Fields of Grace
A Renaissance of Faith, a New Pope, and how Ignorance can Truly be Bliss
I glanced down at the GPS, which read “5 minutes — 2.5 miles to destination.”
To which I thought, half in disbelief, “There’s a church out here?”
As far as the eye could see, there were ever-expanding fields—farmlands that stretched right up to the edge of the horizon.
The lonely two-lane road I drove along, hoping to “get to the church on time”, was empty, save for a few wind-swept brambles and the sun-mottled line down the middle.
Thankfully, the GPS wasn’t messing with me this time. Because as I pressed on, a handful of buildings rose into sight, right smack in the middle of Iroquois County, in the sleepy little town of Gilman, Illinois.
The journey had been marked by grain silos and railroad crossings, general stores, and freshly plowed fields—dark, rich earth giving rise to tiny green shoots just breaking through the surface.
It’s springtime on the plains. And everywhere else, for that matter.
A time of warm days and cool nights.
Of life-giving rains, and the quiet, stubborn emergence of new life.
As I entered the city limits, I was struck by how still everything was.
No cars.
No people.
Not even a stoplight to greet a lowly traveler.
So as I turned onto the narrow street that the Church of the Immaculate Conception was allegedly on, I was greeted by the one thing I never in a million years would have expected in this seemingly underpopulated part of the country…
Traffic.
The street was packed with cars and lined with little yellow and white Vatican flags dancing in the breeze. I had stumbled upon the one street in a hundred-mile radius where you couldn’t find a parking spot.
And I couldn’t help but smile.
They were here for Jesus.
One of the benefits of ignorance is that you’re constantly surprised.
I was surprised.
But I shouldn’t have been.
Covering last year’s inaugural Eucharistic Pilgrimages, I saw this same story unfold again and again. In cities and suburbs. In rural towns tucked between cornfields and mountain roads.
There would be festivities, food, fellowship, all in Celebration of the arrival of the Eucharistic Pilgrimages–in Celebration of the arrival of the Lord.
Communities would organize grand processions, Holy Hours, Masses, and Benediction, each a testimony to their Faith and Love for Christ.
It revealed not only the depth of their Faith but the depth of their longing for Christ.
While communities from the Bayou were radically different from those in San Francisco, this they shared right down to their core.
In the wake of Pope Francis’ passing and the election of Pope Leo XIV, there’s been a lot of talk about where the Church is headed.
For most Catholics, the Church means their home parish—and maybe a few headlines here and there. But headlines rarely tell the whole story… let alone tell it well.
I’ve had the rare gift of seeing the Church across America in person—
from Nebraska to New York City, and everywhere in between.
And here’s what I can tell you:
It’s flourishing.
You may not read it in the papers.
But you’ll find it in the parking lots of small-town churches.
In teenagers kneeling in Adoration.
In Bishops walking country roads, the Blessed Sacrament held high.
It’s springtime in the Catholic Church in America—not just on the calendar, but in the soul of the nation.
The Holy Spirit is moving.
The Revival is real.
Grace is rising in the unlikeliest places.
From coast to coast, seeds of renewal are being sown…
From the beginning, America has been called the land of the free and the home of the brave—a nation of opportunity and promise.
But perhaps its greatest promise has yet to be fulfilled.
Because of all the things this nation can become,
Its highest calling—the One that would Bless its people and the world beyond—is this:
That it might turn, as a nation, to Christ…
And this land might become a never-ending field of Grace.
Thanks for reading!
This publication is truly independent and entirely reader-supported, which means your support directly sustains this work. If you're able, please consider becoming a paid subscriber or making a "Patron of the Arts" donation of any amount. By doing so, you’re not just keeping this mission alive—you become an essential partner in sharing stories of faith, hope, and beauty.I’m deeply grateful for your generosity and support. Please keep me in your prayers, and know that you’re always in mine.
God bless,
Jeff
Follow along with the Pilgrimage on Social Media!
From the Archives
You have captured so well something I’ve been noticing and feeling. ✝️
Amen and amen, Jeff.