(Me and Greg, Easter 2002)
I have early memories of my childhood, as early as my second birthday, some even earlier. I can remember feeling at a very young age that even when I was alone, someone else was with me. It was a comforting presence. Later, I learned that God was the presence I felt. I learned that God exists in three persons: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. God the Father sent His Son to earth as a man, Jesus, to show us the way to heaven. When He returned to heaven, He sent the Holy Spirit to guide us.
I said a prayer asking Jesus to come into my heart to make it “official” at an old-fashioned revival the summer I was eight years old. A few weeks later, I was baptized in my own Baptist church. (1981, I think? The church burned later and my baptismal record along with it.) The importance of baptism, I had been taught, was that it was a public profession of faith, an act of obedience. Afterward, I stood up front, and the congregation sang a joyful hymn and processed down the aisle to shake my hand, hug my neck and welcome me into the Church. I was presented with my very own "adult" King James Version Bible, which I read because I was a voracious reader even in second grade. (My first grade teacher, Mrs. Buck, kept giving me more advanced books to read until I was reading from sixth grade books. She also let me read from the Bible she kept in her desk.)
But my childhood was turbulent.
My mom had an intellectual disability, along with other psychiatric issues. She said she didn’t finish high school because she was bullied, and I witnessed people calling her names and talking bad about her behind her back in my presence. We walked around town together a lot because she often didn’t have a car, and sometimes people yelled things like "retard" or "fat ass" as they drove by. More polite people suddenly spoke in hushed voices when we were around, and even the good church folk whispered. None of it escaped my notice.
My Dad also had challenges. He also saw psychiatrists and was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. He made several suicide attempts by overdosing on his medications during my childhood and teen years. But most people could see he had a kind heart, and I thought he tried his best to follow Jesus. I loved him very much.
He and my mom lived together and moved out and divorced and remarried each other so many times I lost count (five divorces maybe?) My mom went on to marry and divorce and live with several other men. My Dad married my stepmom, and they lived together for more than 20 years until he died. She brought him some stability.
When my parents separated, my dad always took my brother with him, but sometimes he left me with my mom, and I felt abandoned. We frequently moved from one broken down rent house, trailer park, or apartment to another. We got food stamps, but when those quickly ran out, we ate beans and potatoes for weeks. My mom mostly slept or watched tv, and I spent a lot of time alone. I preferred that to when she was awake and screaming at me. Our house was always embarrassingly filthy. Sometimes our utilities were shut off, and in the winter, she couldn't keep a fire going in the wood stove. My clothes were worn donations and usually dirty. Nobody helped me wash my naturally curly hair or brush my teeth. Rather than deal with my tangled curls, the adults in my life cut my hair very short, and that was just one more thing that made me feel ugly. I was teased and bullied a lot at school. People gossiped about the men that sometimes hung around, but nobody seemed to wonder whether I was safe or not. Social workers showed up a couple times over the years, but nothing ever happened.
I felt like I didn’t belong anywhere, not in my extended family, not at school, not at church. I heard said within my earshot, on many occasions, some variation of “that poor girl ain't gonna amount to a hill of beans.”
And I questioned the One who made me, the One whose presence I could still feel—“I thought you loved me? Why do you let all this happen to me?”
I was 12 years old when I returned home from school one day to find my mom had left, for good that time. A few months later, my dad married my stepmom. By then, I had learned to take care of myself. I was in advanced classes at school, and I made mostly As. I started playing clarinet in the band, and I made friends. I even eventually made the All-State band in high school and earned music and academic scholarships that completely paid for attending the college of my choice.
But in seventh grade, I began having nightmares, the kind that caused me to run screaming out the front door. Those nightmares continued until I was almost 30.
For a time, I turned away from God. People said I had a chip on my shoulder; really, I had just stopped caring about what anyone thought about me or said about me, and I was blunt with my opinions. I lived with my great-grandma in high school, but I felt unwanted and a burden. Then I moved in with my older police officer boyfriend my senior year of high school. We got married a week before I turned 18, had a baby together a couple years later, and divorced after five years. I chose to try to make it on my own rather than tolerate unfaithfulness and physical abuse.
I finally got to a place in my life where I thought I would find some peace. I graduated nursing school and began working as a Registered Nurse. I bought my own house. I finally didn’t need to depend on anyone else. I lived my life the way I wanted, rules be damned!
Doing “whatever makes you happy” did not make me truly happy, nor did it bring me peace or fill the emptiness inside me. By the time I realized that and looked back to God, there He was, quietly waiting. I questioned everything...why did I believe God was real and not a figment of my imagination? How did I know Jesus was really who the Apostles said He was? How did I know He really rose from the dead? I did what I always did when I had questions…read books.
I was 24 years old when I decided I would follow Jesus, for real, no turning back. I didn't just have myself to think of, I had a child, and I wanted so much for her to have a better life than I did. I began praying on my way to and from work, bought a new Bible. I attended different churches looking for one to attend regularly. I settled on a non-denominational church.
At work, I was precepted by an older Christian nurse my first 12 weeks on the job. I loved Ann Thomas. She was loving, and she was also tough. We had many discussions about the Bible at the nurses’ station at 2am. She encouraged my interest in a cute Respiratory Therapist, Greg, who seemed different from any other guy I had met. “Greg is such a nice young man,” she would say. “He’s a Christian, you know.”
At work, I was precepted by an older Christian nurse my first 12 weeks on the job. I loved Ann Thomas. She was loving, and she was also tough. We had many discussions about the Bible at the nurses’ station at 2am. She encouraged my interest in a cute Respiratory Therapist, Greg, who seemed different from any other guy I had met. “Greg is such a nice young man,” she would say. “He’s a Christian, you know.”
(A picture of Ann at our wedding reception. She’s the one who crocheted all those snowflakes I put on our tree every Christmas.)
I noticed Greg brought his Bible to work some nights.
And then I noticed he also brought the Catechism of the Catholic Church some nights.
Wait, a Catholic? They wear crucifixes, they say the Lord’s Prayer, but they have other strange beliefs. I had not known many Catholics growing up, but the ones I did know could not answer my questions satisfactorily. What they said confused me, and nobody could answer "but why?"
But Greg was endearing, and I enjoyed his quirky sense of humor. We began spending a lot of time together, although I had no intention of getting seriously involved with him.
Our conversations about our beliefs began when he offered to help me paint and wallpaper my house. As we worked, I asked him the usual questions. As I had suspected, Greg stumbled over answering my questions about his faith, and I had the hope of "converting" him.
I was a member of Calvary Chapel (nondenominational) by this time and was serious about studying my Bible. I had bought a Strong’s Concordance so I could dig deeper into what it all meant. I read about the Catholic Church from tracts that were displayed at Calvary Chapel services, and I tried to share what I read with Greg, that the Church he belonged to was a false church.
In the meantime, Greg began searching the internet (this was 1998), and buying Catholic books, audiotapes, and videotapes. He stubbornly believed that he was a member of the true Church, and if he didn’t know the answers to my objections, he was going to find them!
When Greg shared with me what he learned from his Catholic books and tapes and articles, it would only make me angry. I just knew that this stuff couldn't be true. I believed the Bible was all I needed to support what I believed. Yet, with only the Bible, I couldn't come up with satisfactory rebuttals to the Catholic arguments, which heavily referenced Scripture. I could only present what I believed the Bible said. For some people, a subjective, emotional argument—what I feel or believe — is compelling. But Greg wouldn’t accept my interpretation over his Church’s interpretation. It dawned on me that if nobody has the authority to interpret Scripture for me, then logically, I also cannot interpret Scripture for them. I couldn’t tell Greg the Catholic interpretation is wrong…only I don't agree with it.
Wait, a Catholic? They wear crucifixes, they say the Lord’s Prayer, but they have other strange beliefs. I had not known many Catholics growing up, but the ones I did know could not answer my questions satisfactorily. What they said confused me, and nobody could answer "but why?"
But Greg was endearing, and I enjoyed his quirky sense of humor. We began spending a lot of time together, although I had no intention of getting seriously involved with him.
Our conversations about our beliefs began when he offered to help me paint and wallpaper my house. As we worked, I asked him the usual questions. As I had suspected, Greg stumbled over answering my questions about his faith, and I had the hope of "converting" him.
I was a member of Calvary Chapel (nondenominational) by this time and was serious about studying my Bible. I had bought a Strong’s Concordance so I could dig deeper into what it all meant. I read about the Catholic Church from tracts that were displayed at Calvary Chapel services, and I tried to share what I read with Greg, that the Church he belonged to was a false church.
In the meantime, Greg began searching the internet (this was 1998), and buying Catholic books, audiotapes, and videotapes. He stubbornly believed that he was a member of the true Church, and if he didn’t know the answers to my objections, he was going to find them!
When Greg shared with me what he learned from his Catholic books and tapes and articles, it would only make me angry. I just knew that this stuff couldn't be true. I believed the Bible was all I needed to support what I believed. Yet, with only the Bible, I couldn't come up with satisfactory rebuttals to the Catholic arguments, which heavily referenced Scripture. I could only present what I believed the Bible said. For some people, a subjective, emotional argument—what I feel or believe — is compelling. But Greg wouldn’t accept my interpretation over his Church’s interpretation. It dawned on me that if nobody has the authority to interpret Scripture for me, then logically, I also cannot interpret Scripture for them. I couldn’t tell Greg the Catholic interpretation is wrong…only I don't agree with it.
I am my own authority.
And everyone else can claim that authority for themselves.
Greg left his books at my house, and I could not stop myself from opening them. I figured I should use Catholic sources so I could build a successful argument. Many objections I raised didn’t gain traction because they were based on misinformation. This was one of the first things that made me uncomfortable. Were those tracts I had read uninformed…or did they intentionally misrepresent Catholic beliefs so that they would be easier to refute? That’s called a “straw man argument.” I thought it weakened their…our…credibility.
Eventually, we came to a point in our relationship where we both felt we needed to get married or part ways. We couldn’t seem to let each other go, we both prayed about it, and we decided to begin marriage preparation. I honestly felt a little resentment having to jump through hoops to get my previous marriage annulled, so that this Church would allow us to get married! But when it was over, I surprisingly felt closure and peace. (The annulment was straightforward—my first marriage was to someone who had been previously married and divorced; that prevented it from being a sacramental marriage. I hope to share more of the what and why later.)
We agreed to disagree and live in peace, each striving to serve God together in our own way.
I saw plenty examples of successful marriages where spouses had different beliefs. We went ahead with our marriage plans and were married in December 1999, at Our Lady of Good Counsel Catholic Church, with Fr. Mark Wood and my pastor from Calvary Chapel co-officiating. We settled down in my hometown, and I began attending First Landmark Baptist church where I was baptized as a child, even though I didn’t agree with everything they taught. I didn’t agree with everything in any denomination or non-denomination, but I read in my Bible that I should gather with other believers. Greg attended Sunday school with me there, and afterward, he walked over to Holy Cross Catholic Church a couple of blocks away to attend Mass. After Mass, he visited over coffee and donuts, and I picked him up when my service ended. On special occasions, I attended Mass with him. We were both fairly comfortable with this arrangement. Even so, I asked my Sunday school class to pray with me that Greg would leave the Catholic Church and come to church with me. In the meantime…
While we were going through our marriage prep, we had to sit through a talk on NFP (Natural Family Planning.) As a RN, I believed that the Catholic Church's teaching on contraception was ignorant and outdated. I did not listen with an open mind (remind me to share my amusing story about that experience.) But the information presented was different from what I expected, and it got my attention. I learned NFP has a solid scientific foundation, and I reluctantly admitted it deserved further research, mainly because hormonal contraception had caused bad side effects for me.
I did start reading about NFP, and then why the Catholic Church opposes contraception, and I was exposed for the first time to the moral issues involved in using contraception. Because I really did desire to please God in all aspects of my life, I took those into consideration. As a result, I was led to the Church's teaching on marriage, and I was touched by it. I had already seen the world's ideas about marriage (and the churches I had attended were very much influenced by the world view.) I didn't want that. I wanted this for my marriage.
I had become pro-life with the birth of my first daughter, and I was convicted by the information on the abortifacient effects of hormonal contraceptives (the pill, depro-provera, Norplant, etc.) It made me uncomfortable to learn that until 1930, every Christian denomination taught that contraception is a sin, yet today only one Church still teaches this. Pope Paul VI made predictions on the moral decay that would ensue once contraception was widely embraced by society…and every one of those predictions came true. It's even worse now than when I converted twenty years ago.
I also felt uncomfortable by the lack of unity among Christians. All the Protestant/ evangelical/ fundamentalist/ whatever they call themselves denominations who claim the Bible alone as their sole authority on matters of faith and morals, also claim that Scripture is clear and can easily be interpreted by the individual with the help of the Holy Spirit. If that’s true, any one of them should easily be able to definitively say “this is how we spend eternity with Jesus.” And everyone’s answers should agree. But that’s not how it works, is it? This one says faith alone. That one says faith and works. This one says it’s eternally secured. That one says we can fall away. This one says baptism is only a symbol, that one says baptism is necessary for salvation. Ok–when and how should it be done? This one says you have to receive the Holy Spirit and speak in tongues? That one says God predestined us before the world began? And they all have the Bible verses to prove it.
Greg left his books at my house, and I could not stop myself from opening them. I figured I should use Catholic sources so I could build a successful argument. Many objections I raised didn’t gain traction because they were based on misinformation. This was one of the first things that made me uncomfortable. Were those tracts I had read uninformed…or did they intentionally misrepresent Catholic beliefs so that they would be easier to refute? That’s called a “straw man argument.” I thought it weakened their…our…credibility.
Eventually, we came to a point in our relationship where we both felt we needed to get married or part ways. We couldn’t seem to let each other go, we both prayed about it, and we decided to begin marriage preparation. I honestly felt a little resentment having to jump through hoops to get my previous marriage annulled, so that this Church would allow us to get married! But when it was over, I surprisingly felt closure and peace. (The annulment was straightforward—my first marriage was to someone who had been previously married and divorced; that prevented it from being a sacramental marriage. I hope to share more of the what and why later.)
We agreed to disagree and live in peace, each striving to serve God together in our own way.
I saw plenty examples of successful marriages where spouses had different beliefs. We went ahead with our marriage plans and were married in December 1999, at Our Lady of Good Counsel Catholic Church, with Fr. Mark Wood and my pastor from Calvary Chapel co-officiating. We settled down in my hometown, and I began attending First Landmark Baptist church where I was baptized as a child, even though I didn’t agree with everything they taught. I didn’t agree with everything in any denomination or non-denomination, but I read in my Bible that I should gather with other believers. Greg attended Sunday school with me there, and afterward, he walked over to Holy Cross Catholic Church a couple of blocks away to attend Mass. After Mass, he visited over coffee and donuts, and I picked him up when my service ended. On special occasions, I attended Mass with him. We were both fairly comfortable with this arrangement. Even so, I asked my Sunday school class to pray with me that Greg would leave the Catholic Church and come to church with me. In the meantime…
While we were going through our marriage prep, we had to sit through a talk on NFP (Natural Family Planning.) As a RN, I believed that the Catholic Church's teaching on contraception was ignorant and outdated. I did not listen with an open mind (remind me to share my amusing story about that experience.) But the information presented was different from what I expected, and it got my attention. I learned NFP has a solid scientific foundation, and I reluctantly admitted it deserved further research, mainly because hormonal contraception had caused bad side effects for me.
I did start reading about NFP, and then why the Catholic Church opposes contraception, and I was exposed for the first time to the moral issues involved in using contraception. Because I really did desire to please God in all aspects of my life, I took those into consideration. As a result, I was led to the Church's teaching on marriage, and I was touched by it. I had already seen the world's ideas about marriage (and the churches I had attended were very much influenced by the world view.) I didn't want that. I wanted this for my marriage.
I had become pro-life with the birth of my first daughter, and I was convicted by the information on the abortifacient effects of hormonal contraceptives (the pill, depro-provera, Norplant, etc.) It made me uncomfortable to learn that until 1930, every Christian denomination taught that contraception is a sin, yet today only one Church still teaches this. Pope Paul VI made predictions on the moral decay that would ensue once contraception was widely embraced by society…and every one of those predictions came true. It's even worse now than when I converted twenty years ago.
I also felt uncomfortable by the lack of unity among Christians. All the Protestant/ evangelical/ fundamentalist/ whatever they call themselves denominations who claim the Bible alone as their sole authority on matters of faith and morals, also claim that Scripture is clear and can easily be interpreted by the individual with the help of the Holy Spirit. If that’s true, any one of them should easily be able to definitively say “this is how we spend eternity with Jesus.” And everyone’s answers should agree. But that’s not how it works, is it? This one says faith alone. That one says faith and works. This one says it’s eternally secured. That one says we can fall away. This one says baptism is only a symbol, that one says baptism is necessary for salvation. Ok–when and how should it be done? This one says you have to receive the Holy Spirit and speak in tongues? That one says God predestined us before the world began? And they all have the Bible verses to prove it.
Which one is the true interpretation and which ones are the false teachings? Any discussion about these things with a Christian from another faith tradition quickly dissolves into circular reasoning. The massive divisions, bickering, and confusion cannot be from the Holy Spirit. It goes against the repeated admonitions in the Bible for believers to avoid dissension and factions and to remain united, remain ONE. The Bible says Christ is the head of the Church, the Church is His body...and a head can only have one body. It gives the non-believers ammunition to use against the Gospel message.
I figured if anyone was in a position to help us interpret Scripture correctly, it was the early Church Fathers, who lived closer to the time of the Apostles. Like the Apostles, many chose death over renouncing what they believed. They kept Christianity alive when the emperors worked to extinguish it.
I had always believed that the Church started off on the right track, teaching what Jesus and the Apostles taught, but then as the centuries progressed, the Church moved farther and farther from Biblical truth, inserting "tradition" in it's place. I had been taught that this apostasy began with the so-called conversion of Constantine and Christianity becoming the official religion of the Roman empire. After that, Christianity became "paganized" but an underground group of the faithful kept the true Biblical teaching alive until the errors were finally corrected during the Reformation.
But that’s not what I discovered when I read the Church Fathers’ writings for myself. I thought they sounded more Catholic than Protestant. The belief that the bread and wine—called the Eucharist by the early Church— is really the flesh and blood of Jesus, not just a symbol, flows smoothly from John chapter 6 and 1 Corinthians 11:23-30 to St. Ignatius of Antioch and onward. Where in the Bible does it say it’s symbolic? If the Bible doesn’t say it, that’s a tradition, right? I could trace the origin of believing it was symbolic to more than 1500 years later. It seemed to me that the doctrines of Martin Luther and the other so-called Reformers who split from him were the doctrines that diverged. The more I read writings of the Reformers, the more my sinking feeling grew. “You will know them by their fruits.” The fruit of the Reformation-- the Body of Christ splintering into dozens of bickering fractions--is what the Bible calls a work of the flesh, not a fruit of the Holy Spirit.
The early Church was in agreement that the teaching of the Apostles and their successors was authoritative, whether by word of mouth or by letter. This unity and agreement caused the early church to be called “catholic” (Greek for “universal”) from the get-go. St. Ignatius, bishop of Antioch, a martyr and associate of St. John the Apostle, referred to the catholic Church in his Epistle to the Smyrnaeans on the way to his martyrdom around 107-110 AD. For reference, St. John wrote his gospel somewhere between 90-110 AD. (I have a link to all the writings of the Church Fathers in the sidebar to the right.)
But that’s not what I discovered when I read the Church Fathers’ writings for myself. I thought they sounded more Catholic than Protestant. The belief that the bread and wine—called the Eucharist by the early Church— is really the flesh and blood of Jesus, not just a symbol, flows smoothly from John chapter 6 and 1 Corinthians 11:23-30 to St. Ignatius of Antioch and onward. Where in the Bible does it say it’s symbolic? If the Bible doesn’t say it, that’s a tradition, right? I could trace the origin of believing it was symbolic to more than 1500 years later. It seemed to me that the doctrines of Martin Luther and the other so-called Reformers who split from him were the doctrines that diverged. The more I read writings of the Reformers, the more my sinking feeling grew. “You will know them by their fruits.” The fruit of the Reformation-- the Body of Christ splintering into dozens of bickering fractions--is what the Bible calls a work of the flesh, not a fruit of the Holy Spirit.
The early Church was in agreement that the teaching of the Apostles and their successors was authoritative, whether by word of mouth or by letter. This unity and agreement caused the early church to be called “catholic” (Greek for “universal”) from the get-go. St. Ignatius, bishop of Antioch, a martyr and associate of St. John the Apostle, referred to the catholic Church in his Epistle to the Smyrnaeans on the way to his martyrdom around 107-110 AD. For reference, St. John wrote his gospel somewhere between 90-110 AD. (I have a link to all the writings of the Church Fathers in the sidebar to the right.)
I also discovered where the Bible came from. For almost four centuries, the Church was without an official canon. When Christians gathered to celebrate the Eucharist, they read from the writings of the Old Testament (the Greek Septuagint, which contained the deuterocanon), gospel accounts, and epistles that had been copied and passed around. Writings such as the epistle of Clement, Barnabas, and the Didache (Teaching of the Twelve) were thought to be inspired by some in early centuries. The second epistle of Peter, Hebrews, James, 2 and 3 John, and Revelation were not thought to be inspired by a few. As with the issue of circumcision in Acts 15, they didn’t say “do what the Holy Spirit leads you to do”, they called together Church leaders and came to an agreement. An official universal canon was decided upon. The list of books to include as Sacred Scripture appeared at the Council of Rome in 382 AD, the Synod of Hippo in 393 AD, and the Councils of Carthage in 397 and 419 AD. They were reaffirmed later at the Council of Florence in 1431–1449 and once again reaffirmed at the Council of Trent in 1545-1563.
Since neither Jesus nor the Apostles recorded which writings were The Word of God, how do we know men got it right?
We all believe by the guidance of the Holy Spirit, yes?
Well, these lists included the seven books of the deuterocanon. They were accepted as Sacred Scripture for more than 1500 years, until they were disputed by one man, Martin Luther. Did the Holy Spirit lead the existing Church when they decided and reaffirmed the canon all those years…or did He leave His Church without guidance and in error for 1500 years before sending Martin Luther to correct it? That didn’t line up with Jesus’ promises to not leave us as orphans or that the gates of hell would not prevail against His Church.
Well, these lists included the seven books of the deuterocanon. They were accepted as Sacred Scripture for more than 1500 years, until they were disputed by one man, Martin Luther. Did the Holy Spirit lead the existing Church when they decided and reaffirmed the canon all those years…or did He leave His Church without guidance and in error for 1500 years before sending Martin Luther to correct it? That didn’t line up with Jesus’ promises to not leave us as orphans or that the gates of hell would not prevail against His Church.
It also didn’t line up with what I had been taught about the canon being closed after the book of Revelation was written by John.
Before the printing press was invented around 1440 AD, the writings were painstakingly copied by the hands of Catholic priests and monks who worked as scribes. There are no surviving originals, only copies. But how can we trust that those copies that eventually made their way to the printing presses, to the Bible I now hold in my hand, contain no errors?
Again, by guidance and protection of the Holy Spirit, right?
If the Holy Spirit guided the men in this Church to preserve The Word of God by hand for centuries without error, then He also led the men in this Church to authoritatively define what books belonged in Word of God.
If the Holy Spirit guided the men in this Church to preserve The Word of God by hand for centuries without error, then He also led the men in this Church to authoritatively define what books belonged in Word of God.
Since the Holy Spirit was guiding this Church all those years, I can also trust this Church to interpret what it means.
And how ironic that the Bible itself establishes apostolic tradition and teaching authority, rather than claiming that authority for what was written. Or in the case of the New Testament, what was still in the process of being written. (I hope to go deeper on this later.)
The turning point for me came with the birth of Moriah. Even though I submitted to being married in Greg's Church, I drew the line at having our children baptized Catholic. My faith was equally as important to me, and I didn’t believe in infant baptism. Greg didn’t press the issue. His priest also didn’t press the issue, telling me, “you don’t have to promise anything; you’re not the one who’s Catholic.”
The turning point for me came with the birth of Moriah. Even though I submitted to being married in Greg's Church, I drew the line at having our children baptized Catholic. My faith was equally as important to me, and I didn’t believe in infant baptism. Greg didn’t press the issue. His priest also didn’t press the issue, telling me, “you don’t have to promise anything; you’re not the one who’s Catholic.”
My dear friend Andrea, who had also been raised Baptist, started attending a Presbyterian church and brought up the subject of infant baptism. I argued against it. And then my soul wouldn’t rest. I felt the unmistakable, persistent nudge to have Moriah baptized. I had to question what I believed about baptism and why, question what the Catholic Church teaches about baptism and why, search Scripture, search early Christian writings for what they believed and practiced…yes, while praying to the Holy Spirit for guidance.
After Moriah was born, I had more time during the day to pray, read, think, and ask questions from solid Catholic sources on the internet. The answers I received were logical, consistent, and gave credible sources which could be checked. For the first time, the pieces were fitting together. Once I made the decision to have Moriah baptized, I was pretty sure I would become Catholic as well. But all my research was done in secret. I didn't want Greg to suspect I was seeking, just in case I came across something that would cause me to change my mind.
One Sunday, while Greg was at the hospital working, I went to his Church after Mass, and Fr. Wilfred stayed and talked with me for about 3 hours. When Greg came home that evening, I announced to him, "I've talked to your priest about having Moriah baptized, and I've decided to become Catholic as well." I'll never forget the look on his face, the way his eyes filled with tears. It’s one of my cherished memories.
I began classes in fall of 2001 and was received into The Church that Jesus founded on Easter Vigil 2002. Sometimes even now, years later, at unexpected moments, like during a normal Mass, or at Eucharistic adoration, or while praying the rosary, or even while driving down the road, I'll become overwhelmed with gratitude. My soul is home.
I finally began healing from my rough start in life. The nightmares stopped soon after Greg and I created our home together and I began the process of converting to the Catholic faith. But it's been a long, slow process. Over time, I began to understand more about why bad things happen to people who don’t deserve it and how God can use those circumstances to bring about greater good, but I’ll save that deep conversation for another time.
God promises peace, and He keeps His promises. We just gotta trust Him enough to follow where He leads us.
I just briefly touched on topics here, I didn't get too deep or pull out all the Bible verses or references, because this is my story, and I wanted to keep it a short story, not a novel, not a documentary.
Hopefully, I can talk more in-depth later, and I'll bring the references then.
I know some of you kids don’t care to read (how can that even be?), so I will to try to make videos, too, even though I hate the way I look and sound on video. I’m continually working on humility.
But if I’m called home before I can share all my thoughts, don't forget that I want y’all to always pray, think, ask questions, and search.
But if I’m called home before I can share all my thoughts, don't forget that I want y’all to always pray, think, ask questions, and search.
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