This is the full text of the reflection given by Valentina Marquez, M.Div., at the service of commissioning at Outreach 2026 on Sunday, June 21 in Gaston Hall at Georgetown University. The text has been edited for style.
There’s a scene that is familiar to most of us. Somewhere along the way of a long and grueling race, a runner stumbles, feeling like they can’t go on anymore. And just as they’re about to give up, another runner—who could have easily kept going—stops, helps them up and together, they keep going.
This image of a race comes up often when I think about the life of faith of LGBTQ Catholics and their allies. There are moments when we wonder if we have the strength to keep going. Moments when the road feels lonely, the conversations become exhausting, the wound of rejection cuts deep and the church we love does not feel welcoming. I know there have been several times when I’ve stumbled, convinced that I cannot take another step. But then a weekend like this comes along and shows us what is possible.
It is hard to offer a reflection that captures everything we have shared this weekend. We have listened to each other, prayed together, wrestled with difficult questions and vulnerably shared our stories. But the more I prayed about it, the more I found myself returning to a simple theme. Beneath every conversation, every panel, and every moment of encounter, there has been a thread running through it all: hope. What this weekend has surfaced is not a naïve hope that ignores the challenges before us, but the kind of hope that gives you strength, that comes from discovering that God is actively at work among us, calling us forward and has gifted us with companions for the journey.
That is the invitation before us this weekend: to run the race with perseverance. Not because we are strong enough on our own, but because we know where to place our hope.
As an LGBTQ Catholic or ally, trying to remain faithful amid personal and ecclesial challenges can feel like a constant uphill climb, a battle in which we are always playing defense as our identities—and the identities of those we love— are under attack, or at least under scrutiny and even rejected. It is difficult a reality, and yet, it is precisely in the midst of it all that we hear these words from Hebrews:
“Since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith.”
That is the invitation before us this weekend: to run the race with perseverance. Not because we are strong enough on our own— plot twist: we are not — but because we know where to place our hope. We fix our eyes on Jesus, who has already gone before us and shows us the way. And we remember that even now, on this side of heaven, we are surrounded by a community who helps us keep moving forward.
If there is one thing I have come to treasure over these past two years that I’ve attended the conference, it’s the hope that you all bring. I have spent many moments since Thursday making mental notes of how each of you brings me hope. There’s the joyful and never-ending energy from the volunteers. The Young Adult Committee assembling 500 welcome packets Thursday afternoon in a hot room. The sound of the Salve Regina filling the chapel, the collective voice of people clinging to their mother when it has often felt abandoned by everyone else. The “LGBTQ Women in the Church” panel breaking out into dance and song. The celebration of our identities at various LGBTQ bars. When I see courage, I see faithfulness. I see people who continue to love the church, even when that love is not always returned as fully as it should be.
To answer Kerry Robinson’s/the question posed to us yesterday, who gives you hope: You all give me hope. You are all my great cloud of witnesses. I see Christ at work so clearly. And if Christ is at work in you, in us, then friends we have every reason to hope and persevere. When I see you, I am reminded of why I continue in the race.
My prayer is that, no matter where you are on this journey, you know that you are not running alone.
It is important to note that Hebrews doesn’t just tell us to keep running—it tells us how to run. “Let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles.” We cannot run well if we are weighed down—by fear, by doubt, by the lies that tell us we are not enough.That includes refusing to carry the burden of hatred. We may encounter judgment and hostility, but we do not have to make a home for those things in our own hearts. We cannot control what others carry, but we can choose not to carry it ourselves. Christ calls us to travel lighter than that, with hearts free enough to love, forgive and keep moving forward.
As we close out this weekend, my prayer is that, no matter where you are on this journey, you know that you are not running alone.
The panels, the conversations in hallways, the meals shared around tables and the friendships formed all point to a simple but powerful truth: we are not alone.
The friendships made and the community that I hope each of you has found is one of God’s greatest gifts.This is a community that speaks hope, encourages one another, prays for and with one another. Here you are seen and loved. Here you belong.
As we return home and our ordinary life, let us not grow weary and lose heart. Instead, let us embrace the call to become a source of hope for each other. When someone stumbles, may this community be the one who reaches out a hand. When someone grows discouraged, may we be the one who reminds them they are loved. When someone feels alone, may we be the one who walks beside them.
That is what this weekend has been about: journeying together.
One day, by the grace of God, we will reach the finish line and hear the words, “Well done, good and faithful servant.” We will join the great clouds of witness in heaven, the saints. That is the joy that awaits us on the other side. Until then, let us keep hoping. Let us keep journeying side by side. And let us make sure that no one among us has to run this race alone.
All holy men and women who we’ve gone before us and finished the race, especially those in the LGBTQ community and their allies, pray for us!
