Still Saying ‘Yes’: Deacon Henry Sandoval’s Journey of Faith at 90
- Guest Contributor
- 4 minutes ago
- 4 min read
Through his nearly 50 years of ministry, the deacon at Guardian Angels Parish in North Denver gives witness to the power of one “yes” at a time.
By Jay Sorgi
Deacon Henry Sandoval used to say no to God decades ago, but for nearly 50 years, he’s learned that he doesn’t know how to utter that word to his Savior.
“You can't say no. I can't do it,” he said.
Now 90 years old, the North Denver resident still says yes every time, serving as a deacon at Guardian Angels Parish in Denver.
“When he asks you, you do it because he's going to give you the Word. He's going to give you the strength. He's going to give you the ability to do it,” he continued.
Doing “it,” a nearly 50-year vocation in Catholic evangelization and ministry, seemed the farthest thing from now-Deacon Sandoval’s mind when the breakthrough moment happened for him.
It seemed enough to work a third-shift job managing King Soopers’ bakery to provide for his beloved Frances, whom he married in 1958, and their three children. Getting him to simply go to Mass was a struggle, but she kept planting and watering the seeds of faith.
“She'd always be after me, saying, ‘When are you going to go to church? When are you going to go to church? What are you going to do?’ And I said, ‘I don't have time right now,’” he admitted.
On a wintry day in 1976, that all changed.
“I just got out of work. I was sleepy. I was tired. I got home at about 7 a.m. She just talked to me and said, ‘We're going to church,’” he recalled. “I'm not a churchgoer. I wasn't a churchgoer, but she said, ‘Come on, you're going to church.’ So, I went. I went with her. We sat down at Sacred Heart.”
In those historic pews, Frances suddenly watched her husband transform into a “yes” man for God, something she witnessed for 30 more years before her passing in 2006.
“This young lady got up, and she said, ‘I need someone to help me with the religious education program. Do we have any volunteers? And somehow my hand went straight up,” Deacon Sandoval remembered. “My wife poked me right in the ribs. She said, ‘You know nothing about religion, nothing.’ I agreed. Something helped me raise my hand, and then that's when I started teaching religion.”
Deacon Sandoval taught himself religion first, saying he got his books out and began studying the Catholic faith.
“But the most important thing is that I put it in the hands of God. I needed help,” he said.
That help came from people like Father Robert Hagan, SJ, who served at Sacred Heart and became a second channel for God to nudge him into mission.
“He asked me, ‘How would you like to go and start a ministry at Gilliam Youth Services Center?’ And I said, ‘I know nothing about kids and detention centers.’ He said, ‘We’ll start a ministry there,’” said Deacon Sandoval.
Once again, he became a “yes” man, leading to a long-term call to prison ministry, which he shared with Frances.
“We got volunteers to join us, and then we started. We did that for almost 13 years,” he explained.
As his prison ministry vocation grew, so did his pathway into the diaconate — even past a little hesitation.
“He asked me, ‘Would you like to become a deacon?’ I said, ‘Oh no,’” Deacon Sandoval admitted. “He said one thing: ‘Listen to me. Listen to me. God has called you. Answer him.’ So, I said, ‘Well, okay. I'll do it.”
His diaconal vocation, which began with his ordination on May 9, 1981, has now spanned 44 years, a shift to elder care ministry at The Gardens at St. Elizabeth, teaching religious education at Guardian Angels, and so much more.
In everything he has ever done in ministry, one of Deacon Sandoval’s most important truths stems from his deep belief that you offer a love that’s truly fraternal to those you serve.
“You make them feel like family. Wherever you minister, you're going to make them feel that they're part of your family,” he said.
If it’s true that people remember how you made them feel, such a philosophy bears fruit that leads to the kind of God-filled encounters Deacon Sandoval has had over the years.
“I know one day we were at Sloan's Lake, my wife and I, and we were just relaxing, drinking a pop. This one youth came up to the car. And I said, ‘Oh, no, we're in trouble,’” Deacon Sandoval said. “But he said, ‘I recognize you and your wife. I want to thank you for what you said and did for us at Gilman. I'm now going to college. I turned my life around.’ That's the reward.”
He advises fellow deacons and lay leaders in mission to balance faith-filled work with service closer to home — especially to those you love at home.
“Sometimes when you rush into a ministry, it takes all your time. One day, my daughter said, ‘Do we need an appointment to see you?’ That woke me up, opened my eyes, and I said, ‘You're right,’” he admits with conviction. “Don't forget your family. You get so busy that you don't have time for them. Find time. Find time.”
Just like he found time for the Lord after a long night at a bakery, he still finds time for his will to be done.
“Follow Him,” says Deacon Sandoval. “He said, ‘This is what I want you to do. Just do it.’”
At 90, and with a heart that loves like a family member, Deacon Henry still heartily and enthusiastically says yes.
