How to impress God? Heroism without Highlight Reels
Real heroism doesn’t always wear a cape—sometimes, it wears spit-up-stained t-shirts, and just keeps trucking.
What does it mean to be heroic in a world obsessed with highlight reels? Gabe Chabot is the email guy at Heroic Men. He’s going through the daily grind of seeking purpose, while still being an average guy.
For Gabe Chabot, heroism wasn’t flashy. It wasn’t winning every day or being a superhero. It was showing up—even after failing. Heroism was built in quiet repetition, forged in everyday sacrifice.
That was the theme that ran through Gabe’s story as a man, a father, and a former Protestant on a path to Catholicism.
“Heroism is the ability to show up daily—even when it’s hard, even after failure. It’s not about perfection. It’s perseverance.”
One story captured this perfectly: George Bailey in ‘It’s a Wonderful Life.’ George’s life involved setting aside personal dreams for others—his brother, father, and community. Even when George felt hopeless, the story revealed his unseen impact. Gabe identified deeply with this narrative, recognizing that often, his quiet sacrifices held more weight than he realized.
Gabe’s own journey mirrored that sacrifice. One of the boldest decisions he ever made was moving to Australia with his wife to attend Hillsong College. His goal was to become a Protestant pastor. They used their wedding money to fund the move, only to find themselves questioning their faith tradition within months.
Faced with theological doubts and a pull toward Catholicism, Gabe decided they needed to return home. With no degree, job, or plan, it was one of the most frightening moments of his life. But it was necessary.
He left behind a vision of his future to pursue what he believed was the truth. When they returned to the U.S., his family welcomed them back geographically, but spiritually, things were tense.
As a Protestant-raised man, converting to Catholicism created emotional distance with his family. Gabe sought to handle it carefully, never accusing or pushing his beliefs. That respect helped repair relationships.
With little life experience to draw on, he matured while leading a family. It’s like a tree shaped by coastal winds— forced to grow strong and in unexpected directions.
He also experienced deep spiritual silence, especially during job loss. During these dark seasons, Gabe drew inspiration from Mother Teresa, who endured decades of spiritual dryness. Her perseverance became his model.
He realized that faithfulness often meant continuing without answers, trusting that presence mattered more than clarity.
Gabe’s dreams of being a hero teenage boys can look to. He remembered his own teenage years as a blur of insecurity, trying to earn love and worth through performance. He felt unnoticed unless he excelled. That mindset spilled into his relationship with God. Gabe said, “I lived like God was a coach I was trying to impress.”
He wanted young men to know their value wasn’t tied to success. One quote that transformed him was: “The devil knows your name but calls you by your sin. God knows your sin but calls you by your name.” Had he heard that as a teen, he believed his life would have changed dramatically.
For most of his life, Gabe felt a lot of guilt and pressure to be perfect. That changed when he experienced confession for the first time as a Catholic. Instead of shame, he felt release. “It was the first time I knew I was forgiven.”
Gabe also found deep connection to saints like St. Joseph, whose silent strength and quiet obedience felt like a mirror to his own fatherhood. St. Joseph didn’t speak grand words or perform miracles—he simply showed up and carried immense responsibility. That was real heroism.
“Heroism isn’t a label. It’s a habit.” Through faith, fatherhood, and daily perseverance, Gabe works to live the kind of quiet heroism that changes lives.