My Conversion to the Catholic Church: Part 3 Blessed be the Tie that Binds

PART 3: MY CONVERSION TO THE CATHOLIC CHURCH

{I’ve been busy sharing my conversion to the Catholic faith. May my story be an encouragement for those seeking not only unity in their divided marriage, but also the fullness of truth. This is Part Three of Three.}

Part One: The Backdrop

Part Two: A Dangerous Journey

(You are reading) Part Three: Blessed be the Tie that Binds

An unbelieving Husband…

I sat up. My tears immediately stopped. I knew. Yes, this is what God wanted. I didn’t understand. I didn’t want to do what He told me. Yet I was filled with a peace I had not known in the years. Peace had been so elusive since Husband had come into my life. Yet, against all odds, here it was in the one resolution to do what I thought I would never, could never do.

When Husband came in from the garage I told him I was going to be joining the Catholic Church. Knowing that sarcasm was the way I chose to hurt him most, he did not believe me.

The next day, I called up the nearest RCIA program (RCIA stands for Right of Christian Initiation for Adults and is the exploratory and learning process undertaken by those joining the Catholic fold). I told Husband when he came home from work. He still didn’t believe me.

That week, I made a trek to the biggest local library and checked out every.single.book on the Catholic faith. I lugged home 30 plus books, placed them around the house, and began reading. As Husband saw me pouring over book after book, he finally began to believe what I was telling him.

I threw myself headlong into learning about Catholicism. My heart had made the shift, yet my head was not in the game. It was truly to Holy Spirit giving me the burning desire to learn about the Catholic faith. Yet for all my ambition, I hoped that God was working in a hidden way. Maybe through all my learning I would finally be able to attack my husband’s faith with enough ammo that he would walk away from Catholicism. Maybe I would find something that would let me off the hook. I just knew that I needed to obey God. I knew He would work it out.

As I read through book after book, I began to find answers to questions I had carried for a long time. I also began finding answers to questions I never knew I had! I never was open enough to listen to Husband and the reasons for his faith, but as I sifted through these books, I turned to him with questions.

Even today, Husband will say he never handled our religious divisiveness well. But as I searched, learned, and began understanding the Catholic teachings, I found him an invaluable guide. I asked him tough questions. He could help me find scriptural references to doctrines I found difficult. His orthodoxy helped me understand the importance of Tradition and the right view of Catholicism. If he didn’t know the answer, he would find it for me.

In the fall, I began attending RCIA with Husband. My sponsor, a convert herself, was such a help and also such a Godly example of womanhood. Here was a Catholic who was actually animated by her faith. It was such a witness to me.

Losing my foundations…

As I read through innumerable books, the foundations of my faith that I once found so strong began crumbling away. I found that scripture as the sole rule of faith was unworkable. I realized the 20,000 plus protestant denominations were a result of divorcing the Bible from authority and tradition. Can’t find a denomination you like? Start a new one. If we do not follow a God-given authority, we become popes unto ourselves.

Presbyterianism, Methodism, Lutheranism… Browsing history, I see a starting date for each of these denominations. Some are nearly 500 years old, yes, but the Catholic Church was birthed at Pentecost 2,000 years ago. What happened in between? Where were the teachings of the apostles? Would God really abandon His flock for 1500 years of history?

How could I look at John 6 and ignore all the writings of the early church fathers on the True Presence?

It was as if God took a chisel and slowly chipped away all the bricks which upheld my faith. There was no longer any foundation for the faith that I had held since I was young.

I knew I was no longer Protestant. Yet, I struggled to call myself a Catholic.

Even saying the word “Catholic” felt wrong. It left a sour taste in my mouth and pricked my conscience. I had soaked up disdain for this backwards religion for years.

I felt like the cartoon character who runs off the cliff and then hangs in mid-air before realizing they are going to fall. I questioned my salvation. I feared that God would not catch me. I was at a place where no one could reach me. My family was behind me on the cliff. I could not return to them and my Protestant roots. I could no longer be in full communion with them. Husband lay on the other side of the gulf, yet I was not there yet. I had faith God would get me there, but I did not know how.

Sometimes the emotional strain of my inner struggle would well up within me. I felt so many times like I was be rent in two. Husband was always there to hold my hand, yet I felt utterly alone.

Coming home…

The day I was received into the Catholic Church.

I kept praying. I kept learning. We were going to Mass as a family. No more “Mommy Church” and “Daddy Church.” God began laying a new, stronger foundation for my faith.

Brick one…Apostolic Authority

Brick two…Scripture AND Tradition

Brick three…The Real Presence

Brick four…Theology of the Body

And so it went. Brick upon brick, layer upon layer. The process of building was painful at times. I had to use reason to fight against the very fabric of my being. Yet, over time, that foundation became my own. The foundation continued to grow and strengthen. Though I can’t point to a specific point in time, I finally reached the place where I could turn in full confidence to God and say..

Yes, God. I believe that the Catholic Church is the One, Holy, Catholic, and Apostolic Church. I accept this. Lord, I do not necessarily understand all the teachings, but I accept them. I take them as Your Word.

On February 27, 2011, nearly 5 years after our wedding day, I was confirmed in the Catholic faith. Husband and I were able to receive Holy Communion for the first time together. We experienced a deep feeling of God’s Providence and Love within that moment. We grasped hands as we prayed together after Communion. All the times where we had shuffled in the pews during communion time were over. We came together in an even deeper way as we received the Body and Blood of Our Lord Jesus Christ.

And God was more than generous with us. 6 days later, on March 5th, we welcomed “Jim” into the Catholic Church as he received Baptism. After Jim was raised from the Baptismal waters, the priest took the tiny baby in my arms and lowered him toward the font of life as well. Yes, God had been more than faithful. While I grew toward the Catholic faith, God had allowed a little child to grow inside of me. That second child is the child of my conversion. He is forever a sign of God’s promise, that if I follow His leading, He will be faithful.

The joy in my life was more than I could contain. The tears I cry now are no longer tears of pain, but of overwhelming gratefulness for God’s merciful love.

From then till now…

God continues to prove Himself faithful. He has blessed us with two more children and continues to deepen our marriage tie. While that time was just five short years ago, it seems like a whole other life.

I still notice those in the pew who do not go up to receive Communion with their spouse. My heart aches for them. I want so much to tell them my story. To tell them God wants them united. To tell them that it is possible.

While my conversion was brought about by my divided marriage, it was no less profound. God had to work in the deepest recesses of my soul to bring about the blessing.

God is faithful, loving, and mercy. Alleluia! Amen.