I looked over the colonnade of St. Peter’s Square and couldn’t believe my eyes. Eighty thousand people below erupted into applause as Pope Leo declared Pier Giorgio Frassati and Carlo Acutis to be saints and decreed that “they are to be venerated as such by the whole church.” I got goosebumps listening to the roar of people while the choir sang “Amen.”

For me, this was one of the peak moments in my faith life. As a Catholic young adult, the stories of these two saints, who both died before the age of 25, have always spoken to me. However, the similarities between St. Carlo and I go further than our shared youthfulness. St. Carlo Acutis and I both have been diagnosed with cancer.

St. Carlo Acutis was diagnosed with leukemia at the age of 15 and lived for only a few days after he was diagnosed. I, too, was diagnosed with what is considered a “blood-related” cancer, Hodgkin’s lymphoma, at the age of 12. It is precisely because of our shared cancer journey that I fondly recall first hearing about this young Italian Catholic, whose cause for canonization was opened on Oct. 17, 2012, shortly after I learned my own cancer was in remission.

As my life continued post-treatment, especially in preparing for confirmation, for college and life after college, the popularity of St. Carlo and his story of “simple holiness,” his love of God and computers, continued to grow among my friends and in the Life Teen program I was a part of.

I was (and still am) fascinated with St. Carlo Acutis and his story. However, as I grew older and my faith began to mature, the seemingly linear story of Carlo as your average teenager who simply loved God did not seem to align with my faith life as an adult. While I continued to navigate life after cancer, my personal identity, relationships (successful and otherwise) and even my grief over friends who have died from cancer meant that my relationship with God was no longer as simple as it once seemed in the days of middle and high school.

Currently, I serve as the associate for advancement and communications for Outreach, an L.G.B.T.Q. Catholic ministry that is part of America Media. We host a national conference and publish articles on our website, and we frequently find ourselves in a complex space in Catholicism, walking with a community that consistently finds itself on the margins of the Catholic Church but nevertheless is beloved by God.

During the first week of September, I joined members of the Outreach community on a pilgrimage to Rome for the Jubilee Year of Hope. There, with 1,200 other L.G.B.T.Q. Catholics and allies from around the world, we passed through the Holy Door of St. Peter’s Basilica on Sept. 6, the day before the canonization Mass of Sts. Pier Giorgio Frassati and Carlo Acutis. Remembering the stories I heard when I was younger, I decided to make a day trip to Assisi and visit St. Carlo’s tomb before his canonization.

After arriving in Assisi and visiting the tombs of St. Francis and St. Clare, I visited the Santuario della Spogliazione, a small, unassuming parish nestled in the hilly streets of Assisi. There, I waited in line until I was able to pray before Carlo’s tomb.

Upon seeing his body, I became rather uncomfortable. While everyone around me was praying fervently, as they might before any other shrine in any other church in Rome, I couldn’t help but see before me something different. I saw more than simply the body of a holy person. In the tomb lay a young boy who, now dressed in a pair of fresh Nikes and blue jeans, died from an illness with which I am deeply familiar. In Carlo’s young body, I saw the names and faces of people who I knew, of all ages, who also died from cancer. I couldn’t help but get a little emotional as I sat there remembering them.

There I realized that Carlo’s life and journey to canonization were not as simple as I once was taught. He is not just simply a teenager who said yes to God while also playing video games or enjoying time with friends. Like many of those who have passed away from cancer, he suffered. He experienced extreme pain. He was isolated. Yet this 15-year-old still chose to remain close to God, who he believed was somehow at work in the midst of his suffering, even when it would have been reasonable to doubt God’s will. St. Carlo represents for me the complexity of a life of faith. I think it is because of his complexity, not despite it, that the church has proclaimed he is in fact in heaven—our own hope as Christians after our earthly pilgrimage.

Later that week, after journeying with our L.G.B.T.Q. Catholic pilgrims and their allies through the Holy Door of St. Peter’s Basilica, I managed to find myself on the colonnade of St. Peter’s Square for the Mass of canonization. As the Mass continued, I took time to reflect on how my life has changed since I first heard about Carlo Acutis. Like many of the pilgrims with whom I had spent the week, my faith life and my relationship with God change regularly and most likely will continue to evolve (as does any good relationship). Now, in both the suffering and normalcy of Carlos’s life, a boy who chose to say yes to God each day, I find the complexity of my life mirrored in his.

St. Carlo’s canonization Mass reminded me that the hope of resurrection in Christ is palpable and tangible. This celebration of his life on earth is a call for each of us to orient ourselves toward that great feast in heaven. It is there that I know I will see once again God, St. Carlo and even those friends who have reached heaven before me. St. Carlo Acutis, pray for us.

John Consolie is the assistant director of Outreach.