Will Bush do the Blair thing?

So, with the Papal visit and accompanying media circus in full swing, the Big Rumor is that President Bush has been wading his way across the Tiber for the last several years and just may convert once his term is up. I'm a bit skeptical, but I would have been a bit skeptical of my own conversion if I'd heard it as a rumor beforehand, too.

On the one hand, I pray for President Bush that he will embrace the fullness of truth in the Catholic Church. I'm all for restoring the body of believers, one convert at a time. That said, I find myself feeling the same frustration I had with Tony Blair -- if he's converted in his heart, what's with the delay in acting on it?

I know, all things in God's good time, but the man knew he wanted to be a Catholic and put it off until politically convenient. And if that's not what he did, he at least had to know it would look that way. So he's either spineless or .... well, I don't know what. In charity, I will assume he had his reasons to wait. But in general, I'm a firm believer that when you realize the truth about the Church, you don't sit on your hands and do nothing until the timing is perfect. Was it the Ethiopian eunuch who said "Baptize me NOW!"? I want to see that kind of reckless abandon from world leaders who make this decision. Be a fool for Christ. Set the example. The world is watching.

He Is Risen! (thoughts on the Vigil and other things)

A very happy Easter to everyone, and a joyful "WELCOME HOME!" to the thousands who entered the fullness of the Christian faith last night at the Easter V.I.G.I.L. Mass!*

(*As anyone who has brought small children to this Mass can attest, V.I.G.I.L. stands for Very Incredibly Gigantically Interminably Long.)

As RCIA coordinator at my parish, last night I had the profound honor of seeing ten people I've taught, talked with and prayed these past six months find their home in the Holy Catholic Church. I met their families, heard more about their individual stories, learned the names they had chosen for their Confirmation, and watched with joy as one by one they proclaimed their faith and received our Lord in the Eucharist for the very first time.

My eyes welled up with tears as I watched our two catechumens receive the Sacrament of Baptism. Two lifetimes of sin, washed away in a moment. Two brand new starts, this time with sacramental grace to guide them. Maybe it's the former protestant in me, but I get much more emotional watching adults choose baptism than I do watching infants be baptized. The baptism of an infant is a pure, happy, and beautiful moment, to be sure, but the shock factor of an adult raised in our anti-Christian, shallow, hedonistic culture choosing to follow Christ, and all that entails, is a powerful reminder that the Holy Spirit is still actively at work in the world. What other explanation could there be for such a thing?

I may have teared up a bit at the baptisms, but I lost all pretense of keeping it together when the catechumens and candidates received Holy Communion. I was overwhelmed with the memory of the experience I had when I took my first Communion two years ago and crumbled into a full-on lip trembling, teary, mascara-smeared mess. I hope the experience of receiving Jesus -- body, blood, soul and divinity -- for the very first time was every bit as thrilling for my friends as it was for me, and then some.

I'd be lying if I said I didn't have my favorites in the class, just by virtue of their backstories and varying participation levels. Despite the fact I've known them all the same amount of time, some have been more active in class, so I feel I know them better. One of my favorites, whom I feel okay about outing here because he already outed himself, is John C. Wright, science fiction author, lawyer and ex-atheist Christian apologist extraordinaire. He joined late in the year, and the level of discourse in the class escalated rapidly after that -- rather unsurprisingly for anyone who has read his blog, he had a lot of thought-provoking questions and commentary. I am honored and grateful to have been used by God in even the smallest way to assist this man on his journey into the fullness of faith. I'm excited to see the ways big and small in which God will use his servant John. If you're reading this, John: Congratulations and welcome home.

All in all, it was an incredible night. My biggest regret is that I didn't make the most of Lent this year -- I know the experience could have been even richer if I had sacrificed more and focused harder on having a spiritually productive Lent. As it was, I didn't really buckle down and do more than the minimum required by the Church until Holy Week. I have another post's worth to say about that, but for now, it's off to spend time with my family and enjoy this, the greatest feast of the Christian year.

He is risen, indeed!

Being "Seeker Sensitive" is the job of the laity, not the Church.

Red Neck Woman's reponse to the protestant Pastor who got huffy about church shopping has started quite the discussion over at Postscripts (I think that's a new record for the number of links I've crammed into a single sentence).

A poster named ty23 has been most vocal in his insistence that "all that doctrine stuff" doesn't matter, it's people that matter, and especially whether those people have accepted Jesus Christ as their Personal Lord and Savior (TM). (I'm sorry, that was snarky. I'm pretty sure "Personal Lord and Savior" is not, as of yet, a trademarked phrase. Then again, with the business-model approach of many churches these days, it wouldn't surprise me in the least ...)

I could have gone in a lot of different directions in my response to him (sorry if you're a female, Ty, I'm making an assumption here in the interest of readability). He brings up the impressive numbers (just under 2,000) attending Elevation Church (WARNING: turn speakers down before clicking if you're at work, have sleeping kids nearby, or just don't like loud music) as being proof positive that God is at work there. I could point out that the average neighborhood parish in my diocese has 15,000 members (does that mean God is 7.5 times more active in these parishes?). He talks about the need for something called "impactful" ministry, which I assume means ministry that changes lives, though I have to say for the record that I am not a fan of cutesy invented marketing buzzwords. I could ask what could have more impact than receiving our Lord and Savior -- body blood, soul and divinity -- in the Eucharist?

But ultimately, I was struck by the one repeated plaintive cry in Ty's posts, that were echoed by another poster called Purplegirl. A cry that said "We don't get it. We don't really WANT to get it. You use too many big words and require too much of your members and the whole thing is just really strange to us. And if we, your fellow Christians, don't get it, then how much more do the unchurched not get it?" Their argument is that because Catholicism is "too deep" (their words, not mine), that it's not relevant to regular everyday people who would rather read the sports page on Sunday than drag themselves to church. So seeker sensitive churches are reaching out to those people in a way that isn't too scary or challenging.

Ty has a valid point about bad catechesis and lack of outreach. The Church is so busy ministering to Her millions of members already that maybe not enough resources are spent reaching out to the truly lost and really explaining the faith to them.

But here's the thing: that's OUR job -- those whom we Catholics call the "laity" and Ty probably knows better as "regular people." The job of a Priest is to minister to the faithful. The job of the faithful (that's us!) is to reach out to the world.

See, the journey doesn't end at the Church door. I think a lot of "seeker churches" operate with the idea that once you get the seekers in the door and they "make a decision for Christ," that the rest is up to them. If they want theology, they can take a class. If they want fellowship and accountability, they can join a small group. But where does this leave the needy? Those who struggle with embarrassing habitual sin. Those with desperate material needs. Shut-ins. The gravely ill. Those who don't "fit in" with the rest of the church in one way or another. These people are not the exception -- THEY ARE ALL OF US! And if you think you're not one of them, you have some serious pride that needs to be rooted out. A pastor should be so busy ministering to the needs of those who have already decided to follow Jesus that he doesn't really have time to think up inventive, cutting-edge ways to "reach the lost." We are all "the lost" at one time or another in our Christian walk. And we need earthly shepherds to lead us back to God. That is what priests, confession, the Mass, etc. are all about. And when these things are working properly, then those of us who are just "regular Christians" are spiritually prepared to go out and win souls to Jesus.

Francis of Assisi said "At all times, preach the Gospel. When necessary, use words." This is our job. This is how we win the lost -- we live our lives in radical obedience to the Gospel of Christ. It's a model that has worked to sustain and grow Christianity for 2000 years. It doesn't require a fancy multimedia presentation or a talented rock band. It doesn't even require us to bring a friend to Church. If we're getting what we need from Church, and it's equipping us to live holy lives, we'll convert people without having to say a word, let alone drag them out of bed on a Sunday.

Not to say church isn't important -- it clearly is. But church isn't what converts the lost ... people (in union with the Holy Spirit) do that. The Church feeds the faithful so we'll have the spiritual energy and strength necessary to carry out the Great Commission: "Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you."

Pray for me.

I'm teaching RCIA tomorrow night -- as in adults with preconceptions, not 4th graders who more or less blindly accept every word I say. I am prepared in many ways by my background in politics (particularly concerning the subject matter, which is the fifth commandment, i.e. pro-life issues), but still ... to be asked to give this lecture is intimidating and awesome at the same time. I am looking forward to it, but I am quite scared of messing up -- please pray that the Holy Spirit will work through me to bring people in the class to a closer and better understanding and appreciation of the Lord's teaching on Life issues.

It is so strange to be in this position. From "I could never be Catholic" to trying to convince others in less than two short years ... it is amazing what God can do if you allow Him to move you in uncomfortable ways.

Please also pray for my family, in particular my father. I try not to talk about them much on the blog in case they ever discover it, but I have to ask for prayers on this -- my dad told me he's been thinking a lot about Catholicism since I converted. He's even been watching Fr. Corapi on EWTN (those of you who know my father will laugh knowingly at this). He has a few obstacles in his way, but they are the same ones I had when I wrote this post, and I entered the Church less than six months later. So pray. Pray God's will be done, and that my father be open to God's will, even if it means losing face in the aftermath of some pretty strong statements. Been there, done that. It's hard. But SO worth it. If (and when!) my father receives the REAL Eucharist for the first time .... well, I can't even think about it without tearing up and getting anxious for him. So please pray.

My husband says if my dad and my dad's good friend/ex-pastor convert to Catholicism (against all odds and in addition to myself), he's putting HIS dad in for sainthood. I agree. John H., pray for us!

Oh, this is perfect!

I love this. Just go see for yourself.

(Hat tip: Anne.)

It's Lent.

Lenten Resolutions:

1. Give up alcoholic drinks until Easter.
2. Pray at least one decade of the Rosary daily.
3. Clean out my closet and dresser and give away everything I'm not using to the House of Mercy free clothing shop.

With regard to drinking, it's something I enjoy that I could give up without forcing my family to do it with me (like if I gave up red meat or something -- since I'm the one who does all the cooking, and would not cook separate meals, that wouldn't work without a lot of extra planning). I love a glass of wine with dinner, a relaxing cocktail after a particulary tough day, or an after dinner drink with neighborhood friends after the kids have gone to bed. It will be a sacrifice to give these things up for a season, but I gladly do it for the love of my Savior and as a mortification of my spoiled flesh. The fact that I am blessed with such abundance and leisure as to be able to partake of the things I mentioned above (along with the good food and idle chatter that inevitably go with them) on a fairly regular basis is a good reason to quit them for a time and get some needed perspective.

As far as the Rosary, I say "at least one" decade because I have to start somewhere. I don't pray the Rosary at all currently (at least not on any kind of regular basis), so one decade is all I can commit to without feeling like I'm dooming myself to certain failure. That said, a friend of mine who lives four doors down from me wants to pray the Rosary daily with me during Lent, so it is entirely possible that more than one decade will get done more often than not. Accountability is nice, but unfortunately, it can also cut both ways, and I can see us cutting each other way too much slack since we're both busy moms. So I wanted to make my own solid commitment to at least one decade, with or without my friend.

And concerning the clothing donation .... this is going to be something else. I think I'll feel better when it is over. I have a walk in closet and several storage tubs jam packed with designer clothes, shoes and handbags from my life before kids when I was quite a bit thinner and definitely richer and more career-and-status-oriented. I have held onto these things for years now hoping to have reason to wear them again, either through dramatic weight loss or career progress or both. I have got to let it go. The weight loss may or may not happen, but really, I'd like to get pregnant, so hopefully not. And if my writing and speaking career picks up again, then I can buy a few new things if I need to. There is no reason to have the majoriity of my closet space filled with things I am not using and may NEVER use again. But boy, is it going to hurt to see those things go .... knowing exactly how much money they represent (that could have been put in savings or given to the Church or the poor) is the worst part. Oh, well, I trust that it will all be put to good use by the Missionaries of Our Lady of Divine Mercy.

I Need My Fix

I have a confession to make: I'm addicted to the Sacrament of Reconciliation. That's right -- Confession. I love it; or rather, I love the pure feeling of knowing my sins are truly and permanently forgiven. It's been about two weeks since I last entered the booth, and I can feel the difference.

There's nothing like the moments, hours and days immediately following a good confession. The actual confession is horrid -- like taking a shot of some particularly nasty elixir. My parish priest, bless his heart, tries to make the process as easy as possible, but frankly, listing your sins before God and your priest should make you feel uncomfortable. If you think the hot flush of embarrassment hitting your cheeks as you stutter through the whole sordid list and the gripping sense of shame in your heart is bad, imagine Jesus actually suffering on the cross for those same sins, then get down on your knees and thank Him for how easy you have it in comparison. Admitting what we did and saying we're sorry for it, no matter how humiliating, is a cakewalk compared to what happened at Calvary.

Anyway, confession itself is rightly awful. But something wonderful happens in the moments after the priest declares your absolution -- you actually feel absolved. It's like being presented with a new start in life. Father is fond of assigning Bible reading and prayer for penance, so I usually go straight from the Confessional to a pew, sit before the Blessed Sacrament, and do my penance there before I have a chance to forget. It is usually during this time that the clean feeling washes over me, and the really great thing is that it stays. How long? Well, it diminishes with each sin I commit. After a couple of weeks, I feel more or less like my old self again, which is NOT a good thing. But the amazing thing is that the graces poured out in the Confessional make me more aware of sin and temptation in the first place.

The first time I went to Confession, I was amazed by the feeling of grace and peace I had the next day, and how much easier it was to avoid sin and choose good. And then I got stuck in traffic.

Now, I am a traffic screamer, in the worst way. I holler and shout and drop the f-bomb and all manner of other obcenities that I'm sure will come back to haunt me in the form of a young boy who will probably call someone important a bleepity-bleep someday at exactly the wrong moment, like the Bishop at First Communion, or Grandma at Thanksgiving dinner. Anyway, this is my standard M.O., so I was surprised as I pulled onto the freeway at 1 in the afternoon only to find it a six-lane parking lot that all I said, over and over was "Noooooooo. Noooooo! This wasn't supposed to happen! I'm already running late!" That was so incredibly tame for me that I thought someone else was speaking for a minute. And then I remembered: Confession. Ten minutes later, when someone blocked me from my exit, I finally cursed under my breath. And literally as it was coming out of my mouth, I was trying desperately to suck it back in -- which means I NOTICED! I noticed my sin, instead of numbly, callously driving the nails further into Jesus's hands without even a second thought. My traffic-induced diarrhea of the mouth was not only under much better control than it had been the day before, but it HURT. And that's a good thing.

I share this story to show that Confession is about more than just forgiveness. There really is supernatural grace available in the sacraments that help us to live out the promises we make in the Act of Contrition -- specifically to "sin no more and avoid the near occasion of sin." It doesn't elminate our ability to screw up -- after all, humankind has been perfecting the daily rejection of God's grace for thousands of years. But there is a marked difference in our ability to resist evil when we are fresh from the Confessional as opposed to two weeks, two months, or twenty years later.

So it's been two weeks, and I need to go back. I need God's grace; I want to feel clean. I shower my temporal body every day -- the least I can do is let God bathe my eternal soul a couple of times a month.

The Vigil

The Vigil. Everyone wants to know about the Vigil.

The reason I haven't posted is that words simply can't describe the experience. People ask me about it all the time, in real life and on the blog, and I -- a woman of so many words -- just kind of stutter and fumble with an answer. But I'll try to do it justice here, in fact, I've asked God and St. Francis de Sales (my Confirmation Saint!) to help me find words.

It was a gorgeous spring night. Warm, breezy and just humid enough to be comfortable. We began outside with a candlelight procession into the Church. My husband (who sponsored me) and I found the other Candidates and Catechumens and stuck close to them for moral support. They had reserved a block of seats for us up front, and even though I knew most people didn't know for sure who was coming into the church, I felt as if everyone's eyes were on us.

We entered the church, which was darkened, and stood in the glow of the candlelight as Father and the altar boys put the Easter Candle in place. At the first "Alleluia," the house lights came up all at once, and it was stunning. Father told us later that they had gone and replaced a bunch of burned-out lightbulbs in the ceiling earlier in the day, and as a result, it was brighter in the church than most of us had ever seen it before. Good call on Father's part -- it was amazing.

Anyway, the service itself was long but very beautiful. There were seven readings, seven call-and-response chants from the Psalms, and seven prayers. Then the blessing of the Holy Water and the Litany of Saints, and then they got to us: the Candidates and Catechumens (by the way, Catechumens are those adults who are being baptized for the first time, Candidates are baptized Christians who are coming into the fullness of the Catholic faith through Confirmation).

For a little while, I got to sit back and relax as the Catechumens were baptized. I was surprised at the groundswell of emotion that washed over me as I watched these adults washed clean of their past sins and given new lives in Christ. I'm not a crier, but as one woman from our RCIA class went up there with her young daughter and both received baptism, I burst into happy tears.

There was one woman in particular in our class with whom I'd struggled the entire time -- she seemed adamantly opposed to all of the Church's moral teachings and I'd wondered if she'd actually go through with it. I'd been in prayer for her since the first night she opened her mouth about her support for abortion, euthanasia, and contraception, and I prayed that God would lead her into the Church, but not without changing her heart to one of joyful submission to God's law. (I think the last thing we need is more people trying to change the Church "from the inside.") So I was glad to see this woman there at Easter Vigil, and again prayed for her. God has filled me with an affection for this woman that I can't fully explain, as she has spoken out in ways that anger me more times than I can count. But God has made it clear over and over again that I am to love this woman and pray for her whenever I see her or think of her. So I do.

Continuing with the service, they had us Candidates rise and state individually our belief in the Catholic faith. With that simple action, we were received into the Church. The entire class, Catechumens and Candidates alike, went forward with our Sponsors to be Confirmed. I was confirmed with the name "Francis de Sales." Francis is the patron saint of Catholic writers, and I'm definitely one of those, now. But I can also relate to his life story on many levels.

Like Francis, I have parents with big dreams for me (his wanted him to be a lawyer, soldier and politician -- he became a priest instead). I had quite the rising career myself before God showed me that my primary vocation, at least for now, is motherhood. My parents, while they love my son, were woefully disappointed when I announced my pregnancy shortly after our wedding and honeymoon. They thought I was throwing my life away. Francis faced the same reaction when he announced his calling to the priesthood. So I can relate to Francis, or he to me, or something like that. At any rate, since he's been through it all and come out on the other side not only successful, but sainted, I desire Francis de Sales's lifelong help and intercession.

Another interesting, pertinent tidbit about Francis is that he converted tens of thousands of Calvinists in reformation-era Europe back to Catholicism. I was never a Calvinist, but as a convert, I hope to be able to follow in Francis's footsteps and help God to show my Evangelical brethren the truth about His Church. And last but not least, Francis was renowned for his incredible PATIENCE. Anyone who knows me or reads this blog knows that patience is a virtue I utterly lack. So I'm hoping, through his intercession, that some of Francis de Sales's abundant patience will rub off on me.

I need to pause again here for a moment to mention that the thing I was most nervous about before the Vigil was First Holy Communion. I'd been praying to God for weeks that He would give me a tangible sign of His presence in the Eucharist, a feeling, a vision, a word, anything! I wanted Him to leave me completely free of doubt that the Eucharist IS Jesus Christ, body, blood, soul and divinity. Well, as I was confirmed (before Holy Communion), and Father P. put the Chrism Oil on my forehead, I was overcome with an incredible feeling -- I was filled to overflowing with the Holy Spirit. If I were of the charismatic persuasion, I probably would have fallen on the ground and started speaking in tongues or something. It was like being drunk, only with perfect clarity of thought. I felt like I was miles off the ground, and suddenly understood why the book of Acts says the Apostles were accused of being drunk at 9 A.M. when the Holy Spirit entered them at Pentecost. And as I returned to my seat to pray before Communion, I realized I didn't need a sign anymore. This was it, the real deal, and whether I felt anything or not at Communion, I knew I was truly Home.

But God is good and his lovingkindness never ceases, so as unexpectedly wonderful as Confirmation had been for me, the Eucharist really put me "over the top," so to speak. The actual act of receiving the Eucharist was thankfully uneventful (I'd messed up the order of things at rehearsal, so I was worried about doing that again), but when I got back to my kneeler, I got a real treat -- infused prayer.

Father had told us at rehearsal that the very best time to pray is after receiving the Eucharist, because Jesus is physically with you. So I had a laundry list of Important Things I wanted to pray about in those special, holy moments of communion with my Savior. I didn't get but two items into it before (and here is where my vocabulary gives out and I find I really can't describe it) Jesus just took over. I couldn't think of anything on my own, the only word in my mind was JESUS, like a mantra, and I was nearly knocked over by an incredible feeling of warmth and intimacy that I can only describe as better and closer than any sex anyone in the world has ever had. Not that it was arousing, mind you! But the feeling of just being one, united, and totally consumed with the presence of the Divine Person was absolutely incredible in a way that really can only be compared in Earthly terms to the marital embrace. For a few blessed moments, I didn't need air, I didn't need water, I didn't need food -- Jesus would sustain me forever, I was sure of it. And then the feeling gradually lifted, and all that was left was a happy afterglow, just an echo of the intense peace and joy I'd experienced in those first few moments after receiving Jesus.

And then the Vigil was over. I was Catholic. I had my husband's two sisters, his mother and two of our nieces wrapped around me, crying joyful tears. I cried a few tears myself. We took some photos with Father P., and headed home to relieve our babysitter of her duties and celebrate with a late-night snack and a glass of wine.

And since then? Well, I have a lot to say about the incredible graces poured out in the sacrament of Reconciliation. I have quite a bit to say about vocations. I have some thoughts on St. Francis de Sales's classic book that I've been reading, "Introduction to the Devout Life." But it will all have to wait for next time, because my son just woke up and it's time to go be Mommy.

Blessings to everyone who joined me on the journey across the Tiber this year! I hope you all found as much joy as I have -- and there's so much more to come.

What happened? (Or, how I turned my back on a lifetime of protestant teaching and learned to love the Catholic Church)

It has come to my attention that I have not adequately explained my reasons for ending my "protest" against the Catholic Church and entering into the fullness of Her authority and teaching. This I will attempt to do here. It may take one post, it may take more than one, I may have to write a book about it. I'm not sure how thorough I need to be to make myself understood. But I'm going to give it a shot.

For five years, I had been happily attending a large independent Bible Church in our area. This church was (and is) one of the fastest-growing in the area, and possibly in the nation. In the five years I attended, our membership grew from 7,000 to 10,000, and was increasing all the time. All this at a church that started with just ten families in the 1980s.

The pastor of this church is an excellent speaker. He is engaging, well-educated, funny, self-deprecating, and culturally savvy. The church buys airtime on the Howard Stern Show and other non-traditional, worldly venues and produces a short spot in which the pastor addresses some life problem that almost anyone (regardless of religion or lack thereof) can relate to, using examples from Scripture to offer solutions. Thousands of unchurched people visit this congregation each year thanks to their willingness to reach out through worldly means. In fact, the church’s motto is “Impacting Secular (insert our metro area here) for Jesus Christ.”

This megachurch is big for a reason -- one reason. It’s really all about the pastor. If, God forbid, he died tomorrow, I don’t believe for a second the church would ever be the same again. In many ways, it is a cult of personality. And this is a feature common to many protestant churches. In my 24 years as a protestant, I saw countless pastors come and go, and entire churches live or die by their popularity.

Pastors and the churches they lead can be popular for a number of reasons. Some water down the gospel to make it palatable to people whose very lifestyle is one of sin (pro-aborts, gay activists, etc.). Some take a hard line on everything and attract people who need structure and rules. Some are more like social clubs than houses of worship. And some are the real deal -- places where people can go and be challenged and supported, and grow closer to God.

The church I mentioned above was the real deal in many ways. Our pastor was never afraid to take an unpopular position for the sake of Truth. Week after week, he offered practical, realistic ways to apply the gospel to our everyday lives in an inspirational way. And he was committed to the church in a way that many pastors aren’t –- he promised (or “threatened,” as he likes to say) to stay with that church until he died or we threw him out, whichever came first. All in all, his church was a good place to be, and I happily grew in my faith there for five years.

So why did I start looking for something different?

Well, there were issues at the megachurch. I won’t share them in detail because in the end, they’re not relevant to my conversion story. Some were financial, some were legalistic, and a few were doctrinal. But the main thing that pushed me out the door was, ironically, the very same thing that had ushered me in five years earlier -- the life application teaching.

Don’t get me wrong -– life application teaching is wonderful. Necessary, even. How do we know how to live the Christian life unless we are taught? But is its proper place the main worship service on Sunday morning? We once did an excellent series on The Davinci Code -- twelve weeks’ worth of debunking its myths and lies. It was timely and interesting, but I couldn’t help feeling its proper place was a seminar or a Sunday School class, not a Sanctuary of the Lord. Same with the series on finances, and the series on workplace evangelism . . . these things were tremendously helpful, but I didn’t come away feeling like I’d just worshiped the Lord of Lords.

I found myself missing the liturgy of my youth, missing weekly communion (the Bible church did a Communion service about four times a year) and longing for spiritual application teaching. My outward life was fine. I was doing all the right things, making all the right moves. But I knew my heart was a mess, and that was something that a lifetime of life application teaching would never address. I thought about returning to the Lutheran church, but they’d strayed so far from their theological roots as to be unrecognizable. The Episcopal church was similarly apostate, but at least they seemed (at the time) to be working with the more orthodox factions of the church as opposed to running utterly roughshod over them like the ELCA. I found a nearby Anglican parish with a good pastor and tried it out alone early one Sunday morning. It was small but friendly, and I sensed that I wouldn’t be able to fade into the woodwork and be lazy there like it had been so easy to do at the megachurch.

Meanwhile, I was doing a lot of online reading. I’ve always been interested in theology, and there is plenty of theological deliberation to be found on the internet. One forum in particular was simultaneously vexing and intriguing to me because of the large number of Catholics that posted there. Their arrogance astounded me, and yet the depth and substance of their arguments were hard to ignore. At one point, someone posted an article in which the author compared the Catholic Church to Jesus and described protestants as a bit like Pharisees -- so scandalized by the audacity of an entity that would call itself the One True Way that they wailed and rent their garments. All I could think was “Ouch.”

After a couple of weeks of attending the Episcopal church on my own, I convinced my husband (who was rather bewildered by my sudden discontent with the church in which we’d met) to accompany me one Sunday. My husband is a cradle Catholic, but had been away from the church for several years when I met him at a singles event at the Bible church. We were married in a protestant church (though not our own because of a lack of appropriate facilities) and never questioned whether our children would be raised protestant -- it was a given.

As anyone who is familiar with both the Catholic and Anglican liturgies can imagine, he was rather underwhelmed by the Episcopal/Anglican church. “It’s a lot like Catholic Church,” he said. “Why would you consider this, but not the Catholic Church?”

“It’s not the same thing!” I protested. “The beliefs are totally different.” I explained the major differences in a nutshell (the authority of the Pope, the Marian doctrines, purgatory, consubstantiation vs. transubstantiation) and he nodded thoughtfully. I added emphatically, “I’m just not comfortable with the Catholic Church’s beliefs!”

And then, in what was almost a throwaway line for my husband, he said the words that would eat at me for the next three weeks: “Why do you have to be comfortable with the church’s beliefs?” Again, all I could think was, “Ouch.”

Why, indeed? I realized that instead of trying to shape my theology to match God's, I was searching for a church to fit my theology. A theology carefully honed over a whopping eleven years. In between classes, work, dating, marriage, and a child. That’s the stuff of theological legend, right there . . . or maybe not.

The realization stung, but it wasn’t enough to get me to consider the Catholic church yet. In fact, I went the other way for a few days, thinking we should just stick with the megachurch since we’d both been happy there and they were such sticklers for the Bible.

But there was the rub -- the more I’d gone “back to the Bible” in search of answers, the more I realized it simply had to be a piece of the puzzle, and not the whole puzzle. The seeming contradictions (which, in retrospect, were only contradictions when viewed with a protestant hermeneutic), the “missing pieces,” the failure of the text to line up perfectly with what I’d always been taught.

I began to catch on to the fact that it was impossible to read the Bible without making at least a few interpretations of the text -- it just wasn’t sufficiently self-explanatory to make any sense otherwise. And it dawned on me that as hard as I was on Catholics for “blindly” accepting the Vatican’s interpretations of scripture, I’d essentially done the same thing. So much of my belief structure was based not on the Bible, but on someone else’s interpretation of the Bible. From “accepting Jesus as my personal savior” to “once saved, always saved,” I’d essentially built my faith on catchphrases and cute acronyms (like the ACTS way to pray -- adoration, confession, thanksgiving, and supplication; and PUSH -- pray until something happens!) without a lot of actual Biblical truth to back it up.

As I pondered these things, my husband left on a weeklong business trip, leaving me with much more time to think, read and pray after I put our son to bed. One night I was reading an article promoting infant baptism (we’d had our son “dedicated” but felt strongly that baptism was for believers only, which meant being old enough to believe) and found that the scholarship behind the article was frighteningly sound. I was ready to barge into my toddler’s bedroom and baptize him myself by the last few paragraphs of the article. I was stunned to reach the end of the piece and find that the source was a website called “Scripture Catholic.”

I went to the Scripture Catholic site and began surfing around, just kind of skimming the content. In another window I still had open the site at which I’d read the article about infant baptism. The next article on the list was a 1997 article by Mark Shea called “Five Myths About the Seven Books” in which he made the case quite compellingly for the veracity and validity of the seven deuterocanonical books found in the Catholic Bible and rather derisively called “the Apocrypha” by protestants. I was impressed by his logic and won over by his genial but no-nonsense tone. And as I read, point by point, his argument in favor of the Catholic canon, I realized that the implications of the argument went beyond the scope of just how many books should be in the Bible on my nightstand. I realized that in an indirect, but devastatingly effective way, he had made the case for the authority of the Catholic Church:

“In his later years St. Jerome [who had previously opposed the inclusion of the seven books in the canon] did indeed accept the Deuterocanonical books of the Bible. In fact, he wound up strenuously defending their status as inspired Scripture, writing, ‘What sin have I committed if I followed the judgment of the churches? [emphasis mine] But he who brings charges against me for relating the objections that the Hebrews are wont to raise against the story of Susanna, the Son of the Three Children, and the story of Bel and the Dragon, which are not found in the Hebrew volume (ie. canon), proves that he is just a foolish sycophant. For I wasn't relating my own personal views, but rather the remarks that they [the Jews] are wont to make against us’ (Against Rufinus 11:33 [A.D. 402]). In earlier correspondence with Pope Damasus, Jerome did not call the deuterocanonical books unscriptural, he simply said that Jews he knew did not regard them as canonical. But for himself, he acknowledged the authority of the Church in defining the canon. When Pope Damasus and the Councils of Carthage and Hippo included the deuterocanon in Scripture, that was good enough for St. Jerome. He ‘followed the judgment of the churches.’”

With much fear and trepidation (and a growing amount of genuine excitement, because this was just making TOO much sense all of a sudden) I clicked back over to Scripture Catholic, where I found a handy guide to where major Catholic teachings are found in Scripture. There was a section on Church Authority, and a section on the Primacy of Peter (AKA the Pope). With my Bible in one hand and my mouse in the other, I began to fact check everything. It is hardly an exaggeration to say that after a couple of hours of this, I was a convert, in mind if not yet in body.

As I read the scriptures with the mind of a Catholic, they came alive like never before. Thinking of Peter as the first Pope shed so much light on the dynamics of so many relationships in the New Testament. I noticed things I’d studiously ignored for years, like Jesus giving to the apostles the ability to forgive sins on earth so they’d be forgiven in heaven. I could go on and on, but I’d rather send you to Scripture Catholic to see for yourself. It’s truly eye opening if you’ve never seriously considered Catholic theology before.

At any rate, literally overnight I became a Catholic. In the days to come, I found myself reading protestant arguments on different forums and mentally picking them apart only to find that they fell short every time when put up against the Catholic teaching. That’s not to say there haven’t been plenty of debates won by protestants against Catholics, but I started to recognize that on these occasions, it was due to a lack of knowledge on the Catholic’s part, not a failure of the theology itself.

I also found a site with a lot of writings by the Early Church Fathers, people who knew and worked with the apostles themselves. To my surprise, these men were unarguably Catholic. (Present-day Catholic, not some kind of imaginary “early Catholic” of the type that was good enough to put together the Bible, but not good enough to hold the fullness of the truth for all generations.)

Even after my husband returned home, I kept all of this to myself for a few days, considering I had recently firmly proclaimed my opposition to all things Catholic. I didn’t want him to think I was flaky, or worse, schizophrenic. But as the desire to pursue this path grew inside of me, I sat my husband down over dinner and said, “Honey, I have a dilemma. While you were out of town, I did a lot of reading and praying, and I think God showed me that the Catholic Church is true.”

“Okay. . . ” he said, waiting expectantly for an explanation, which I tried clumsily to give. The words I came up with were not too different than the ones I’ve shared with you here. He was surprisingly open to the idea, and later told me that the reason he knew this was from God is because of the tremendous growth he’d seen in me both spiritually and personally surrounding the events of my conversion. “By their fruits you shall know them (Mt. 7:20),” and all that.

Fast forward to today. I am just about finished with the Rite of Christian Initiation for Adults (RCIA) and am getting ready to make my first confession. At Easter Vigil, I will be accepted into the fullness of the Catholic faith and receive Jesus Christ physically in the Eucharist for the very first time. I couldn’t possibly be more excited, and I am thankful to God that He showed me His truth in His perfect timing.

I am thankful for some other things, too. First of all, I am thankful for my protestant upbringing. All too many Catholics are raised into a sort of apathy and lack of knowledge of the faith. The Catholic faith is incredibly rich, vibrant and complex, but a lot of cradle Catholics have boiled it down to “be a good person and show up to Mass and you might avoid hell.” That’s incredibly sad and not at all what Jesus had in mind for His faithful, I feel quite sure. It’s also painful to watch so many cradle or “cultural” Catholics walk up and receive Jesus week after week not really believing or caring that it’s Him. Since I had to choose this faith for myself, and be truly convinced against all my prejudices of its veracity, I am profoundly aware of its beauty and truth. In short, it is because of my solid protestant background that my Catholic faith will be strong.

I am also thankful for God’s perfect timing and orchestration. From each website I visited seemingly at random, to the Catholic parish I happen to live in right now (with its incredible pastor who rivals the megachurch’s pastor in style and annihilates him in substance), everything seems to have been nothing if not a complete set-up by God to lead me into the Catholic church (and make me think it was my idea, ha!).

I am thankful for my husband, who is thoughtful and supportive and kind, and takes this God thing as seriously as I do. His support has been incredible, especially as I’ve dealt with a certain amount of fallout from family and friends who don’t understand or support my decision. And I’m thankful for my son, who served as yet another piece of the puzzle through the issue of baptism. Had I not had a baby sleeping in the next room, I’m quite sure I’d have never read up on infant baptism, and that was a major turning point in my conversion story.

Most of all, I’m thankful to God for His Church. What a gift. What peace in knowing there IS a plan, there IS a shepherd here on Earth, and there IS a way to know what the Bible really teaches. What perfect grace is offered through the sacraments. And what confidence is inspired by a 2,000 year unbroken tradition passed down from the Apostles themselves.

I am excited for my future as a Catholic. I’m fascinated by the depth and richness of a faith I could learn about for a lifetime and yet hardly scratch the surface. And I’m exceedingly grateful that all that depth is matched by a beautiful clarity and simplicity that can be understood by anyone with eyes to see or ears to hear.

I sincerely hope my sharing of this story will both adequately explain my own conversion and help some of you along the way in yours. Thanks so much for reading.

Where are you?

This is the question I'm getting. Over and over. I feel very noticed, so thanks!

The answer to the question is, I'm busy at home -- and in the Home Stretch of my swim across the Tiber River. Easter Vigil is right around the corner, and I'm trying to get spiritually ready to make my first confession and receive Jesus in the Eucharist for the first time. I'm also trying to pick a confirmation name, which is surprisingly difficult because there are just so many amazing saints to choose from. Right now I'm particularly enamored of Francis de Sales, Monica, and Therese of Lisieux. Not to mention Mary, who suddenly fascinates me thanks to our parish priest sharing some unique thoughts about her -- but I'm still so confused about her place in my life that I don't feel I can take her name as my own.

Meanwhile, we're putting our house on the market. My family lives in a narrow 3 level townhome, and the stairs and the lack of running space for my almost-two-year-old BOY BOY (BOY is he active) and the lack of yard and the multiple families crammed into a single unit across the street who favor really loud gangsta rap and late-night visitors and letting kids run wild are just too much to deal with anymore.

So we're going to move. And moving means selling, and selling means a thousand projects we should have done years ago so as to enjoy their fruits, but never got around to, and also a lot of plain old stress. So the time I would normally spend pondering theology and writing about it here has been spent packing extraneous stuff into boxes, pushing a paint roller, searching the listings database for new digs, and arguing with my poor husband about how much money we can afford to spend on the house of our dreams. Or any house at all.

Thanks be to God that He is the God who meets us even in the midst of boxes, tape, magic markers and Magic Erasers. Otherwise I'd have gone completely insane by now.

The busy life of a Priest

So, we were supposed to solve the dilemma outlined in my last post today. I had a nagging feeling all week that it wasn't going to happen. Sure enough, Father got called to the ER right before our family meeting with him. So all is postponed until further notice from him.

I signed up for something called "Myspace" (you might have heard of it) to find old friends and reconnect. It asks for your religious affiliation -- I managed to gather my courage and mark myself "Catholic." The curious e-mails from friends I haven't spoken to in years have already begun. This should be fun. "Watch the newbie defend the faith." It should be a TV show on EWTN.

A New Year, A New Life

Well, the ball is in my court. I talked to the priest after RCIA last week and told him I'd discovered that the "normal" way of entry to the Catholic Church for a faithful churchgoer like me is to just join -- no RCIA necessary. He agreed. So whenever I'm ready, I can just go to confession and take first communion.

I'm torn. I believe in the Church. I want to be part of it. It kills me to sit there during Mass and not be able to physically receive Jesus in the Eucharist. So I should just join and everything will be perfect, right? But there's a part of me that loves the idea of this waiting time as a time of penance, preparation and reflection. The build-up to Easter Vigil, the significance of my spiritual renewal in God's Church conjoined with Jesus' Resurrection -- the symbolism is great, and imbues this rite of passage with much meaning and drama.

So, to wait and reflect, or jump in with both feet on faith. That is the question. In the interest of family unity, I'm leaning toward doing this sooner rather than later. My son was baptized on New Year's Eve (a joyous occasion it was!), and my husband, of course, is ready to come "home" as soon as we cen get our marriage convalidated (the "living as brother and sister" idea was a bit much for him, so he's waiting to take communion until we're "legal"). So we meet with the priest as a family on February 2, and we'll make all the arrangements then.

It's so strange to think of how different my life will be. Catholicism, this ancient, alien (to me) faith, will now be a part of the rhythm of our daily lives. It will dictate how we spend our Sundays, affect how we make love and plan for children, cost us a fortune in Catholic school tuition if we choose to go that route . . .

But it will also unify us with a body of believers around the world who all live with that same rhythm. We can go on vacation in Europe or South America or Australia and worship the same way we do at home. Have you ever noticed how very American most non-denominational protestant churches are? It's hard to picture the format translating elsewhere, even as the world becomes smaller and more interconnected. But the Catholic, or universal Church transcends both nationality and culture. It's centered on one thing, which is the weekly acceptance of Christ by His people in a tangible form given and commanded by the Lord Himself. The Eucharist is the same in every language and every culture. It is Jesus, come to save.