There is, at present, a certain astonishment rippling through the secular world at the announcement that Scott-Vincent Borba will be ordained a Catholic priest for the Diocese of Fresno on Saturday, May 24th. Here is a man who possessed precisely what modern man is taught to desire above all things: wealth, influence, admiration, and the peculiar sort of immortality granted by worldly success. As co-founder of E.L.F., a cosmetic empire valued in the billions, he had climbed the glittering staircase that so many spend their lives ascending. Yet, having reached its summit, he quietly descended it again for the sake of Christ.

To the modern imagination, this appears madness. The world can understand a man sacrificing comfort in order to gain riches; it cannot understand a man surrendering riches because he has discovered something infinitely greater. And yet, this is the very heart of Christianity. The soul of man was never made to feed forever upon applause, luxury, or power. These things may amuse us for an evening, as toys amuse a child, but they cannot satisfy the ancient hunger hidden within us.

When Borba says, “I’ve never been happier,” the world hears a contradiction. But the Christian hears an echo of a deeper truth: that joy is never found by clutching at oneself, but by surrendering oneself. Christ warned that whoever seeks to save his life will lose it, and whoever loses it for His sake will find it. It is one of those divine paradoxes upon which the whole Christian faith rests.

Perhaps, then, the shocking thing is not that a man gave away billions for Christ. Perhaps the truly shocking thing is that we still believe billions could ever compare to Him. There are moments in life when a man discovers, often unwillingly, that information alone cannot remake him. One may memorize creeds, recite prayers, and speak eloquently of heaven while the heart remains cold as a winter field. Yet Christianity was never meant to be merely the arrangement of correct thoughts in the mind, but the invasion of divine life into the soul. The Holy Spirit does not simply instruct a man; He transforms him.

The Holy Spirit moves much like the wind: invisible, untamed, impossible to imprison. We see Him not directly, but in the changed lives He leaves behind. Hard hearts soften. Cynics begin to hope. The selfish learn charity. What no lecture could accomplish in twenty years, God may perform in a single surrendered moment.