A Panic Attack at Mass That Changed Everything
How Fear, Loss, and Grace Forced One Man to Stop Running from God
Tom Hornacek didn’t set out to become a Catholic evangelist, a radio host, or a man on mission. For most of his adult life, he would’ve described himself as a pretty good Catholic. He went to Mass—most of the time. He worked hard. He provided. He stayed married. From the outside, life looked solid.
Inside, though, Tom was lukewarm. Comfortable. Spiritually anesthetized.
And then—without warning—his body betrayed him in the pews of an 8:00 a.m. Mass.
What followed was not a tidy conversion story. It was a collision with fear, spiritual warfare, suffering, loss, and grace so undeniable it cracked his life wide open. Tom’s story is not about perfection. It’s about what happens when a man finally stops resisting God and says, “Okay, Lord. I’m listening.”
1. Lukewarm Faith and the Lie of Control
Tom grew up working. From the age of five, he labored in his family’s grocery store. Discipline, responsibility, and self-reliance were baked into him early. Faith, however, stayed mostly on the surface.
When he married Karen, a Catholic, Tom entered the Church—but never fully entered the faith. He later described it plainly:
“I didn’t get catechized. I just got sacramentalized.”
Mass was optional. Prayer was transactional. Confession felt unnecessary. Pornography was minimized. God existed—but at arm’s length.
Looking back, Tom named it for what it was: spiritual complacency.
“I thought I was a really great Catholic. In reality, I was Revelation chapter 3—lukewarm.”
Like many men, Tom believed control was strength. If something went wrong, he’d muscle through it. Fix it. Ignore it. Handle it.
Until the morning he couldn’t.
2. The Panic Attack—and the Voice
After a night of heavy drinking, Tom walked into Mass for a memorial offered for his late father-in-law. As he knelt, his heart began racing. Heat surged through his body. His vision blurred. Panic took over.
Then came the voice.
“Tom, why do you feel like this? You don’t need to feel like this. Just get up and walk out the door.”
It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t dramatic. It was persistent. Rational. Persuasive.
Tom didn’t recognize it for what it was. He thought it was his conscience. Or stress. Or weakness. Pride kept him frozen in the pew.
The next week, stone-cold sober, it happened again. And again. Week after week.
Finally, standing as a Confirmation sponsor in a suit and tie, Tom reached the end of himself.
“Lord Jesus Christ, if you free me from this affliction, I will serve you forever.”
What followed changed everything.
“I was hit with a blast of arctic cold from the top of my head to my toes. And it was gone.”
In that moment, Tom understood: the voice was not his own. And Jesus had authority over it.
He had been rescued.
3. A Faith That Finally Took Root
Deliverance didn’t make Tom perfect. It made him available.
He volunteered. He lector-ed. He joined RCIA—despite knowing almost nothing about the faith. He started listening to Catholic radio, almost accidentally, and couldn’t stop.
“Every time I turned it on, it was like God was speaking directly to my heart.”
Sin didn’t vanish overnight. But something fundamental had shifted. Tom wasn’t managing God anymore. He was responding to Him.
Then came the storm.
One summer evening, after Tom insisted family members attend a barbecue, his wife Karen collapsed in cardiac arrest. EMTs—who wouldn’t have been there otherwise—saved her life.
Weeks later, she collapsed again.
This time, it was a massive brain aneurysm.
Machines kept her alive. Her soul did not stay.
“I had a pain in my heart I had never experienced in my life.”
Years later, Tom would understand it as the piercing of his heart—a grace that carried him through the impossible task of leading his family through grief.
“Don’t wait until you wake up and there’s nobody there and it’s just you and Jesus.”
4. Light in the Darkness
After Karen’s death, Tom and his daughters read a simple book from Gift of Life called The Next Place. On one page, a sentence caught his eye:
“Though I will know the joy of solitude, I will never be alone.”
Then the room filled with light.
Not metaphorical light. Not emotional light. Physical light.
“Each heart on the page started emitting this white, pure light. It lit the entire room.”
His daughters saw it too.
They turned off every lamp in the house. The book still illuminated the rooms.
“I cannot describe to you that pinprick of heavenly light.”
God did not explain Himself. He did not remove the pain. But He made His presence undeniable.
Twice.
And then He waited.
5. From Survival to Mission
Tom didn’t rush forward. He waited. He prayed. And slowly, God rebuilt his life—through service, through community, and eventually through remarriage to a woman who had also suffered deeply.
Together, they dove into men’s conferences, Catholic radio, missions, and ministry. Tom found himself leading pledge drives, serving internationally, working with men one at a time.
Looking back, the pattern became clear.
“You can’t imagine what God has planned for your life. It’s nothing like you thought.”
The panic attack that nearly drove him out of Mass became the doorway into a life of purpose.
The Invitation
Tom’s story isn’t about extraordinary men. It’s about ordinary men who finally stop running.
“Everybody’s on a different development plan.”
The first step isn’t mastery. It’s prayer.
Not complicated prayer. Honest prayer.
Because when a man prays, he finally stops listening to the world—and starts listening to God.
And that changes everything.