Becoming Catholic Part 3

A Journey Through Faith

Welcome Home

After giving birth to our second daughter and having a near death experience, I felt even closer to Jesus and my mind and my heart seemed to have craved more truth. As I was waking up from anesthesia from my life-saving surgery I was waking up into more spiritual clarity. I saw the Episcopal culture for what it was: politically driven.

My search for deeper meaning and truth began. I still didn’t have any clue about Catholicism but consciously told myself no matter what I was not to become Catholic. I knew, however, that I wanted to go to a church that received Communion in the way I had been receiving it: with the Eucharistic Ceremony. The idea of attending a church that passed grape juice through the pews seemed cringe. I was somehow separating what I was craving and Catholicism; I did not understand or know that Catholicism was, in fact, what I was craving.

In my search for Jesus in the Eucharist, my husband who had attended private Lutheran school for elementary told me that Lutherans do celebrate the Eucharist. We attended a few weeks but I felt even further from Jesus there. I can’t explain it other than to say it felt empty.

I felt lost. I didn’t know what to do or where to go from there. At this point thought my only options were political church culture, empty ceremonies, and cringe-y grape juice.

I was praying hard. My prayer was deep and simple: where do you want me to go, Lord?

I had an emotionally powerful dream calling me to the Catholic Church. I woke up laughing hysterically. I was still in deep denial about Catholicism. I only knew what the world told me about it: that all priests are molesters, that they are stringent and old fashioned with the rules, they are judgmental, that sins are confessed to a man, and that it was led by a man (the Pope). It’s a religion built on man, not God, and thus false.

But, here’s the thing: the dream didn’t feel that silly after meditating on it a while. I thought about the fact that I had never been inside of a Catholic Church or even knew what they practiced. So perhaps a bit of research wouldn’t hurt. I found that what I was craving, Jesus in the Eucharist, is originally a Catholic practice. I found that the Catholic Church was the first Christian Church established by Christ Himself in 33 AD and the only Christian church for the first 1500 years or so of Christianity until the Reformation. I found that the authority of the Catholic Church was given to Peter, the first Pope, and has been passed down to the present Pope. Imagine my surprise! I was completely ignorant of these facts. I thought that Catholicism had to have such deep truth to have survived so long. I had thought that with so much hatred, condemnation, judgement, and evil that the Catholic Church suffers, the enemy works overtime to demolish its influence and that cannot come from nothing but that Catholicism is true. Why else would so much evil attack it? I began to deconstruct all of my preconceived notions of Catholicism. But I was still afraid to make that leap.

The final nail in the coffin in making the leap to Catholicism was when my daughter and I drove by our local Catholic Church and she asked me if we can attend that church. I felt that was my final sign. The following Sunday we step foot inside a Catholic Church for the first time in my entire life. The power of the Holy Spirit was so profound that I balled my eyes out. This was what I was craving! I repented immediately of my stubbornness. I was denying myself this beautiful mystery for so long. I allowed humans to disparage me from it, rumors to deter me, negativity, judgment, hatred and condemnation to poison my mind. I decided then and there I would never allow the words of others influence the decisions I make for my life. The enemy could not keep me from this any longer.

I came to discover that receiving the Eucharist in the Catholic Church required a full conversion: baptism and confirmation. I had never been baptized as a child because my mother had that protestant notion that I should choose it myself. Though it was quite a journey up until this point, it certainly wasn’t a difficult decision to make because I was finally home. I learned of the Rites of Christian Initiation (RCIA) and contacted the director after my second Sunday at the Catholic Church. Through the Grace of God I got in right at the last minute to receive Sacraments this Easter.

I have learned so much that has blown my mind and opened my heart to a deeper relationship with God. I am blessed with amazing and patient teachers who guide us all and answer our questions with joy. I have become so dedicated to the Holy Rosary and find such comfort in the arms of Our Blessed Mother. I am eagerly awaiting my Sacraments and I am filled with such gratitude for the Lord’s Great Mercy. God is merciful and has certainly heard my prayers through all these years. He has redeemed me in miraculous ways. I have been saved so many times in my past from mortal danger and I know that has been God’s Hands in my life. Despite all of my sins, He has forgiven me in the best way possible: by opening the doors to His Church and Her Sacraments which lead to eternal life. I am humbled and grateful to say that I will be coming home to the Catholic Church.

Of course now with the lock-downs, my Sacraments are delayed but I just pray, hope, and not worry as my Confirmation Saint, Padre Pio, recommends.

Becoming Catholic Part 2

A Journey Through Faith

From Atheism to Paganism to Christianity

As I grew into young adulthood, I became more of the world and identified greatly with my sins. I was anti-religious, anti-church, anti-God. When I met my husband, I rejected any concept of marriage believing that married couples are less happy and so we lived for many years together without marriage. We loved each other greatly, however, and decided to have a child together. It wasn’t until after we were parents that we decided to get married, and even then I made sure the traditional vows were eliminated. No mention of God or religion at all was to be present at my wedding, I made sure of that.

I continued to not only reject religion for myself, but I made an active campaign against it. As I see many atheists do now, I did then; speak against religion any possible chance I could. I mocked the Bible believing it was fictitious-having never actually read it myself, of course. Who needs to read it to know it’s a fairy-tale, right? I was on a very dangerous path and subconsciously knew I was but didn’t care. I was trying to live my new life as wife and mother as best I could with the trauma of my past and blamed God for it all, rather than seek Him within it. This bitterness became my identity.

Eventually I began to feel my spiritual self again. Living with belief in nothing but bitterness was quite exhausting and I couldn’t deny my soul any longer. However, I was still determined to separate my spiritual self from religion. My famous saying was, “I’m spiritual, not religious.” That led me down some even more dangerous paths. I got heavy into astrology, nature, and worshiping earth as a god. I met a woman who introduced me to wicca and I began to believe in crystal magic, moon magic, and worse: polytheism, or many gods. This belief system guises itself as new-age philosophy but there’s nothing new about it. It’s paganism disguised; essentially neo-paganism. Throughout this phase of my life I was restless, erratic, and selfish to the point that I lost my job. I fell into the darkest most debilitating depression of my life.

At this point my husband helped me greatly by introducing me to Dr. Jordan Peterson. I began listening to his Biblical series in which he discusses the psychological significance of the Biblical stories. This Biblical lecture series is what changed my life forever. I became curious about the Bible for the first time since childhood and began reading it.

Reading the Bible for the first time as an adult is what opened my heart to God and accept Him again in my life. I began praying again and asking for forgiveness from the Father. He helped me to realize what my life had been without Him and that His Merciful Love is better than life (Psalm 63:3). God even provided me with a miracle: we conceived our second child after I had been longing for another baby for quite some time.

I began doing more research into Christianity. I knew what I was taught as a child but I needed to know for myself. My world exploded with all the beautiful practices and beliefs of the Christian world. I was particularly drawn to the Lenten practice. Lent wasn’t a practice my Pentecostal grandmother emphasized and it certainly wasn’t something I learned as a child in non-denominational church. But it was so incredibly beautiful to me and the season was approaching soon so I made the choice to observe it. I was pregnant, of course, so I couldn’t do a dietary fast but I decided to fast from social media.

I spent the Lent of 2019 deep in prayer and meditation with God’s Word and as it drew to a close I felt closer to Him than I ever did. I felt called to go to church but it had been so long and I had never been on my own as an adult. I was scared to make that next step.

Easter morning came and as I was mindlessly scrolling through my emails I came across one that read, “fear is the tool of the enemy.” I was convicted and I knew I had to go. I had less than an hour to throw on a dress and go. My daughter who was six at the time decided at the last minute that she wanted to go with me so I am embarrassed to say that the first time she went to church her hair was matted and she was wearing sweatpants. But her presence with God began on that day and that I do not regret.

I knew which church I wanted to go to: this beautiful stone church up the street from us. It was an Episcopal church and I was in awe of the ceremonies that took place during the service. I still had no idea what Catholicism was and that what awed me about the ceremonies were originally the Catholic Mass. The Eucharistic Prayer in particular was so mysterious and beautiful. I had never seen or experienced anything like it. I remember in my grandmother’s church they’d occasionally pass some grape juice through the pews as we sat, but that was nothing like the Eucharistic Prayer and kneeling at the altar to receive. During my first visit I didn’t even know what was going on when it started I just sort of followed the motions. As the prayers concluded and the pastor invited the people to kneel for Communion, he had said that baptism wasn’t required so my daughter and I began to receive.

Something mysterious began to happen within my soul while at the Episcopal church. I began to understand Communion and what it means for us. When grape juice was passed around at my grandmother’s church I didn’t understand it. When I was moved by the movie The Passion I didn’t know why. Perhaps that’s why it was so easy to give up my desire for religion shortly after that because I didn’t understand and no one explained Christ’s great sacrifice and the offering of His Body and Blood for us. But after my own exploration and after experiencing the Eucharist in the proper ceremony my mind, soul, and heart began to comprehend. Not only comprehend, but to to crave it; I craved to receive Christ.

to be continued…

Becoming Catholic Part 1

A Journey Through Faith

Faith Through My Childhood

I am becoming Catholic. It’s quite shocking considering my life as it has been. But strangely, it’s also quite understandable considering my life. Just as life can often be, my conversion exists in a paradox.

My initial exposure to Christianity was when I was very young. My mother raised my brother and I in a non-denominational church for about six or seven years. There was a lot of instability in our early childhood but our rock was each other and Jesus. I loved Sunday school, carried my children’s bible everywhere, and even had a favorite verse (John 3:16, of course!). I didn’t have a stable father figure so the concept of having an all-loving Father in Heaven was very appealing to me. I prayed to Him frequently and the only way I knew how which was to speak from the heart. I do recall that His presence was great in my young life and my faith was unshakable. A child’s faith knows no bounds.

At about the age of nine my single mother was planning her wedding to a man we had known earlier in our lives. Once he and his daughters moved in, religious life diminished into non-existence. My mother stopped praying with us at night and we stopped attending church. When I have asked her now about this she claims she was rejected by the church for her marriage to this man; why we couldn’t find another is beyond me. Whatever the reason, religion was replaced with vice in our home and the concept of Christianity was mocked by my new step-father. I would peg this transition in my early life as the moment I lost my faith. Being only nine years old I was still very impressionable and beholden to my parents. With them rejecting Jesus and living in sin, I followed suite.

The only example I had of Christianity at this point in my life was my grandmother, who was mocked and met with eye-rolls by my step-father whenever she attempted to introduce Jesus back into our household. I began to imitate this disdain and I completely disowned my relationship with God. I became bitter, resentful, disobedient, and straight up uncontrollable. I often reflect back on that poor girl I once was and realize I was crying for help. But between negligence, abuse, judgment, and abandonment I lost my spirit and my spiritual life; no one was there to help me.

At about age fourteen my biological father had expressed his desire to develop a deeper relationship with me asked if I’d like to move in with him. I considered my situation at that time thought I had nothing to lose, so I did. I received stability for the first time in my childhood. My father is by no means perfect but he did a damn good job at trying to straighten me up and provide me with safety. He and my step-mother took me to church most Sundays, as well. At that point I was so spiritually lost I just zoned out during service and none of it really resonated with me. We didn’t pray at home as a family either so it didn’t do much to invigorate my spiritual life. But the structure and discipline I received at least changed my destructive patterns and caused me to care for my life again.

Two years later, at age sixteen, I moved back in with my mother. I’m still attempting to reconcile this seemingly obtuse decision of mine. I may have missed my brother, I may have had too much conflict with my step-sister at my dad’s house whom I shared a room with, I may have been a reckless teenager; it may be all of the above. But in any case, that was the choice that was made.

At this point my mother still didn’t have much a religious life despite what was said, but her close friend did somewhat. This friend dragged me along to see Passion of the Christ in the theatre, which I grudgingly obliged because hey! free movie snacks, right? WOAH! I was so moved by that movie. I was crying and shaking and I truly felt Jesus trying to call me back to Him. Yes, a movie can be that powerful and it is. If you know, you know.

I desired to go to church again so I called up my grandmother and asked her to take me. I went a few times and do remember feeling the presence of Jesus. However, I was battling a lot with my spirituality at this point and was torn between freedom through Jesus and death through my sins. At sixteen years old with the temptation of the world too great for my weak will and with no coping skills to deal with such a great battle, I chose the world. I pursued an even more reckless lifestyle and became bitter, resentful, and vehemently anti-religious.

To be continued…