I suppose I began to suspect the Protestants were wrong, because I wanted the Catholics to be right
When I was about 12 and my Catholic friend took me with her to Mass when I was at her house for a weekend sleepover, I was subconsciously touched by the beauty of the Mass. I had never seen anything like it before, and although I was not necessarily excited when I went, something changed that day. I saw there were more churches other than Pentecostal; it was then when I found out what denomination we were of. I have a love for traditions, and the Catholic faith impressed me deeply. My mom knew my friend was Catholic and when I brought a brown scapular home, I was told to return it, as “we don’t worship Mary”. This opened my eyes to the rifts between Catholics and Protestants. With this, I began my journey of discovering the Christian Faith for myself. In my adolescence, I didn’t do much about it, but I was fascinated with Catholicism as it was so much more beautiful and solid to me than Pentecostalism.
Another thing was that I stopped going to the Pentecostal church services, because their emotional emphasis on the Holy Spirit made me scared. I was afraid I would fall down or start shaking like others I saw, and I didn’t want it to happen to me. Pentecostalism was a “ghostly” sort of faith where the spiritual was so strongly emphasised over doctrines and traditions that I felt I was not safe from spirits coming and going as they pleased. I was terrified of both the devil and the Holy Spirit and I felt that I had little control. I had a negative experience in 1999 when I was 15 and suffering from anxiety attacks. My mother was concerned for me and took me to a well-meaning pastor for “Baptism in the Holy Spirit”, so that my anxiety would go away. In the end, he tried an attempted exorcism of some sorts which made me scream the place down until he stopped. I was terrified, and it was after this I stopped going to church at all.
Years passed, I graduated from High school in 2002, had a nervous breakdown, and then recovered after three years of depression. Mom and her friends prayed a lot for me and I was so grateful to them. It was then I felt grateful to God for saving me from my deep depression, and wanted to go to church again. So I looked around for a church which would be more peaceful and traditional than the Pentecostals. Deep down I was curious about Catholicism ever since going to Mass with my friend, but I had not enough courage to go against what I was taught about them. I went to a Methodist church and then found my way to a High-Church Anglican parish six months later at the end of 2005. By this time I was drawn to the idea of being a nun, and Anglicans had nuns, as well as the traditional, liturgical worship I so loved. I began some traditional practices, like making the sign of the Cross, praying at set times and using Anglican prayer beads. It was there in the Anglican Church that I was baptised in April 2006 and my true Christian journey began; my faith became my own, not just a faith I had just because my parents had it.
With this, it was as if God felt I was ready to be slowly introduced to the Catholic Faith. At first I studied it secretly, because I was afraid of what my mother would say, but by this time I was an adult so she gave me freedom to make my own decisions. In the end, I was heading towards Rome, drawn by an irresistible force. I was afraid, but earnestly wanted to find out the Truth. So I read conversion stories and prayed a lot. Once I had the breakthrough I needed to convince me of Catholicism being right (the Marian doctrines, especially the Immaculate Conception were the hardest to accept with peace in my soul, due to the things I was told), I was not afraid anymore to “lose my soul” by becoming Catholic, because I saw I would only gain from converting. So I began visiting my parish in early 2007 and began with classes, and a year later I was home.
I hope this helps to make it clearer. Do feel free to ask if you are still confused…
God bless
Dolores
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