Salvation & Justification
We
Do Not Stand Alone
Todd von Kampen
From
the Editor
Marcus Grodi
Returning
Home
Rick Ricciardi
One
Saving Action
Dwight Longnecker
A
Voice From A Catholic Pulpit
Fr. Michael DeTemple, O.P.
How
ARE Catholics Saved?
Catechism
The
Early Church Fathers on Salvation
Chris Erickson
Did
Paul Teach Justification by Faith ALONE?
Robert Sungenis
Not
By Faith Alone
James Akin
Or
Is There Something Else?
Marcus Grodi
Justification
By Faith
Dr. William Marshner
Before
You Object...
Fr. Ray Ryland
Other Journals
Returning Home
By Rick Ricciardi
It is strangely ironic that as I begin to reconsider the events that led me back to the Roman Catholic Church, the words "I was raised Roman Catholic" come to mind. I wonder how many times over the course of twenty years I have said those words, usually at the beginning of a personal testimony or even during an introduction. I also wonder how many times I have been on the receiving end of those words.
In many of the Evangelical or Fundamentalist churches of today, more than 20 - 30% of the members or regular worshipers can say the words "I was raised Roman Catholic." At banquets or meetings, I recall many times sitting around a table, attempting to meet and learn about the other people sitting with me. Inevitably someone would say those words. Heads would start nodding seemingly everywhere, and the smiles would begin. Additional words weren’t required, because each of us understood.
We had escaped from a church that taught works for salvation, tradition over Scripture, and which had never told us about a personal relationship with our Lord. Each of us would say, "We never heard the Gospel until we began to attend …" such and such church.
Now after being away for over twenty years I understand what the Catholic Church truly teaches about works in relation to salvation. I understand not only the need for Tradition but also how it acts as the glue in the foundation of our faith. To my shame I am now aware how week after week for twenty-two years I had heard the Gospel read and preached at Mass, but I never listened to it… "They hear, but they do not understand." Lord, forgive me.
For most Protestant denominations, their specific or unique theological emphases have been formulated only over the past one hundred years, some more, many less. Usually each group was formed after splitting away from another group over a particular theological, doctrinal, biblical or moral issue that was debated and then either implemented or rejected. So often, at least it seems to me, each newly formed denominational group leaves something behind in the process. I think the Reformers would be shocked to see how the denominations they founded have evolved in their ever widening theologies.
Catholic New Testament theology covers nearly two thousand years. The consistency and depth of teaching within the Church should be something marveled, not criticized. Unfortunately today even in the Catholic Church herself we find priests, religious, lay teachers, and organizations who do not follow the teaching of the Church, which only leads to more confusion among lay Catholics as well as non-Catholics. Can there be any question as to why many lay Catholics don’t know their faith?
To Christians of other traditions, the Catholic Church, especially the Mass, seems strange or antiquated. It’s not until one takes the time to learn and begin to understand what the Church truly teaches that much of what is practiced, both in obedience to Sacred Tradition as well as in cultural Catholics’ devotions and customs, is based on what was delivered, taught and practiced in the first centuries of Apostolic Christianity. The Jewish roots of the early Christians can be clearly seen in these traditions.
On the other hand, most Protestant denominations have been established rather recently, with their own traditions being based on what their first generation Protestant leaders and members practiced.
The specific tradition that I recently left, the Assemblies of God, was formed in 1914. Most of the first generation have long since passed on, leaving the second generation to hold true to what was then established. The third and now fourth generations, many coming from other Christian traditions, are questioning why things are done the way they are. The second generation people are fighting to bring the denomination back to the roots they inherited, while the third and fourth generations want to change in ways that seem important to them and their families.
All of this has happened in this century. When you contrast the changes made in less than one century in this one new Christian tradition to the consistency following twenty centuries in the Catholic Church, it should make one pause.
Who would have thought fifty years ago that some mainline Protestant traditions would be considering, and in many cases accepting, abortion, same-sex marriages, and homosexual clergy?
Once again, the Catholic Church, in spite of the attempts of dissident groups whose motives are often suspect, has remained consistent in its call to all Christians to remain faithful to the faith and teaching that has been handed down, from generation to generation, for nearly two thousand years.
My Wandering Begins
At the age of 20-21, I began indulging in some heavy drinking, experimenting with drugs, and almost entered a marriage that would have proven disastrous. Why? I don’t know. God, however, was faithful, even though I most certainly wasn’t.
A string of circumstances led me to a Southern Baptist Church in Louisiana. Those circumstances became the bulk of my testimony whenever I would joyfully tell how I "became a Christian." Today as I look back, I am very grateful for how God worked in my life to open my heart to His love and grace, but now my conclusion is different: He saved me, but He saved me from me.
At this small Southern Baptist church I found people who cared for me, loved me, and shared their lives with me. Outside of my own family, I never realized people acted this way. Many nights I would be at one of their homes, sitting at the kitchen table asking questions about the Bible. They always had time for me.
There I discovered Jesus in a way that was totally different from what I had experienced as a Catholic, and I believe this is one reason why Catholics leave the Church. I don’t mean to over simplify this, but I think what draws many away is hearing clear, directive, confrontational preaching for the first time. Not a short homily demanding little or no response, but a thirty, forty-five, even sixty minute sermon, which fully develops a Scriptural text into a practical application that leads to a climax requiring a "Yes!" or a "No!" This is why, I believe, so many "born again" ex-Catholics say they had never heard the Gospel before. What they are really saying is, "I was never put in a position to say ‘yes’ before." At least this was true for me.
But there is another aspect, found in most evangelical churches, that is also important: the feeling of involvement. In the Southern Baptist church I began to attend, there was Sunday school followed by the morning service. In the evening there was another time of teaching called Training Union, followed by the evening service. On Wednesday there was mid-week service. On Thursday there was visitation to the people who had visited the church on Sunday or who recently had moved into the area. Throughout the week there were Bible studies and committee meetings. With all of this you begin to feel involved, to feel needed; that you are "somebody."
I have learned that the same opportunities for involvement have been there all along in most Catholic parishes. There are many things going on, ministries to be involved in, and therefore ways to feel like you have something to offer. But I wonder how many former Catholics, now so heavily involved in their new Protestant churches, made the same efforts to be involved in their former parishes? More than weekly Mass I mean. How many taught CCD, worked with the teens, college students, singles, young married couples, widows, converts, those who are grieving, those who are in need, etc.?
In April 1974, I became a Baptist, joining the church I had been attending. I preached my first service at a Youth Revival in June of that year. I remember working for days on that sermon and being so nervous when the day finally came. I arrived at the church early and sat anxiously in the first row. With my back turned to the congregation, I had no idea how many people were entering behind me. When it came time for me to preach, I approached the pulpit and turned to see a church absolutely packed. I had never seen the church that full before.
In spite of my heart pounding and my knees shaking, I began a one hour sermon that probably included every piece of Bible knowledge I had accumulated since April. Anything and everything I had ever heard was in that message. At the end, I gave an altar call and a teenage girl came forward and gave her life to Christ. It was one of the most exciting nights of my life and I knew I was where God wanted me.
While helping with the youth group, I met a young woman named Jeannie, and within months we knew God was calling us to be married. I discouraged any of my family from attending our December wedding. This of course was just another "hurt" in a long list of "hurts" that I would cause for my parents. The excuse I gave was that the wedding was in Louisiana, a long way from my parents’ home outside of Chicago. There were still six siblings living at home so it would have been very difficult and expensive for them to come.
But the real reason I persuaded them not to come was because I was embarrassed by them, not personally, but because they were Catholic. In my heart I truly wanted them to be there with me, especially my Mom and Dad, but I didn’t want to introduce them to my new church family. My anti-Catholic feelings were starting to emerge. I was beginning to enjoy my new zealousness and I didn’t want to be challenged by two Catholic Christians.
I enrolled in Bible College, and for the next few years, my anti-Catholic views, and at times hatred for the Catholic Church, were the dominant part of life. I had just enough knowledge of the Catholic Church to be considered an "expert" by many of my fellow Bible College students but not enough to be able to discern the errors that I was hearing about the Church.
From 1974 - 1985 I served in several Baptist Churches in Louisiana, Washington and California. I was always involved in lay ministry and church leadership. I served in pulpit ministry, preaching when the pastors were on vacation or ill. I also taught Sunday School classes as well as adult Bible studies.
When we moved to Arizona in 1985, my wife and I took the opportunity to join an Assembly of God (Pentecostal) church. We remained there until April 1997 when I finally resigned my positions as deacon, and Secretary/Treasurer of the Board of Directors.
My Heart Starts to Turn for Home
I think the beginning of my restless
ness with the Protestant form of worship—basically prayer, a greeting, singing, announcements, an offering, more singing, more prayer, a special song either by the choir or an individual or group, followed by a message and finally some opportunity to respond to the message—was the idea of "going to get something." If the songs weren’t the ones I liked it could ruin the whole service for me. Being a part of the leadership team, we always tried to make sure the emphasis was on worshipping God, regardless of how we felt. But so often it still came down to how we felt. I believe this is the source of the standard line, "I’m not being fed."
Without really knowing it, I was beginning to think there had to be a better way. I remember talking to the pastor, shortly before I announced I was leaving, and he admitted that he felt under much pressure; that he was carrying the service on his shoulders. He didn’t want it that way, but he felt like he was performing.
Then in the spring of 1996 my family began preparing for our first visit in ten years back to my home near Chicago. I am the oldest of nine children—six boys and three girls. Most of my brothers and sisters were small children when I left home at the age of nineteen, so not being there when they grew up, I felt I didn’t know them very well. The thought of seeing them again became an ever increasing problem. I felt so different in my new faith. I was the only one who had left home and I was the only one who wasn’t Catholic. My anxiety verged on paranoia, and over the years I always found excuses to avoid returning.
The reason for this particular trip home was for the wedding of my brother, Paul, to his fiancée, Katherine. I had missed many of my brothers’ and sisters’ weddings, mostly because of the paranoia, but this time my Dad insisted that all of his sons be in this wedding, so I agreed.
Paul and Katherine were graduates of Franciscan University in Steubenville, Ohio, where Paul had received an M.A. in Theology. I remember thinking, "What a sap! He spent all that money and time earning a degree in Catholic theology. I’ll bet they didn’t open the Bible once during the whole two years he was there." Paul mentioned this one professor he had who was a well-respected Scripture scholar named Dr. Scott Hahn, but it didn’t make any impression on me back then (though it certainly would later).
We arrived a few days before the wedding and of course everything was in chaos. I tried to have some time with Paul to discuss his education and to convince myself he was really a Christian. During our discussion the subject of Mary came up. We talked about the different doctrinal beliefs about Mary that Catholics must hold, and at first I thought he was kidding. This had to be a joke that he had been saving for months to spring on me. Then I realized he was serious. Thoughts flew through my mind. My brother isn’t a Christian! Two years at that school and he thinks Mary is equal to Jesus!
Little did I know that this discussion, which then led to anger, caused me to begin thinking again about the Catholic Church. At first the thoughts weren’t things I cared to share with anyone, but slowly over the days before the wedding, God began softening my heart.
As far as I was concerned, the wedding rehearsal was a disaster. I wouldn’t cooperate by bowing before the altar as I came down the aisle. I goofed off the whole time making jokes about everything the deacon was saying or trying to do. I was a total distraction to those around me. That was the first time I had been in a Catholic church for a long time and I thought it was all a joke.
The morning of the wedding was an exciting, beautiful day. I had gotten over all the fears and apprehension of seeing my brothers and sisters, not to mention relatives that I hadn’t seen in twenty years. I was even looking forward to seeing everyone and meeting with them at the reception afterwards.
We arrived at the Church and I began seeing people whom I never thought I’d see again. We laughed and told stories, amazed at how years could vanish in moments. We gathered in the church and waited for the bride to arrive.
I noticed that my brother, Don, was acting as if he wasn’t feeling well. He started to get anxious, for fear of disrupting the wedding, which made him feel worse. We tried to calm him down but he kept getting worse. I put my hands on his shoulders and prayed for a healing touch and calmness to come over him. It was the first time I was able to do "my thing" around all these Catholics.
Praying for my brother helped me to focus on the wedding, to think about God, and to make a commitment to Him that I would take the upcoming ceremony seriously. When Katherine arrived, the wedding began, and in a few minutes I would begin a journey that I never thought I would take. A journey back to the Roman Catholic Church.
My Journey Home
I was enjoying the wedding Mass, looking around and making eye contact with cousins who arrived late, who appeared just as excited to see me as I was to see them. I was feeling at home, very comfortable in a very strange place. When it came time for Communion, I had no intention of going forward to receive, but yet I sure wanted to. Being in the wedding party, I was sitting in the front row. To my surprise, after the Priest gave Communion to Paul and Katherine, he came straight to the wedding party in the front row. I was second, and was caught off guard. When the Priest came to me, obviously assuming that I was Catholic, he said, "The Body of Christ," and I instinctively said "Amen," and received the Host.
I knew (and know) that I should not have done that, but the moment I received the Host something happened in my heart—I instantly believed in the Real Presence of Jesus. It seemed so ‘right.’ Why did I ever doubt this? A hunger was birthed inside of me and a need to rediscover the Catholic Church began.
Without making a big announcement—"I am rethinking the Catholic position"—I began to read books and magazines, listen to tapes, anything I could find at my parent’s home. Eventually I found a copy of Pierced By A Sword, a novel by Bud Macfarlane, Jr., Director and Founder of the Mary Foundation in Ohio. The title was intriguing and the book cover surprised me. Here was a Catholic novel dealing with the end of this age, something I had become quite "informed" about as an Assembly of God Christian.
As I read it I thought, "But where’s the anti-Christ?" There was no mention of a temple being rebuilt or any talk about the rapture. There was a lot of talk about Mary, but what did she have to do with end times?
I also struggled with the novel’s main characters. How was I going to accept or believe that God might use characters who drank and smoked? Not just a little—a lot! Even the priest in the story drank and smoked and yet he was portrayed as a good priest. This was too much for my Assembly of God scruples to handle. "Christians don’t drink or smoke, and if they do, they sure don’t do it where they can be seen."
In Pierced By A Sword, the author intersperses information and statements from the many reported visitations or apparitions of Mary. He also slips in a lot of Catholic theology and philosophy. I kept saying, "Where is this guy coming up with this stuff?" I probably threw the novel down six times, each time saying something like, "I’ve got better things to do than read this."
But I finally became totally absorbed in the book. I couldn’t stop reading it. I was getting up early, staying up late, trying to have some quiet time or find a quiet place to finish this book. Nothing else mattered; I had to finish this book.
In the end it was a story of hope. It particularly helped me understand the Catholic teaching on the communion of saints, which in just a few months, would prove to be an unexpected comfort. I probably could have picked up any number of other books lying around, which also could have impacted my life. But God, who understands me better than I do myself, knew which one I needed to pick up and read.
Returning Home
If I had just read that book and left it at that, I would have returned to Arizona and never thought about becoming Catholic again. But my heart was driven to take another step. After our vacation I wrote to Bud Macfarlane Jr. to tell him about the impact of his novel on my life. In addition to an autographed copy of Pierced By A Sword, Bud sent me a copy of Surprised By Truth by Patrick Madrid, a book of testimonies of Protestants who had come home to the Catholic Church. This I devoured. I had no idea there were other Protestants who not only were thinking about becoming Catholic, but who actually had become Catholic.
One of the wonderful ways that God encouraged me during this difficult time was in the way people would make contact with me. I was reading Surprised By Truth, and happened to finish the chapter written by Marcus Grodi, the founder and president of the Coming Home Network International. The very next day when I returned from lunch and listened to my messages on my answering machine, there was a message from Marcus saying how Bud had given him my name. Even more than a great story, God used Pierced By A Sword to bring people like these Catholic brothers into my life. It started a chain of events that in many ways was miraculous.
Beginning in the Fall of 1996, Bud and Marcus became my support team by telephone, mail, or e-mail. Their wisdom, along with a ton of tapes by Scott Hahn and other great teachers, which I had purchased or borrowed and listened to multiple times, along with a great deal of research and prayer, eventually brought me to a crisis point. I had to announce my resignation and my return to the Catholic Church. If I did not, I was being disobedient.
One thought, I believe, really helped to speed up my return home. When I heard Jeff Cavins—a former Protestant pastor, and now host of the Life on the Rock program on the Eternal Word Television Network (EWTN)—speak about living a life of rebellion during his years away from the church of his youth, I knew exactly what he meant. Our stories were different but this mindset of rebellion, I believe, is true, not only for me, but for a whole generation of former Catholics.
I had been limited in my ministry, my relationships, my joy, because I was in rebellion. Once I understood this, accepted it, and began to experience true repentance, my joy began to return and my days away from the Catholic Church were numbered.
Jeannie and I began the Rite of Christian Initiation for Adults (RCIA) classes at our local Catholic parish in June 1997. On Saturday afternoon, August 9, I made a general confession—my first confession in at least twenty-five years. Then on Sunday, August 10, I received the Eucharist, legitimately.
On Saturday, November 22, 1997 I had the privilege of watching my wife and her RCIA class make a Profession of Faith, receive the Sacrament of Confirmation, and then First Holy Communion. We were now able to receive the sacraments together as husband and wife.
So much has happened in such a short time. There were many times during this process that I became discouraged and wanted to forget about it. "Do I really want to walk away from ministry which I have devoted years preparing for?" But each time I doubted, God would send someone, usually someone I didn’t know, often over the Internet, who just felt led to write me a letter sharing their story or to offer encouragement. For all of you who made contact with me, thank you. God has truly continued to bless my wife and me as we stepped out, leaving many years of ministry and friends behind, but filling our lives to overflowing with new friends, brothers and sisters in Christ.
I had the privilege of serving under some godly men during my years away from the Church. These men provided friendship, wisdom, and many wonderful memories. These were close friendships with men that I loved and still do. And each time I had to
say good-bye, I felt as if my heart was being torn out of my chest.
Today I have fallen in love with the Catholic Church. When I think back to the words, "I was raised Roman Catholic," I can only say, "Thanks Mom and Dad—I love you."
Some Thoughts on Salvation
As a Protestant I always knew exactly what I would say if I were asked, "Are you saved?" Since becoming a Roman Catholic, I have been anxiously awaiting the time a Protestant challenges me with that question. My plan was that I would recite the same old classic answer and challenge them to find something wrong with it. I would expect to see a confused look on their face followed by the question, "But aren’t you Catholic?" I would then go on to explain the whole truth about salvation.
But then I began to wonder if this was really the correct response. There is no doubt that salvation is a gift from God through the death and resurrection of His Son, our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. As a result of sin our relationship with Him was severed. We, as sinful people are not capable of renewing that relationship. But God, who loves us so much, sent His Son, to die for our sin.
Our salvation begins at the cross and is made possible by the resurrection. Catholic and non-Catholic Christians alike believe this truth and only the foolish will debate it.
But as a Catholic, should I miss the opportunity to include why I am Catholic when I answer the question, "Are you saved?" Can I separate the two?
When I was a Protestant, salvation was a term that meant different things to different people. Contrary to what many Catholics think, not all Protestants believe in "once saved always saved." It is true that many believe that after praying some kind of prayer—which involves admitting being a sinner in need of a Savior, accepting Jesus as the one who died on the cross, rose again three days later, and by his blood washed away your sin—you are now saved, once and for all.
But many believe that as a result of sin, you can and do loose your salvation. The process of returning to a state of being saved can be as simple as praying a prayer of forgiveness, to getting saved all over again.
The point being, even in the Protestant world, there is disagreement on what it means to be saved, what it takes to be saved and how one stays saved. This also leads to the reason there are thousands of distinct Protestant denominations, each using the same scripture verses, coming to different conclusions, but each claiming to be the ones who are most correct.
Having completed two years "back home" as a practicing Catholic, I find great relief not feeling the pressure to get people "saved." The responsibility of telling someone they are saved, just because they repeated a simple prayer that you had them say, is too great. I don’t mean to judge people, but I often wonder how many thousands, even millions of people are confident they are going to heaven because someone stopped them in a shopping mall, put a tract in their hand, and asked them if they would like to receive Jesus as their Savior. That five minute exchange is now the event in their life that "ensures" their eternity.
I can remember talking with people who came forward for salvation at the end of a worship service. I would always ask, "What do you want?" So often, their answer would be, "I want to be sure." I would ask, "Are you saved?" and usually, they would indicate they had prayed a salvation prayer at one time in their life. They had been told they were saved and going to heaven, but they didn’t "feel" it.
The usual comeback would be, "Well, that’s Satan trying to put doubt into your mind." Sometimes I think we give Satan too much credit, especially when it comes to areas we’re sloppy in.
Personally, I always believed that if a person didn’t feel saved, they weren’t. So I would always approach my time with them from that point of view. But, when I was through, I did what everyone else did. I led them in a sinner’s prayer, shook their hand, called them a brother or a sister, and then told them they were going to heaven.
At least if this occurred in the church, there would be follow-up by one of the pastors. I know many of the crusades try to have follow-up. That’s why they have the people who come forward to fill out cards—so that a church in the area can contact them and try to help them. I read once that after a Billy Graham crusade, 10% of the cards had false addresses on them. What kind of salvation is that? Your first act as a Christian is to lie about where you live? Yet, I’m sure these people left thinking they were saved and on the way to heaven.
When I was "saved" in the Baptist church in 1974, I wrote in my brand new King James Bible, "March 17." I could always look back on that day and say, "That was when I became a Christian."
But now that I am, once again, a Catholic, I realize that salvation is a whole lot more. I understand the words of Jesus, "If any man would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me" (Luke 9:23). Salvation is not, can not be, a one time experience. It is every day, day-by-day, the good times and the bad times.
I am thankful that I have a Church that teaches this and provides the Sacraments through which I receive the grace to be able to carry my cross. I am especially thankful that I can receive the Eucharist—the Body, Blood, Soul and Divinity of my Savior—the Sacrament in which He turned my heart years ago in my brother’s wedding and which today ever draws me closer to Him.
Rick and his wife Jeannie live in Mesa, Arizona where he works for Boeing on the Apache Helicopter Program. They have two grown children, James and JoAnna. After returning to the Catholic Church Rick started an apostolate called Returning Home with the purpose of helping Catholics return to the faith of their youth. Rick has been a guest on The Journey Home and Pillar of Truth television programs and has been interviewed on Catholic Family Radio. Rick can be reached at www.returninghome.com or rickricciardi@returninghome.com.
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