That’s the heart behind rebuke in the Church: not punishment, but restoration. We correct error not to shame, but to protect, heal, and strengthen the flock. That’s why Paul’s earlier list of elder traits is so crucial—because only someone who is holy, self-controlled, and anchored in truth can correct others without becoming proud or harsh.

Jesus not only taught truth—He was the truth. He never compromised, never spun the message to gain followers. He held fast to the Father’s will, even when it cost Him everything.

To hold firm to the Word, then, is to hold fast to Him—to let His voice shape our beliefs, His story shape our lives, and His teaching anchor our ministry.

I was on a long drive for work, listening to The Great Divorce by C.S. Lewis. It had been on my reading list for a while, and long hours on the road felt like the right time to finally catch up. Somewhere in the middle of the book, I was hit by a line that stopped me cold

Jesus practiced discipline. He woke early to pray. He fasted. He obeyed the Father even when it meant suffering. He lived with perfect intentionality—never rushing, never drifting, never distracted from His mission.

Jesus is called “the Holy One of God” not just because He was morally perfect—but because He was fully aligned with the will of the Father. Every action, every word, every step was soaked in love, obedience, and purpose.

Jesus lived uprightly. He challenged injustice. He confronted hypocrisy. He treated the poor, the rich, the religious, and the forgotten with truth and fairness—never with favoritism.

And more than that, He became our righteousness. His life was the fulfillment of all justice—and His death satisfied what none of us could. That means uprightness, for us, doesn’t start with behavior. It starts with union with Christ, and flows out from there.

A lack of self-control in leadership often shows up not in public failures, but in private compromises—the slow drift of unguarded habits, the secret indulgence, the quiet anger, the unchecked ambition.

Becoming Catholic isn’t just about joining a religion. It’s a journey—a homecoming. And like any good journey, there are signposts along the way. Here’s what you can expect.

Do you find yourself more drawn to critique than celebration? More focused on what's wrong than what’s right?

That’s not necessarily wrong—but over time, it can dull your spirit. We were created to delight in good things. And our leadership will feel stale if our hearts are only trained to spot danger and never beauty.

To love goodness is to be alive to what God is doing, not just aware of what the enemy is trying to destroy.

Hospitality isn’t easy. It costs time, energy, emotional capacity, sometimes even resources. It risks awkwardness. It gets messy. But that’s the point.

The Church isn’t meant to be polished—it’s meant to be open.
And our leadership should reflect that openness. Not just to those we already like or understand, but to those we don’t yet know how to love.