By Sr Jana Pavla Halčinová, DC
In southern Spain, Málaga is known for its sunshine, bustling harbor, and vibrant tourist life. Yet beyond its postcard beauty lies another reality—the lives of young people marked by loneliness, insecurity, and rejection. It is here, on these human peripheries, that Sr Lucía López, a Daughter of Charity of Saint Vincent de Paul, has made her home and her mission.
Where life is not learned from books—it is encountered
Known affectionately as “Sorlu”, Sr Lucía teaches religion and physical education at a local school. Her classroom reflects today’s multicultural Spain. Among her students are Spanish children alongside Roma, Moroccan, South American, Ukrainian, and Chinese students. “They carry much heavier backpacks than their schoolbags,” she says.
Many come from broken families. Others have been defined by labels long before anyone took the time to know them. Some learned far too early what it means to be rejected. They provoke others because, deep inside, they fear that someone will eventually abandon them too. “And yet every morning I continue to believe that God enters the classroom before I do.”
Anyone looking for Sr Lucía in a traditional religious habit would probably miss her. “My habit is often a tracksuit, sports shoes, or a hoodie—not because I want to hide my identity, but because I want to enter deeply into the reality of the people I accompany. There are peripheries where we must first learn how to remain present before speaking about God.”
The ministry of staying
Sr Lucía believes that her first mission is simply to remain close. To stay beside the teenager who constantly rebels because he needs to know that someone will not give up on him. To encourage the child convinced that she will never achieve anything because no one has ever taught her to believe in herself. To accompany the young person who insists he does not believe in God, yet breaks down when he experiences unexpected tenderness. To remain with the girl who harms herself because she cannot find words for the pain she carries within.
Her daily life unfolds among footballs, classroom conflicts, laughter, embraces, difficult conversations, disciplinary challenges, and questions that have no easy answers. “And it is precisely there,” she says, “that I discover Jesus is still alive.” For Sr Lucía, God is not found in perfection or flawless appearances, but in what she calls “the mud of human existence.”
Evangelization begins, she believes, when a young person learns to trust an adult again. It begins when a student discovers that her life is worth more than she has been led to believe. Sometimes it starts with hearing four simple but life-changing words: “You matter. You are loved.”
An ordinary woman, an extraordinary presence
I do not consider myself a heroine,” Sr Lucía says. “I am simply an ordinary woman.” For her, being a Daughter of Charity today does not mean accomplishing extraordinary things. “It means remaining in love, even when reality is uncomfortable. It means continuing to believe in people when they no longer believe in themselves.”
Saint Vincent de Paul often reminded his followers that “love is inventive to infinity.” Today, that creativity takes new forms: a WhatsApp message sent at just the right moment, a conversation after class, a quiet presence on social media, or simply listening when no one else is willing to listen. “Young people today do not need only teachers,” she says. “They need witnesses.”
They need adults whose lives reflect what they speak about—people who make hope, justice, and mercy visible through the way they look at others, accompany them, and love them.
The Gospel becomes life
Sr Lucía admits that there are days when she returns home completely exhausted. “There are days when it seems that nothing is changing.” Yet her conviction remains unchanged. “The Gospel has enormous power when it stops being theory and becomes lived experience.”
Perhaps this is one of the great callings of the Church today—not to conquer spaces, but to dwell within human wounds; not to seek prominence, but presence; not to appear strong, but to become deeply human.
The world does not need perfect Christians. It needs women and men who can look another person in the eyes and say, through the witness of their lives: “You are not alone. I am with you.” – Vatican News
