My Conversion Story
by Andrew Kellner

I consider myself to be greatly blessed because I was given the greatest gift that any parent can give to their child, faith. Growing up my parents always made sure that my sisters and I attended Sunday services, Sunday school, vacation Bible School and other events offered by the different faith communities we attended during my childhood. But faith had its deepest roots in our home. I can remember my parents praying with us and reading us Bible stories, as a part of our family life. It became deeply rooted into who I am.

Growing up in a Protestant home brought with it great gifts. The emphasis on Holy Scripture continues to help me to turn to this treasure for comfort, reassurance, guidance and direction. The importance of serving others and making sacrifices for them has opened my mind and heart to those around me. The great sense of community and fellowship helps me realize my connection with other believers. This and much more I retain to this day. I am blessed even more though because somehow God gave me more than this.

It has been three years since I was received into the Church and I still stand in awe of the journey that led me there and of how that journey continues in my life. I stand in awe because as I look back over events that seemed insignificant they take on deep meaning and worth. When I entered college I was exploring ministry in the United Methodist Church; all I wanted was to be a preacher in Northern Michigan serving a small rural congregation. What I knew about Catholics was above all that they were wrong. I had attended Mass with my Catholic grandparents so I knew when to stand up and sit down. I really did not think much about Catholics or the Catholic Church.

That started to change though, a change that began to take firm roots one Sunday when I was visiting my grandmother. I took her to Mass as I typically would do when I saw her. However, that Mass was different. Before Mass, Fr. Arnold announced that it was our "lucky day"; he was going to explain the Mass. He did just that; from start to finish he explained why everything was done. He gave meaning to movements, words and symbols which for me had never had any. I saw that there was something to this liturgy thing. It really did collect people together beyond their own personal lives and devotions and guided them into prayer. This was the first time I recognized that liturgy had beauty in it. I tucked this new found knowledge into the back of my mind. But Catholics were still wrong.

During my college career, I became more and more restless and unsatisfied with the answers I was getting for some of my questions about the teachings of the United Methodist Church and life in general. But I persisted and earned my nickname of "Mr. Methodist." I was a poster-boy.

In my junior year I was helping to give a series of Lenten reflections on the Passion of Christ through the five senses. One evening I was talking about the sense of taste and was reflecting on how the Passion began in the upper room with the tastes of bread and wine. Departing from my notes, I began to talk about communion and said that in communion God wanted to give all of himself to us. This raised a stir with some of my friends but as I reflected on this unplanned statement, I became more and more convinced of it. This again I tucked into the back of my mind.
In my senior year I became a certified candidate for ministry in the United Methodist Church preparing to enter seminary the following fall. But I had an encounter that shifted those plans completely. It was Ash Wednesday; I had been reflecting and meditating on Pilate’s question to Jesus, "What is the truth?" It happened that I was unable to attend the service at the local UMC, but a Catholic friend invited me to go to Mass. This was the first Mass I had attended since Fr. Arnold’s three years earlier. So there I was at Mass and the priest was saying the words of consecration and something happened. This is how I can best explain it. I encountered the Truth. God was truly present. Perhaps Catholics were not so wrong after all.

I started going to Mass and reading whatever I could get: the Catechism of the Catholic Church, the early Church Fathers, and anything else that came my way. I also started talking and listening. I asked any Protestant minister for explanations, but they all came up short. I made an appointment to talk to Sister Celine back home in Bellaire.
But I was hooked and before Easter rolled around I knew this is where I belonged. It was within the

Church that all the great gifts my parents had given me made sense and took on even richer meaning and depth. The Church is my home and she is our home. We belong, we find meaning, we find companions for the journey and most of all we encounter Christ in himself and in his Body. We are the Body of Christ and we belong together as one. I pray that all Christians may be one and that God will continue to bless his Church here in Cheboygan and everywhere she is found. Peace.