I’ve not converted but there is a good chance I will enter RCIA in the fall. For my story, I’m going to back up over forty years.
Born a cradle Baptist, my family was very involved in church and in my youth, we went to what was probably the perfect Baptist church. It wasn’t huge and it wasn’t tiny. They filled a 600 seat room twice on Sunday. Everyone seemed to know most everyone and the leadership was simply incredible.
After 21 years, the pastor, then 65 years old, wanted to retire and return to his home state and in fact, died and was buried there 14 months later.
Baptist churches are autonomous and everyone gets a vote on everything, including voting for the pastor. Half the church wanted the assistant pastor that was in place when the old pastor left and the other half wanted to hire outside. It’s not important which group won but nearly half the church left. It was so contentious, that the husband of one of my mother’s best friends, forbade her to even talk to my mother on the phone after they left the church. This trend continued and the church nearly became extinct. I was there three weeks ago when they voted for a new pastor, which by the way, was the youngest son of the pastor of my youth, and the vote was by active members over the age of 18. The vote for the new pastor was 41-0.
My parents, like a lot of baptists and frankly, a lot of protestants, believe that Catholics practiced idolatry. It’s nothing they made a big deal about but I knew what they thought. growing up, I had occasion to visit Catholic churches with friends, and I never heard anything there but the gospel. So from at least my teens, I was pretty sure that was a misunderstanding and I found the church more than a little intriguing. Filed all of this away in my mind.
About the time that the first split of our church happened, was probably right about the time of the year of three popes. I’m certainly not the only non-Catholic that was mesmerized by the way JPII represented the church and he played more than a little part in my coming to the Catholic Church. Filed that away.
The Cursillo movement started in the Catholic Church and eventually came to the protestant churches. My father was very involved. One of the friendships my father formed there was with a Catholic man. I mentioned to my father one day, I thought you believe that Catholics didn’t “get it”. His reply was, I did but Lynwood does get it. Filed that away.
I believed I was Baptist but couldn’t find a church in which I was happy. Add to that, I knew that with a staff retirement, the entire church might split in half. That was a huge fear in my mind. I tried other protestant denominations and wasn’t happy with them either. Tried a couple of “mega churches” and I’ll just say I didn’t like them. I struggle with trying to be charitable toward the “mega church” format.
I had always joked, that I would consider a Catholic church but it would probably kill my parents. One day, a few months after my father had passed and my mother had proceeded him by several years, my daughter’s choir concert was held in a Catholic church. I was awed by the beauty of the church. A few days later, I told my wife that I was considering visiting the church. She had no problems as she was, and still is, attending the local “mega church” and knew how I was adrift.
The first service was great. The reverence of worship was like nothing else. I kept returning and enjoying it. My mind wanted to know more so I tried to read the CCC online. I didn’t like the format so I was going to buy one. I emailed the director of adult education at the church to see if they had one for sale. He said, how about meeting with me and I’ll get you one. We met and talked. He gave me a copy of the CCC and let me know that inquiry classes were starting with the new year. Of course I wanted to do it and learn more.
At Christmas time, our grown son was home and we planned an unusual church schedule. I went to vigil services at the Catholic Church, on Sunday, a friend of mine was directing the singing at my old baptist church so we went there. Sunday afternoon, we went to my wife’s mega church. Then Christmas eve, we all went to the vigil mass service at my church. Three days, four services, three churches. I felt so out of place at the other two and longed to be spending that time in my church. That’s when I knew it was my church.
The church isn’t about a certain pastor, loud music, friends or anything else, it’s about worship. Calmly and reverently the spirit of the lord resides there and it nourishes my soul. There are some priests and deacons more gifted than others but even the least of them can’t botch the message that is spoken in my church.
You asked for a moment and I gave you too much. Frankly, this isn’t the whole story but it is a lot of it. If you made it this far, thanks. I needed to write it and I guess with that need, I need someone to read it.
Oh, and Mary is my paintron saint!
welcome home
