How Welcome keeps changing me

We all carry tools. The question is, are we using ours, or God’s?

On Father’s Day, I stood in front of my parish with only a couple minutes to speak.

That is not much time. I had a short talk in my hand, and I knew exactly what I wanted to say. I wanted to invite the men of the parish to consider Welcome.

But standing there, looking out at the men in the pews, I knew two minutes could only hold so much.

Somewhere in my past, during a speech class, I was told that if you want to make an impact, ask the audience to participate. So, right there at the beginning, I asked everyone who had attended a Welcome Weekend to stand up.

Men and women stood throughout the church.

Because of that, for a moment, the talk and the invitation were no longer only coming from me. These were real people who had said yes. Real people who had taken a step and who had allowed God to do something in them.

Then I said the part I most wanted them to hear.

Welcome has made me a better father, a better husband, and a better parishioner.

Not perfect. Not even close.

But better.

That line could have carried more than two minutes by itself, but I could not fully unpack it from the pulpit. So, I figured I could explain it more here.

When I say Welcome has made me better, I do not mean it gave me some quick spiritual upgrade. I do not mean I walked into a retreat one way and walked out finished. That is not how grace usually works.

What Welcome gave me was space.

Space to be honest. Space to listen. Space to hear other men speak from places they probably do not talk about every day. Space to realize I was not the only one carrying things I did not know how to name.

That matters more than I can explain in a short talk at Mass.

A lot of men carry quietly. We carry work stress. We carry family worries. We carry old regrets, private fears, and the pressure to keep it together. We carry things from childhood, marriage, fatherhood, failure, sin, and disappointment. Most of the time, we just keep moving.

We tell ourselves we are fine. We tell ourselves other people have it worse. We tell ourselves we should be stronger by now.

But strength is not the same thing as silence.

Welcome helped me see that being honest before God is not weakness. It is the beginning of healing. It helped me see that I cannot keep giving from a place that I refuse to let God touch. I cannot give my family peace if I will not receive peace from Him. I cannot give mercy if I keep hiding from mercy. I cannot lead well if I am not willing to be led.

That is where the weekend changed me.

It helped me stop pretending that faith was only about showing up. Showing up matters, of course. Going to Mass matters. Praying matters. Serving matters. But the Lord does not only want me present in the pew. He wants my heart. He wants the parts I bring proudly and the parts I would rather keep hidden.

That is not always comfortable.

Sometimes I think of it like carrying around a toolbox with all sorts of random tools. For years, I thought I had what I needed. I had my pride. My work ethic. My sense of responsibility. My ability to push through. My habit of figuring things out on my own.

Some of those tools were useful. Some were not.

Then God started showing me that I was trying to fix things with tools that could not heal me. Pride cannot heal shame. Control cannot create peace. Silence cannot build real brotherhood. Self reliance cannot replace surrender.

Welcome did not take the toolbox from my hands all at once. But it helped me set it down long enough to let God show me what I was missing.

Mercy.

Prayer.

Brotherhood.

Truth.

The kind of truth that does not crush you, but frees you.

Saint Paul writes, “Do not conform yourselves to this age but be transformed by the renewal of your mind.” (Romans 12:2)

That verse feels right to me because transformation is not the same as pretending. God does not transform us by helping us look holy from the outside while everything inside stays untouched. He renews the mind. He reaches the heart. He teaches us to see ourselves, our families, our sins, our wounds, and our purpose through His eyes.

That has been one of the greatest gifts of Welcome for me.

It helped me see that I am not alone in the struggle to become the man God is calling me to be. Other men are fighting that same fight. Other men are trying to be better husbands, fathers, sons, brothers, friends, and disciples. Other men are tired too. Other men are praying with questions. Other men are carrying things they do not always say out loud.

And when men begin to share honestly, something changes.

You realize the Church is not just a place where perfect people gather. It is a place where broken people come to be made whole by Christ. It is a place where men can stop performing long enough to let grace in. It is a place where the Holy Spirit can take a small yes and turn it into the beginning of something new.

That is what happened to me.

Not all at once.

Not in a way I could fully explain in two minutes.

But real enough that my wife can see it. My son can see it. My parish can see it. I can see it too, even if I still have a long way to go.

I am more willing to pray. More willing to serve. More willing to apologize. More willing to listen. More willing to let God into the places I used to guard.

That does not mean I always get it right. I still fall short. I still get impatient. I still let pride speak before love. I still need Confession. I still need the Eucharist. I still need the Holy Spirit every day.

But that is the point.

Welcome did not teach me that I was strong enough on my own.

It reminded me that I was never meant to be on my own.

Maybe that is what I wish I could have said more clearly while up there at the pulpit. Not just that Welcome made me better, but that God used Welcome to begin making me more honest, more open, and more aware of how much I still need Him.

And maybe someone reading this needs to hear that too.

You do not have to have everything figured out. You do not have to walk in with perfect faith. You do not have to be the strongest man in the room. You do not have to know what God is going to do before you say yes.

You only have to be willing.

So, take a quiet moment this week and ask the Holy Spirit one honest question.

What part of me are You trying to renew?

Then listen.

Because sometimes the part of us we are most afraid to bring into the light is the very place where God wants to begin.