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DocJBB
Member
| Joined: | Mon May 7th, 2007 |
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| Posts: | 3 |
| First Name: | John | | Gender: | Male | | Faith History: | Catholic to Lutheran (ELCA) to PCA to CREC to Catholic ... |
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Posted: Mon May 7th, 2007 12:35 pm |
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I was born into a nominally Christian family. Our faith never seemed important to us, and I never really understood why my parents wanted to go to the local methodist church now and then. I was not baptised as an infant, but do remember thinking about God as a very young child. My first remembered conscious interaction with God happened when I was about 5 or 6 years old. The Apollo moon landings were about to happen, and I remember lying in bed thinking about how the Universe goes on forever and ever. I remember thinking that if this were the case, there need be no beginning or end of things, and therefore, no need for a God. “God,” I said to the darkness of the room and somewhat afraid because of it, “ I don’t believe in you. You do not exist.” I remember waiting for something to happen, or some change in the feeling of the darkness around me, but nothing happened. “That settled it,” I thought, “there was no God.”
Shortly after this, I had a moral experience in which I did something wicked and self serving, and found that there was no fixing it, and that because of that act, something beautiful and innocent (a goldfish) had been destroyed and was gone forever and ever. The reality of the permanence of loss shook me, and shattered one of the fundamental “truths” I had been telling myself as a child, that no matter how bad things were, or how much trouble I’d been in, that the next day everything was a new start, fresh and clean. Now it was clear that there was no washing away the past, no protective coat of forgetfulness, and the things we do cling to us always and forever, no matter how much we wish it were otherwise.
My atheism, or rather my confrontational and antagonistic approach to God, increased as I grew older. The high school circles I ran in contained both secularists like myself and some Christian protestants. One of my favorite pastimes was baiting and debating the Christians. This was usually rather easy, for young people often seem to have difficulty defending the intellectual foundations of their beliefs, and because it is an easier task by far to be the attacking sceptic who need defend nothing, than to be the defender of some system. One day I was happily engaged in this activity while hanging out with friends when the older sister of one of the friends wandered into the room. She listened a bit, and then tossed out an argument in defense of Christianity that just floored me. I wish I could remember what the argument was exactly, but what I do remember was asking my friend where her sister had gotten that argument from. “Oh, that was from C.S. Lewis, “ she replied.
C.S. Lewis... I had not heard of him before, but decided that had to change. I was not going to be caught flat footed again. It was the beginning of the end. In Lewis I found the inconsistencies of my atheism. I knew certain truths about reality and the universe. There was such a thing as right and wrong. There is such a thing as a person, and beauty. These were fundamental axioms for which I could not account in an atheistic universe. I had already had some uncomfortable hints of this before Lewis in my reading of Isaac Asimov and Robert Heinlein, especially the stories which spoke of the meaning of existence and the end of the universe, and so the end of mankind. The conclusions which their imaginations explored just didn’t fit with the “facts” of existence as I knew them (I was a pretty arrogant youth). I was forced to reconsider the decision I had made as a 5 or 6 year old. I assured myself that it was only proper to do so, for how much more I now knew as a 16-17 year old than I knew then! God, fortunately, did not reciprocate my antagonism to Him, and as soon as I lowered by defenses by the slightest bit, His love and mercy flowed in. Certainly intellectual satisfaction was had through the instrumentality of C.S. Lewis, and then St. Augustine, the scriptures, Iraeneus, and other Church fathers, but the real proof to me was the relational experience. I became hungry for God, for intimacy with him, even while I was working out exactly what that meant. I became a Christian.
About this time I entered College and was faced with the possibility of going to Church. But which one? Again I tried to think about what I knew most certainly. God was omnipotent, omnipresent, and deeply concerned with us, loving us. Human sin and error can never defeat Him or His plans. Scriptures tell us of his continuing interaction with us, and drawing us to himself as a people of God, and using human messengers as his primary mode of operation. I could not believe He would change (He is , He was , and He always will be), and so any “real” church would have human institutional integrity from the time of Christ on, instituted by him. There are a few contenders who fit this criteria, and I settled on the Roman Catholic Church for several reasons. First, I felt a need to explore the religion of my ancestors. Following the Methodists and Presbyterians back, they had split off from the Roman Church. Second, my reading of the Church fathers supported Roman claims as I understood them. Third, it was the most readily accessible apostolic church in my area. So, in the Spring of 1983, I joined the Catholic Church. RCIA had not yet been formally instituted, and this was in Raymond Hunthausen’s Seattle diocese, so I received NO formation at all beyond a brief discussion with the student center priest and the request to find a Catholic sponsor. (My roommate was a Catholic, of the progressive “do whatever you want, sleep with whoever you want, as long as you participate in civil rights marches you’re OK” type. He was my sponsor, for which I am very grateful!).
The blessings flowed down upon me as a Catholic. As I learned what Catholic teaching was, I rejoiced in finding substantial food to grow with and rich traditions. Despite the progressive nuns praying to “God our Mother” and the looniness that often happens in campus ministries, I quickly became deeply involved in Catholic life. After being Catholic for a year, I started feeling like there was something I needed to be doing that I wasn’t doing, something not quite right. Was I experiencing a call to the Priesthood? That didn’t “feel” quite right. Maybe religious life? The idea of spending my life praying to and becoming intimate with God was very appealing. I read St. John of the Cross and St. Teresa of Avila, and tried to grow in prayer. I became familiar with the Liturgy of the Hours, and found great fruit in conforming my thoughts and prayers with those of the Church and the great saints. But instead of helping me feel at peace, the sense of something undone increased. Finally, after my Junior year of University, I felt I had to do something to resolve the issue. I had learned of the Pontifical University of St. Thomas in Rome (the Angelicum) through the Dominicans of the Western Province. I decided to drop out of University and take up studies at the Angelicum. God must protect the foolish, because when I showed up, unannounced and unanticipated, I was quickly able to take up residence in the Convitto San Thomaso (the student housing for the university) but also to sign up for classes in English. Living in Rome was wonderful, and the various churches and shrines astounded and attracted me, but the feeling of not being right, of needing to do something, did not go away or reveal its sources clearly to me. After a month, I was even more miserable spiritually than I had been in Seattle. I decided to return home. Even the beauty of the eternal City was no match for the despair I was feeling. I went to the Dominican Friar in charge of managing the Convitto and asked if I could have a refund, as I was returning home. The Friar, Fr. Fox, asked why, and when I told him, he proceeded to chew me out for being an idiot, and told me that if I had the sense to stand still long enough in one place to figure it out, he would help me. After thinking about it over night, I took Fr. Fox up on his offer. For the next 5 months, after finishing his work at the Vatican and in the University, Fr. Fox would spend an hour or two with me, helping me to pray, relax, meditate, calm my racing thoughts and get my heart ready to hear what God had to say. Finally one day, while I was praying in front of the Sacrament, Jesus told me what it was that I had been feeling. It was a pure grace. One moment I knew nothing, and the next I knew the answer in great detail and completeness. Like a light being turned on, or a switch being thrown- it was instantaneous. God was telling me He loved me. Because of this, He wanted me to give myself to Him completely, and He would tolerate no halfway compromises. I, on the other hand, for all my self assurance that I wanted intimacy with God, did not want this at all. Indeed, God showed me that what I was saying to Him was, “You can have my chastity, my obedience, my money, my time, but just LEAVE ME ALONE!!!!!” That was why I felt so incomplete, that there was something I needed to do. After that revelation, I have never felt that way again.
I wish that I had received that assurance of Love with gratitude and gone on to great deeds for my loving Savior, but the truth was something different. Shortly after this moment of revelation, I ran out of money. Decisions had to be made, and without the back pressure of that sense of something undone, there did not seem to be any more reason to pursue religious life or the priesthood. Also, I wrestled with the temptations of sexuality. I returned to Seattle and quickly fell into sexual sin. Instead of turning to the Church, I told myself I needed to get married. And now returns to the story that older sister in the friend’s house who had so floored me with her use of an argument from C.S. Lewis. I had not mentioned that she was very beautiful, but she was. I also did not mention that later we dated for a while, until she left for college, and that she was my first and greatest love. We had remained friends and correspondents over the years, and when I returned from Rome, it seemed the most natural and right thing to ask her to marry me. And she said yes.
But, she was a Lutheran, and had no desire to be Catholic. We knew that it was very important to be together in our marriage in the most important realm of religion. After much thought and some prayer, and without again discussing anything with the Church or with a priest, we decided to be Lutheran. It was difficult for me. The words of Lumen gentium were before me, that whomever knows that the Catholic Church is the Church and essential for salvation and rejects her, that person is lost. I immersed myself in Luther’s writings for comfort and to understand what I was getting myself into. To my relief Luther had a very Catholic mind, and I quickly was able to trust him. I became comfortable as a Lutheran, and we married.
It became clear after several years of marriage that we were not growing as Christians in the ELCA. God in his mercy sent us where we had not wanted to go by stationing me (I was in the Army at this time) in Augusta, GA. There I met an on fire Christian who was everything I wanted for my family. He was also a presbyterian in the PCA. I was put off by the “doctrines of grace” peculiar to Calvinism, especially limited atonement and reprobation. Confused, I turned to Luther for guidance, and found it in “The Bondage of the Will.” Luther was able to articulate a portrait of the exhaustive Sovereignty of God which at least opened the door to Calvinistic teachings. After my wife and I thought and prayed about it we joined the PCA. We blossomed under the teachings of presbyterianism, especially in the areas of being a godly husband and father. Scriptures that had seemed obscure now made much more sense in the light of God’s sovereignty. We were again moved by the Army to another posting, and became members of a PCA church there. Here the emphasis was more in the traditions of the covenanters, and we grew greatly in terms of being responsible in our faith to our children and community, but suffered from the dryness of Sundays with long meetings, 90 minute sermons, etc. While there we became acquainted with what would later be called a CREC church. The teaching there on the keeping of Sunday and worship were like a fresh Spring breeze. When I was able I left the Army and moved back to the NW to be near family, and to be with this CREC church. But the Spring breezes we felt through this church were actually from some place more substantial, someplace that far predated the founding of the CREC, the PCA, the ELCA or even the reformation. God in His mercy used these protestant bodies to bring my wife and myself back to His church, no doubt in the most direct way He could. As we absorbed the teachings at this church, and the deconstruction of the “truly reformed” type of religion, a vision of what I had lost started to appear. Every new insight was an echo of something I had heard before, and my wife heard it too. I began to feel a tug back to the Catholic Church. At first I resisted it and treated it as a temptation. But the blows came faster and hit harder and deeper, until it was clear where the truth lay. The completeness of what I had been taught was there, in the Catholic Church. It was no paper church to me- I had lived in it for years as a young Christian, and I knew what she was like, both good and bad. Now my wife too was willing to receive her, but had some serious struggles and reservations. I called my old helper from the Angelicum days, Fr. Fox, and in a response that is amazing in its self sacrifice, he flew over from Rome several times to talk with us and help her work through her issues. I had also contacted the Coming Home Network, and they had connected us with a loving Catholic couple who were able to be a real assistance to my wife. With our help and through participating in our discussions, our children became Catholic as well. We returned/ converted on the feast of Sts Peter and Paul 2003. The struggle never ends, and with children it takes on a different flavor. What I could shrug off in Seattle as a college student now took on a more sinister tone when I saw the latitudinarianism of most of the Catholic kids around me, and the indifference and ignorance of the local rather progressive parish. I am not willing to sacrifice even one of my children to these forces of destruction in the church, and so our return has not been to rest, but to arms. But there is also great peace an joy at being home, and being with Jesus again in His church. The OCDS has also helped me to come back to the Lord with the intimacy with which He has been calling me. God is truly good.Last edited on Tue May 8th, 2007 01:11 pm by DocJBB
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Talithacumi
Member
| Joined: | Sat Sep 30th, 2006 |
| Location: | Eastern Ohio, USA |
| Posts: | 267 |
| First Name: | Cheri | | Gender: | Female | | Faith History: | Cradle Catholic - Latin Rite |
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Posted: Tue May 8th, 2007 02:45 am |
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John,
Thanks for sharing with us your story! It's always surprising to me how many different ways and paths there are by which people come Home. Isn't it amazing how we can never quite escape the "Hound of Heaven"? And now you've been caught, and you seem ready to fight the good fight of faith! Onward, Christian Soldier!  Welcome! Hope to hear more from you.
JMJ
- Cheri
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“We do not want a Church that will move with the world; we want a Church that will move the world.”
- G.K. Chesterton
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