The Party Boy Saint: 4 Life-Changing Truths I Learned from St. Francis of Assisi
Introduction: More Than Just a Saint for Garden Statues
When most of us picture St. Francis of Assisi, a familiar image comes to mind: a gentle man in a simple robe, surrounded by birds and animals, a peaceful presence for a garden statue. He is the patron saint of ecologists and animals, a figure of serene, quiet faith. This image is true, but it's also radically incomplete.
This popular picture barely scratches the surface of a complex and passionate man whose life offers surprisingly relevant and counter-intuitive lessons for our busy, modern lives. A recent sermon on his feast day highlighted a few of these transformative ideas that challenge how we think about our own spiritual potential, our role in the world, and even how we find true rest.
This article explores four of those powerful takeaways. They reveal a journey that began not in piety, but in pleasure, and culminated in a world-changing mission—a path that might feel more accessible to us than we think.
Truth # 1: The Path to Sainthood Can Start with Being a "Spoiled Materialist"
Before he was a saint, Francis was a man who, by his own biographer’s account, “loved pleasure more than” anyone. He was the son of a wealthy cloth merchant, and he fully embraced the lifestyle that came with it. He was known for his love of parties, fine clothes, and a life of ease.
A Franciscan priest, reflecting on this period, puts his early life into a modern context that is both startling and deeply relatable:
"If he lived in the 20th century, we would describe young Francis as a self-absorbed, spoiled materialist with plenty of disposable income."
This backstory is profoundly hopeful. It tells us that a spiritual journey doesn’t require a perfect starting point. It shows that God can call anyone, not just those who seem naturally pious or spiritually inclined. Transformation is possible for all of us, no matter where we are right now. Francis’s story is a powerful reminder that our past doesn’t disqualify us from a future of incredible purpose.
Truth #2: The Most Important Minister in the Church is... You.
Many people view their role in a spiritual community as that of a recipient. They come to be fed, to receive guidance, and to be ministered to by clergy. However, the church’s own catechism presents a radically different and empowering structure. When it asks, "Who are the ministers of the church?" the very first answer is "lay persons."
That's you.
According to this framework, regular people are the primary ministers, tasked with a mission "to represent Christ and his church," "to bear witness to him wherever they may be," and to "carry on Christ's work of reconciliation in the world." This reframes our role from passive spectator to active participant. But it also comes with a challenge. As the sermon noted, in any organization there’s often an "80/20 rule"—where 20% of the people do 80% of the work.
This insight transforms a nice idea into a provocative self-assessment. Are we actively shouldering our responsibility as ministers in our daily lives—at work, in our families, and in our communities? Or are we passively hoping someone else will do it? The mission is for everyone.
Truth # 3: The Counter-Intuitive Secret to Finding Rest is to Take on a Mission
In a culture that preaches burnout and glorifies "self-care" as a retreat from responsibility, the words of Jesus offer a startling paradox. He says, "Come to me... Take my yoke... Learn from me." The promised result of taking on this "yoke"—this way of life, this mission—is not exhaustion, but "rest."
How can adding one more thing to our overflowing schedules possibly lead to rest? It seems to defy all modern logic. We are conditioned to believe that rest is found by doing less, by shedding obligations, and by carving out empty space on our calendars.
The sermon suggests that the rest Jesus promises is of a different quality altogether. It’s the profound peace that comes from aligning our lives with something eternal and transformative. By participating in a mission that has ultimate meaning, we find a sense of purpose that settles our souls in a way that idleness never can. This is the rest that comes not from escaping our life, but from finding our place within God’s will.
Truth # 4: The Turning Point is Always an Embrace
For Francis, the journey from a materialistic partier to a world-changing saint was not a single event but a series of transformative moments. One of the most significant was his encounter with a leper. In his time, lepers were the ultimate outcasts—feared, reviled, and physically isolated from society. The leper likely "smelt bad," and Francis's natural impulse would have been revulsion and retreat.
Instead, a "watershed moment" occurred. Feeling an inner call, he moved toward the leper. This was an act "full of risk, moving into the unknown, launching into the deep." He didn't just offer a coin from a distance; he did the unthinkable and embraced him. In that single, visceral act, his entire perception of the world shifted.
"...as he embraced the leper, he sensed that he was embracing Christ himself."
This moment reveals a profound spiritual truth: true transformation often requires us to move toward and embrace the very things we fear, reject, or find uncomfortable. It is in confronting our own revulsion and choosing compassion over comfort that we often have our most powerful encounters with God and discover our deepest purpose.
Conclusion: Your Transformation Starts with 10 Minutes a Day
The monumental changes in the life of St. Francis—rebuilding the church, founding an order, inspiring millions—can feel intimidating. Yet, his entire transformation was sparked by a simple, foundational first step: he decided to prioritize prayer. He carved out time to simply be with God.
The sermon suggests this is where our own journey begins. Prayer is how we learn to stand before God, to worship and praise God, to learn to love God, and, crucially, how we learn to hear the voice of God. It is the consistent act of showing up.
This isn’t just a nice theory; it’s a practical challenge. The sermon concluded by offering a tangible tool: a "one sheet morning prayer" that takes "maybe 10 minutes" but "can change your life." This is the starting point. The grand, saintly journey begins not with a leap, but with a small, repeatable step. If a man once described as a "spoiled materialist" could change the world by starting with this simple habit, what could a commitment to just 10 quiet minutes each morning unlock for you?
