He was filled with hatred for the Church. From the balcony of his house, he would spit on those on the way to mass Sunday.
Asked by frieds in class to go to mass, he went, but to laugh at them, thinking they were crazy.
But "my eyes were being opened and I saw that God was not a legend or story for the weak, but that he existed and that he was supporting and guiding me. I experienced that he loved me so much that he wanted me for himself and was calling me,” he recalled.
"One Saturday afternoon when he was 17, Fr. Juan José told his father he wanted to go to the seminary. His father beat him and said that ‘he would be a priest over his dead body.’”