God writes straight with crooked lines

My path to the Diaconate was not a straight one, to say the least. I was born and raised in the Bay Area of California. My parents were devout Jehovah’s Witnesses and raised me to be the same. I attended services several times a week from the time I was born until I left my parents’ house to go to school and work in Texas.

In Texas, I managed a store for a large retail conglomerate in San Antonio, and it was there that I met Delpha Gonzalez, the woman who would later become my wife. At the time, she was the union representative for my employees, so we naturally fought – regularly at first, but that regular communication also deepened my respect for her. We began a relationship outside of work, but it quickly became quite clear that she was not willing to commit to a future with someone who wasn’t Catholic. 

I was conflicted about this. On the one hand, I was a devout Jehovah’s Witness, as I had been taught. I was brought up believing that the Catholic faith was full of lies and falsehoods that trapped and manipulated its followers. On the other hand, I had a deep respect and love for Delpha and her family, and their Catholic faith was lived out in a way that I hadn’t seen in a Jehovah’s Witness community. They didn’t just know their faith; they lived it with sincere love and devotion. I decided to start reading more about Catholicism and was given a copy of the Catechism of the Catholic Church to study.

I decided to become Catholic and asked Delpha to marry me. Entering the RCIA program as a 22-year-old man looking to be married, it seems to me now that I was more looking to check a box than to let the faith permeate my heart. I also had equated faith with knowledge, so I did what came naturally and learned the information. I joined the Catholic Church and shortly after was married at St. Francis De Paula in San Diego, Delpha’s hometown. 

Shortly after the marriage, I started a new job in Corpus Christi which required quite a bit of travel. I still hadn’t figured out that the Catholic faith required a deeper love and sacrifice, so I used my travel as an excuse to miss Sunday Masses. My dear wife, with the patience of a saint, spent many hours in prayer asking God to strengthen my faith.

Her prayers were answered after another move which led us to Dallas. There, at Holy Spirit Church in Duncanville, we became friends with a deacon who encouraged me to get more involved. It started with one small sacrifice, being a lector on Sunday. Then I started singing in the choir. As I gave more, I began to understand the beauty and richness of the Catholic faith, a faith in a God that is worthy of every sacrifice I had to give. I became an extraordinary minister of Holy Communion, then even volunteered to be an altar server along with our two sons, Joseph and William. With every small sacrifice, my love for Christ and his Church grew. 

At this point, a good friend invited me to come with him and another friend on a Cursillo retreat. It was at this retreat that I had my “metanoia.” I felt the prompting of the Holy Spirit to make a full commitment to Jesus Christ and his Church, to give him everything and to encourage others to do the same. I had the opportunity to answer this prompting by answering the call from the Diocese of Dallas for deacon candidates. I applied with a friend from the same Cursillo retreat and soon we began our studies. Unfortunately, my company transferred me to Northbrook, Illinois during my studies, and I could not continue with my friend. But by the grace of God, I was able to continue my studies in the Archdiocese of Chicago with very little trouble. On April 25, 1987, I was ordained a deacon in the Holy Name Cathedral. 

The essence of the role of the deacon is service. During my studies, I felt especially called to serve the forgotten, those in nursing homes and the incarcerated. During my past 31 years of being ordained, I have worked with inmates at five different institutions. In this way I see myself fulfilling the scripture from Matthew 25:44-45, which says, “Then they will answer and say, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or ill or in prison, and not minister to your needs?’ He will answer them, ‘Amen, I say to you, what you did not do for one of these least ones, you did not do for me.’”

Looking back at my journey, I see that even though the road wasn’t a straight one, I am immensely grateful that Jesus led me as he did. I have never regretted giving my life to him fully and letting him change it forever.