavier, a 16th-century Spaniard, crossed seas and continents and died at the gates of China. All so that people who had never heard of Jesus could come to know Him.

We tend to picture missionaries as people who cross oceans, like the great saints who travelled the world proclaiming Christ, or the missionaries who are still out there doing that today. St. Charles Lwanga, a young page in the royal court of Buganda (in what’s now Uganda) who became a catechist to his fellow pages right after his own baptism, teaching them the faith and even baptizing some of them himself when there was no time to wait for a priest. He was martyred in 1886 rather than give up sharing his faith.

You don’t necessarily need to get on a boat either. Right where you are, in your everyday life, you run into plenty of people who have barely heard of Jesus.

Cardinal John Henry Newman put it like this: “Any child, well instructed in the catechism, is, without intending it, a real missioner.” He was talking about you too. A missionary isn’t just someone who travels far away; it’s anyone who hands on the faith wherever they happen to be. That’s the adventure knocking on your door. Concretely, that adventure often looks like catechesis: sitting down, week after week, to teach kids the basics of the faith, often at a parish, for instance to help them prepare for a sacrament.

Receive, live... and go out and give

When St. Josemaría started Opus Dei, he started among young people, ordinary students, with exams, friends, and plans for the future. On January 21, 1933, the first St. Raphael circle took place. The very next day, those same young men, encouraged by St. Josemaría, went to a parish in a poor part of Madrid to teach catechism — the basics of the faith — to children preparing for their First Communion.

There was no time to settle in. This wasn’t a group meant just for listening. From the beginning, St. Raphael rested on both the head and the heart, both receiving and giving. They received a circle, and they went out to give to others right away. It’s always both. Faith that’s only ever listened to, and never shared, eventually goes cold.

That same invitation to give away what you’ve received still stands today. St. Josemaría once asked Adolfo Rodríguez Vidal (a member of Opus Dei who later became a priest and a bishop), “Would you dare go to Chile?” That question set off the adventure of his life. We too are called to answer God’s “dares,” even though for most of us that usually doesn’t mean travelling far away, but throwing ourselves into making Jesus known in our everyday routine, in our city, in our neighborhood.

So the question gets personal: what about you? Would you dare to throw yourself into making Jesus known? Would you dare to be a catechist?

Formation isn’t meant to be kept to yourself

When St. Josemaría wrote in The Forge, “There is an urgent need for spreading the doctrine of Christ. Store up your training, fill yourself with clear ideas, with the fullness of the Christian message, so that afterwards you can pass it on to others,” he was thinking of people like you. Maybe you don’t feel especially well-prepared. Maybe you can’t remember much of what you learned before your First Communion. Maybe there are things you don’t fully understand or wouldn’t quite know how to explain.

But nobody starts out an expert. You start by saying yes.

Every week, in your circle, at formation talks, in spiritual direction, during meditations, you take part in what St. Josemaría called “a great catechesis” — Opus Dei itself. That formation helps you live as a coherent Christian in the middle of the world. But it can’t just stop there. It’s meant to become life, and then to be given away. Giving catechesis is one way to do that.

Whoever gives the most, receives the most

“Nobody gives what he doesn’t have,” the saying goes. True enough. But the opposite is just as true: the moment you try to give, you realize how much you still need to receive. As St. Josemaría put it in The Way: “Apostolic soul: first of all, yourself.”

Whoever commits to teaching catechism starts asking new questions. He wants to explain things better. He looks things up. He reads more. He prays more. He asks about what he doesn’t understand. He takes his own Christian life more seriously, because he knows other people are counting on him. And almost without noticing, his relationship with the Lord gets stronger, and his interior life grows right along with it.

Jesus promised a hundredfold to those who followed Him generously. In catechesis, that promise plays out in a very concrete way: it looks like you’re the one teaching, but you’re actually learning the most. It looks like you’re the one giving, but you’re the one who ends up receiving the most.

Everyone comes out ahead in catechesis. But the catechist comes out furthest ahead of all, becoming a real apostle of Christ, joyful, able to light the way for others just by living a clear, coherent life.

Planting a seed in someone’s heart

Pope Leo XIV has pointed out that forming someone in the faith isn’t about drilling facts into them; it’s about placing the word of life in their heart so it can bear fruit. That’s what catechesis is: planting a seed.

Teaching a child to make the sign of the cross. Telling him that Jesus is his best friend. Explaining that he has a Father in heaven, and a Mother who is the Virgin Mary. Encouraging him to talk to his Guardian Angel. Praying his first prayers with him. Walking with him all the way to his Confirmation or First Communion, knowing that day will mark his life forever.

It comes down to giving other people what you were given for free, and it’s not just any gift, but the greatest gift anyone could ever receive.

Before ascending into heaven, Jesus told us: “Go into the whole world and proclaim the Gospel.” He wasn’t only talking to Peter, James, John, and whoever else happened to be standing there. He’s saying it to us, today. The Church needs us. The world needs Christians who don’t just stay in the realm of theory and actually get to work.

As Christians, we’re part of the biggest revolution there’s ever been. We’ve each received a very specific calling, with our own name on it, to give our lives in service of the Church and the world. And that service comes down to meeting the concrete needs of the Church in your city, in your neighborhood, in your parish.

St. Raphael: learning in order to go out

Catechesis isn’t just one more item on a checklist in the St. Raphael work. It’s been there from day one.

What you hear in your circle doesn’t end when the talk does. It really starts when you pray about it, live it out... and share it. Formation prepares your heart; catechesis stretches it wider.

“Apostolate is the precise and necessary outward manifestation of interior life. When one tastes the love of God, one feels burdened with the weight of souls,” St. Josemaría said. We’ve received so much from God. We know we’re privileged, and we’re amazed that the Lord has given us so much. The desire to give to others is born out of that wonder and gratitude for everything God has given us. You receive, and you give. You give, and you grow. And in that exchange, God never lets Himself be outdone in generosity.

Maybe, for you, it starts with something as simple as saying yes to helping out with a one-hour class at a particular parish. But behind that small yes is something much bigger: letting God use you so that the Gospel reaches others through your life.