Thirty years after receiving Baptism in the same church, Friar Randy Josue Campos Porras returned to the place where his journey of faith began to say a “yes” forever. After making his solemn profession as an Augustinian Recollect, he explained his vocation with a simple certainty: he was not celebrating having achieved a dream, but the faithfulness of a God who called first.
Some questions can stay with you for years. What does God want from me? What am I here for? What if God is calling me? Would I be able to leave everything behind? How can I know if I truly have a vocation?
Friar Randy Josue Campos Porras also had to answer those questions. And on the day of his solemn profession as an Augustinian Recollect, he did so publicly and forever.
He didn’t speak of heroes or extraordinary people. Nor did he present his vocation as the story of someone who one day decided to be generous and give everything to God. He spoke of fragility, of fear, of people who accompany you, and above all, of a God who goes ahead of us and loves first.
These were his words after making his solemn profession.
God called me, and I have only wanted to respond
On March 31, 1996, in this church, I received, at the hands of an Augustinian Recollect, Friar Miguel Contreras, the waters of Baptism, and thus began my journey of faith with my parents by my side. Today, 30 years later, in this same church, also before an Augustinian Recollect, with my parents and Our Lady of Mount Carmel as witnesses, I reaffirm my baptismal consecration by professing the evangelical counsels of poverty, chastity, and obedience.
The theology of consecrated life says that the life of the consecrated person should be an expression and prophecy of the goods of heaven, but the reality is that I am a fragile and sinful human being. For that reason, the joy that fills me today, and the reason we celebrate, is not because someone has “fulfilled a dream” or because someone has “been generous in giving himself to the Lord.” No. Today we celebrate God’s faithfulness.
God called me. God calls all of us. And today I have only wanted to respond from within my limitations.
“Whoever comes to Christ passes from fear to love, and begins to be able, through love, to do what he could not do through fear,” says our father Saint Augustine in Sermon 32.
I chose this line for today because my whole process—not only vocational, but also in life—has been a constant rediscovery of the love God has for me; discovering that, before I could even respond, He had already come out to meet me and had dispelled my fear.
Only the one who truly discovers himself loved by an eternal love can give himself and spend his life so that others, too, may know that someone loves them.
That is what I want my consecration to be about. Pray that it may be so.
My gratitude is, first of all, for the faithful God who has been my companion, and for His Mother, who in mysterious ways has always accompanied my journey.
A vocation you never walk alone
I want to thank Dad and Mom. They supported me from the very first day when, afraid, I told them I wanted to enter this adventure. I know it has also been hard for them to have me far away, especially in difficult moments with Dad’s health and, in general, with family matters. And yet, always brave, they have never complained about this path I chose; on the contrary, they have always shown gratitude to God, and I know they have not stopped praying for this moment.
It would not have been possible for me to be here today if it weren’t for my brother Jeremy, because he has taken on a responsibility that wasn’t his alone, to allow me to continue this vocation. And I don’t know if I’ve told you this clearly enough, but: thank you so much for that. God will repay you.
My family, in general, has been very generous, and God knows how much I love and thank them: from my grandmothers, who planted the faith in the family and who are no longer here, but look on us smiling from heaven, as well as Macho, Aunt Enid, Uncle Allan, and all those who have already gone. Blessed be God for their lives.
Thank you to Aunt Mila and everyone in her household, to Aunt Marta and her children, to all my relatives.
I have so much to thank my church community for, that first community that taught me to be Church, to live in fraternity: my Santa Rosa de Lima community in Montecillos.
There I made friends, but above all, brothers—many of whom are here today and have worked for this celebration. Thank you to all who were my catechists, companions, and fellow servants. Thank you to the friars who were there during that period of my life and who are now no longer with us or serve in other places, like Friar Jesús Ortega, Friar Pedro Apesteguía, Friar José Luis, Luis, Bernardo, and Chencho, and so many others.
That is why today I wanted the image of Saint Rose to be part of this celebration, to remember my love for this community and its fundamental role in my vocation.
Thank you to my friends, who showed me throughout my whole life, as happened to Saint Augustine, that without friends you cannot be fully human. Thanks, guys.
Letting yourself be accompanied to discover your vocation
Thank you to my communities from the time I entered the postulancy in 2016, there in Pozos de Santa Ana, and to the good people I met there.
Thank you to my formators and companions; to Friar Víctor, who was a close father in this first period; to Friar Bernal, my friend throughout the whole formation.
Then, in the novitiate—the best stage of my life, where I was very happy—many thanks to Friar Wilmer for being an excellent master.
To my fellow novices, whom I want to mention in a special way. As you heard, the “Have mercy” chant was in Portuguese. Well, that same chant was the one we used at my first profession, there in Spain, in 2021. We did it because my fellow novices—Mateus, Guiomar, Joao, and Rodrigo—are Brazilian. And although some of them have already taken other paths, I remember them today with great affection and I pray for them.
Thank you to my Las Rozas community, where I forged my religious self and a good part of what I want—and what I do not want—for my consecrated life.
Finally, I thank my insertion community, which, due to life’s circumstances, was not the one the provincial assigned me to, but which became part of my story: Ciudad de los Niños.
There I met wonderful people, who became my friends, my brothers, and I discovered that you can love in the simplicity of everyday work. There I faced the dangers of a merely functional or administrative religious life, but, thanks to prayer and the excellent work of the laypeople, I was able to transform it into love that spreads.
The young men there taught me that consecrated life must be fruitful in love, and that our task is to show that there are reasons to love, to live, and to serve.
Thank you to the JAR kids, to the CDN, CEAR, and TOA staff. Thank you.
Thank you to the religious community—the one that prayed with me in the chapel, that was faithful to prayer and to community, the one that served and gave itself out of love.
Thank you to the prior, now delegate, Friar Rogelio, for his care; to Friar Lalo, for his fraternity and listening; to Friar Ednando, my friend and companion in every effort to make CDN a more fraternal place. Thank you to Friar Beto, who is now my pastor, for his pastoral work. Truly, may God bless you.
On this path, many people fall away. I am deeply grateful to everyone, even to those who made my journey harder—people from whom I also learned how not to be a religious. To them as well, thank you.
Thank you to Friar Juan Carlos, vicar of Mexico and Costa Rica, who presides at this Eucharist. Thank you for being here. And to Friar Francisco Sandoval, representing my future community in the United States, thank you for being here.
Thank you to this parish community, which has worked alongside the friars. Thank you to the altar servers; to the choir, who did a magnificent job; to my friend Chalito and to Cuca, for the photos and videos.
To everyone, thank you very much.
May God bless you.
What if God is calling you too?
Friar Randy’s story did not begin on the day of his solemn profession. It began much earlier: in Baptism, in his family, in a Christian community, among friends, in the people who planted the faith, and also in that moment when he had to tell his parents—still “afraid”—that he wanted to begin that adventure.
His answer didn’t come all at once, either.
There was postulancy, novitiate, formation, communities, companions, joys, difficulties, and people who even took other paths. But through it all, Randy discovered something that ended up being more important than his own certainties: before he could respond to God, God had already come out to meet him.
Maybe that’s why, when we talk about vocation, the first question isn’t “will I be able to?”, not even “what do I have to leave behind?”.
Maybe the question is much simpler:
What if God is calling me?
Don’t be afraid to ask yourself the question.