An Easter Week Revelation: God Is Perfect, Man, Not So Much

Ruben Navarrette
Tue, 07 Apr 2026 17:56:02 -0700
Opinion

SAN DIEGO — I'm good with God. It's His most imperfect creation — i.e., man — that I have problems with.

This Easter Week, I'm sorting it out. I'm trying to get comfortable with my faith despite being uncomfortable with organized religion.

At 58, I've never felt closer to God — or farther away from regular churchgoers.
Updated: Tue Apr 07, 2026

SAN DIEGO — I'm good with God. It's His most imperfect creation — i.e., man — that I have problems with.

This Easter Week, I'm sorting it out. I'm trying to get comfortable with my faith despite being uncomfortable with organized religion.

At 58, I've never felt closer to God — or farther away from regular churchgoers.

In the last 10 days, I've come across articles detailing how much of Generation Z is experiencing a religious revival. Many Americans born between 1997 and 2012 are shirking off the cynicism of their Generation X parents and flocking to church.

Good for The Z.

Harvard professor, best-selling author and happiness expert Arthur C. Brooks has said that he goes to Catholic mass every morning with his wife. The social scientist uses the daily 30 min. ritual for "serious contemplation, wisdom, reading or prayer."

Good for Brooks.

My idea of a prophet is Bob Dylan. And to quote him, that ain't me, babe. Until last Easter, I hadn't been to church for nearly a decade.

As a Catholic, and a journalist, what drove me out was a groundbreaking 2002 investigative story in the Boston Globe that revealed the same Church that had sustained me in times of trouble had also behaved like a criminal syndicate to cover up a pedophile scandal that involved priests. Haunted by the thought that the money I dropped in the offering basket might help pay settlements with abuse victims, I stopped going to mass.

I wasn't the only one. The number of men becoming priests has dropped, and fewer Catholics go to church than in past years, even though young people are increasingly interested in spiritual matters.

In February 2025, the Pew Research Center released a survey on religion in America — the first major study on that topic in more than a decade. Only 19% of Americans self-identified as Catholic, down from 24% in 2007. Most shocking of all, the study found that, for every 100 people who join the Catholic Church, 840 leave.

When I left the church, I got closer to God. The two of us have developed a pretty decent relationship based not on words but deeds.

My father — who recently passed away — had a servant's heart. I inherited it. I've made it my mission to care for loved ones. That might earn points with the man upstairs.

I take parenthood seriously. With my wife, I'm raising my kids to be good people. That means vibing with the four "-ful"s: thoughtful, helpful, grateful and thankful.

I ask God for strength at my weaker moments, like when I lose a loved one. When I'm feeling vulnerable, it's comforting to know I don't have to face life on my own.

Each day, I feel his protective embrace over me, my wife and kids, family and friends. I pray. Yet I don't proselytize. Your faith, or lack thereof, is your business. As for me, I've never doubted that He is in my corner. For that, I am most grateful.

For the last year, I have tried something new — or rather something old that's new again. On most Sundays, you can find me attending church with my wife and 16-year-old daughter. It's a mostly white Evangelical Christian church near our home where the mission is — from its website — to "help people to live and love like Jesus."

As one of the few Latinos at the service, I don't feel comfortable. I go because my teenager told me a few years ago that — despite her dad's religious ambivalence — she wanted to get closer to God. Going to church inspires her. Me, not so much.

Here's one reason. The year that I've attended that church coincided with a slew of brutal immigration raids by Immigration and Customs Enforcement. In a neighborhood that is just a stone's throw from the church, ICE agents recently arrested a group of undocumented immigrants — the kind whose sweat helps the wealthy members of the congregation live comfortable lives.

The Bible is unequivocally pro-immigrant. Yet, about the raid, or the larger immigration issue, the pastor — a white man with a passion for surfing — has said nothing. Not a word. Not for the entire year. But let the record show, the church does organize charity giveaways to desperate people in Africa and South America.

I come back to where I started. I don't need a middleman when I speak to God — especially when so many of those men are so flawed.