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I was born in 1978, the son of an evangelical United Methodist minister. Growing up, I remember having the Bible read to me and when I was able to read, was encouraged to do it myself. In the home, at Church, and in parish religious education, the importance of the Bible was always stressed. Before I went to my first day of Kindergarten, I had learned most of the great stories of the Scriptures, more than most people ten times my age. I look back and am very thankful my parents taught me those stories and encouraged me to read the Bible. Like a number of converts to Catholicism, my love of the Bible was a factor in becoming Catholic (where else, except in liturgical communities, is so much of the Bible read in church services?). In terms of worship, I grew up with typical rural Midwestern Methodism: 3 hymns, a small Scripture passage, a 30 minute sermon, and dismissal in time to get everyone to lunch with their families. I enjoyed worship and it had great meaning for me, but I was always drawn to the more ritualistic elements of it, such as the activities associated with Advent and Christmas: the traditions, the candles, the sense of waiting and mystery, and the idea that this was some how a special time. I didn't ask myself until later in life: why can't every week's worship and every season of the Church year have that same impact on me? As a young teen, I hit a spiritual "awkward phase" and embraced Protestant fundamentalism. I was sure that I was the world's foremost biblical expert and was convinced that if I could get any Jehovah's Witness in my house for five minutes, they'd renounce their ways when I hit them with Scripture! My fundamentalism grew more extreme and manifested itself in strong judgmentalism towards others. Eventually my parents, evangelical but not fundamentalist, asked me to cool it for a bit. My social and spiritual life benefited greatly! After I matured into a teenager, I grew out of fundamentalism, but unfortunately my faith was largely a shell. I attended church, but only because I was largely forced to (which made me all the more unhappy about faith). I still believed in God, but didn't pray or read my Bible. When I went to university after high school, I discovered something incredible: no one forced me to be a Christian. I stopped attending church and even became somewhat angry about Christianity. I developed a strong dislike for Christian fundamentalism (especially the political side) and looking back would've probably been best classified as a functional agnostic. I remember filling out a survey by Campus Crusade about the identity of Jesus and I checked"good teacher." I was officially a heathen, but was largely unconcerned. During this time, my sophomore year in university, I completely focused on my friends and social life to the neglect of anything spiritual. Although social activity is necessary and fun, I still had that "God shaped" hole in myself and rarely felt fulfilled or happy. This emptiness prodded me to open my mind to the value of faith and the summer before my junior year I started reading my Bible again. I also realized that not all Christians were angry fundamentalists (duh!); many were intelligent, genuine people concerned with serving God and humanity. As I went back to university that fall, I got involved with evangelical campus groups. Although the people were nice and sincere, I never quite fit in and I was constantly seeking to find my identity as a Christian. I knew I wanted to follow Jesus, but I wasn't exactly sure where it would be or how I would do it. For the time being I was an evangelical with reservations. Oddly enough, during this time, I went to a Catholic midnight mass. I, to this day, can't think of any rational reason that compelled me, who had never been to a Catholic service before (outside of a wedding), to attend a midnight Christmas eve mass. I believe it was the Holy Spirit nudging me, however gently, towards the Catholic Church. |
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I was really interested in theology and took every chance to learn more and discuss it with others. I often spent time on internet theology chats discussing and debating theology. Visiting an internet chat room is an eye opening experience. I saw every theological quirk from every religious sect known to man: anti-Trinitarians, binarians, messianics, Calvinists, Arminians, Sabbath keepers, end times speculators, etc. and etc. I was convinced they were wrong and showed them by scripture. Of course, they threw Scripture back at me! Most theology chats on those rooms were dueling scripture matches. The more I thought about it, the more I came to a realization that would forever chip away at my Protestant foundations: all these groups believed in the "Bible alone" and yet they all disagreed, sometimes wildly, even on essentials; many times they even held directly contradicting beliefs, all taken from the Bible alone!
Around this same time, I took a class on the early Church Fathers with a wonderful Orthodox professor. I also started reading many of the Fathers on my own. The first I ever read through completely was St. Justin Martyr. Some philosophers speak of "paradigm shifts," that is when your worldview makes a major change from which you can never return. Reading St. Justin marked the beginning of my paradigm shift from evangelicalism to Catholicism, even if the process took awhile (God's plans tend to do that).
What struck me most about reading Justin was how foreign his writings seemed. He used language that I didn't use and he spoke of topics that I had never engaged. Justin challenged many of my assumptions about theology and worship. I attended a "contemporary" praise and worship band type of church, yet Justin spoke of reading the Gospels at the service and doing weekly communion. I always thought baptism and communion were just rituals that had no real meaning (outside of empty symbol) that we did because Jesus told us to. For me, being "born again" was a personal salvation experience. Yet, St. Justin believed that baptism made one "born again" and that communion was where we partook of the Body and Blood of Christ! Not only was Justin Martyr a very early writer, only a hundred or so years after St. Paul, but he was willing to die for his faith. He was not only a very early writer, but proved his Christian Faith by giving his life: this gave him great credibility in my mind. Why didn't the churches and groups I attended believe and worship this way? It was a good question, one that many who prayerfully read the Church Fathers begin to ask themselves.
My academic interests took a different turn as well. I was reading the Church Fathers, but also studying the Classics, learning Greek, and studying art history. I was becoming more convinced that there was no place for me in my limited view of Christianity. For example,I loved the study of art history, yet my church had white walls and a stage. I began to discover the Church year and the Saints (via the less complete Anglican calendar) and was disappointed that my church had no interest in the Church year. I was also feeling drawn to communion, even dreaming about it. I had a spiritual hunger for it and wanted to take communion more often, yet my church only did it monthly.
Although my personal spiritual life was changing, my public life hadn't quite caught up. I was still involved in my local contemporary church and evangelical campus group. I would often share about my reading of the Church Fathers and my "discovery" of the Episcopal Book of Common Prayer (my introduction to formal praying) in the small group study meetings. My fellow evangelicals typically gave quaint, puzzled looks and moved on to the latest spiritual insight they had this week. They were honestly open and supportive, but it was totally out of their spiritual comfort zone. Heck, I could relate, it was new to me too! Some of the reactions to my newfound journey were humorous, like when I brought a New Jerusalem Bible to my church and one lady asked why it was so big. I told her it had the extra books and she responded "you know that's not God's word, right?" I didn't really answer, but I did know enough about the history of the deuterocanonical books to think her assumption was arrogant. It did get me wondering, though: who is she to tell anyone what is God's word? On those same lines, why were personal spiritual insights acceptable, but the writings of the early Church ignored? It was like the Holy Spirit couldn't say it to someone else; he had to say it to each of us individually or the message wasn't valid.
I visited Catholic and Orthodox Churches a few times during this seeking phase, but I still wasn't ready to completely abandon Protestantism. Honestly, given my Protestant upbringing and geographical prejudices, becoming Catholic was simply too radical a step. I wasn't sufficiently disposed yet. I did, however,visit an Episcopal Church my senior year of university (2000). I was amazed at what I saw: a beautiful liturgy that spoke of the Incarnation, weekly communion, and an emphasis on symbol and art in the service. I also thought that Episcopal theology was close to the early Church. I didn't know yet that the Episcopal Church, in spite of a now nearly non-existent Anglo-Catholic strain, was now primarily a mainline Protestant Church. Still, I learned a lot while in the Anglican Communion and met many wonderful people. But, as happened for many on the path to Rome, the Anglican Church, while a good holding place for those on the Catholic journey, just wasn't enough to satisfy my spiritual hunger. I needed the fullness of the Catholic Faith, but that part of the story will come later.
I felt called to teach, especially to bring the joy and transformation I experienced reading the Church Fathers to others. I decided to enroll in graduate school at Emory University, a Methodist seminary. I started attending Candler School of Theology in the autumn of 2000. I met many nice people, had great professors, and learned a lot, but also came face to face with Protestant liberalism. I avoided this like the plague (no feminist theology for me thanks) and stuck to classes on Church history, the Bible, and languages. I was blessed to have two great professors who taught me Church history (one a Catholic, one an Anglican). They both presented Church history as meaningful for today. They also introduced me to the idea of the continuity of Church history and that there was more to the Church than just the Patristic period (the first 600 years). While at Emory, I started to become more Catholic in my thought and I began to learn about and believe in the Real Presence, the veneration of the Blessed Virgin Mary, the intercession of the Saints, and other important doctrines. I was still an Anglican, but my studies and prayers were bringing me more slowly to Rome.
During my last year at Emory, I began to think God wanted me to serve as an Anglican priest. I went through the beginnings of the process and became excited about it, but always felt a little uneasy in the back of my mind, mainly because I was increasingly out of step with the Episcopal Church. I was advised by friends not to say too much during the ordination application process because people who talk too openly about their traditional beliefs get turned down. This should have been a major red flag, but I didn't worry about it. The questions I was asked by my Episcopal Diocese in seemed fair enough but what they didn't ask troubled me. Nowhere did they question what I believed in or my basic theology. I was accepted into the ordination process and attended seminary in the fall of 2003. I enjoyed my first quarter there and made some great friends. However, in spite of having very "high" ceremony, I noticed that Catholic theology seemed to be readily disposable. I was particularly upset at how strongly so called "inclusive language" had entered into the worship services and theological dialogue. The worship leaders would meticulously edit the liturgy to remove masculine references to God. There's nothing like a beautiful high liturgy with the processions and smells that doesn't use the word "Father" outside of the Lord's Prayer. I began to see it for what it was: an empty shell. Once we even did the "Great Litany," which was taken from the Episcopal "Enriching Our Worship" series. Nowhere was "Father" or "Lord" ever used. I urge American Episcopalians to look at these books: they are your liturgical future. Through seminary and the ordination process, I was finding out that I was an anomaly in the Episcopal Church and so were Catholic faith and order. You see, I believed strongly in Catholic theology and morality, not just high ceremonial, which put me outside of the Episcopal mainstream. One weekend while a seminarian, I went to a conservative Anglican gathering and one of the priests there compared the statement of the Catholic catechism on Scripture and the statement of the Episcopal Church. The difference was like a choice of a steak dinner with all the trimmings and bread and water. The Episcopal statement was minimalist to offend nobody, while the Catholic statement was beautiful and was saturated with meaning and truth. I suddenly was jealous of what the Catholic Church had to offer!
I was visiting Australia when Gene Robinson was elected "bishop." Everyone kept asking me what I thought of it and how it could happen (most people I know there are either Catholic or evangelical). Quite frankly I was embarrassed and could offer no excuse. I held out hope that the rest of the Anglican Church would do something about the Episcopal Church and all would be well. The Anglican primates (leaders of churches) issued a strong letter and the Episcopal Church thumbed its nose and ordained Robinson a "bishop" anyway. Incredibly, only a handful of people at seminary considered this to be a problem. Many even spoke about "homophobia" among the Africans. I couldn't believe it; I thought I was in a "catholic" Church. In spite of all the pretty catholic externals, suddenly Anglicanism's Protestant roots were showing. After Robinson's consecration, I started praying and announced my resignation from the ordination process to the Diocese. I could not be ordained in a church that was blatantly disregarding Scripture and Tradition.
At this point, I began praying to see where God wanted me. At first, I believed I should stay and fight and be on the ground level of something new and exciting in Anglicanism in North America. I joined a parish that was fighting and gladly associated with all the conservative reform groups and tried to fight the good fight. But, the more I prayed and read and studied the more I began to realize that maybe I was being led outside of Anglicanism. After all, the Anglican Church was a break-off of the Catholic Church. Was I going to join the break-off of a break-off? And where was the system of authority? What did Anglicans believe anyway? I was seeing the weaknesses that have driven so many previous Anglo-Catholics to Rome or Constantinople. While considering where I belonged, I visited a Catholic bookstore and was amazed at the number of books, certificates, gifts, and religious items. I remarked to my brother that if a person wanted it, the Church would be with him sacramentally and liturgically through every part of his life: birth, coming of age, crises, marriage, sickness, and death. I was impressed that the Catholic Church was truly universal, truly a community of believers, and that they had a history outside of the Reformation. Catholic history wasn't always pretty, but she always survived and thrived, even in times of turmoil. I had always asserted that I could be "catholic" as an Anglican and was riled when Catholics and Orthodox would point out my religion was founded by Henry VIII. In spite of Anglican apologetic efforts, the more I read of the early Anglicans, the more I had to honestly face up to the fact that they were Protestants and they proudly admitted it. Even though many Anglicans were and are of a Catholic strain, it was not realistic to speak of the Anglican Communion as a Catholic Church.
Ever since I had become Anglican, I almost always had consulted Catholic sources on morality and theology. I had always admired the Catholic Church's strong stand on moral issues mixed with a pastoral sensitivity to those who are tempted to sin. I always trusted what the Catholic Church had to say about an issue. To the contrary, I pretty much knew I could ignore any statement coming out of the meetings of my own bishops. That's hardly a formula for success. I felt that the Protestant churches had been too willing to capitulate to the spirit of the age. Like Chesterton, I wanted a Church that was not only right when the world was right, but was right when the world was wrong. I picked up a book Surprised By Truth a collection of stories by former Protestants who had become Catholic. They experienced many of the same issues I had with Protestantism: the divisions, the failure of sola scriptura, the lack of roots, etc. What really got me thinking, though, were the stories that mentioned people who converted when in a crisis, like a sick or dying loved one. That hit a nerve with me. Although it's silly, I had always speculated that if I ever became sick, I would join the Catholic Church immediately because I would want the prayers of the Saints and the Sacraments. This helped me realize that I truly belonged in the Catholic Church and it was ridiculous and perilous to my soul to believe in the Church and only join if I happened to get sick! Deep down I knew that only Catholicism had what I needed.
After reading Surprised by Truth, I decided that I would pray even harder about where God wanted me. Previously, I had held out hope for Anglican ordination through an alternative route, but now I even considered that God may be calling me to a Church where I couldn't be ordained (I know I'm called to marriage). Several of my friends also converted to the Catholic Church at this time and I was amazed how that made me feel. I was actually jealous because they had joined the Catholic Church. They had what I truly wanted. I started to wonder what was keeping me from becoming Catholic, especially when I start getting jealous of Catholic friends! I believe it was largely pride.
I had owned a Catholic catechism for years and started reading it all the way through. I found that Catholic theology was spiritually and theologically satisfying. I had already known a lot of it, but read about teachings I had"trouble" with like the birth control, the Immaculate Conception, and Papal Infallibility. This helped me realize how Protestantism had influenced me all these years even as a "catholic" Anglican. The "trouble" I had with certain doctrines of the Church was no different than someone who had "trouble" with traditional teaching on gay marriage or the Trinity. Like them, I was judging the Church instead of submitting to her. I realized the level of pride I possessed. I considered myself a "catholic" yet threw out anything that didn't fit with my own personal view. How protestant of this "catholic!" I was no different than the various factions in that chat room I visited several years ago. I had always claimed a love of the Catholic Faith, yet was still in rebellion against it (even if in my mind less so than others)! Besides,I was worn out from "protesting," tired of a "do it yourself" Christianity, tired of all the infighting not only between other churches, but even within churches. At last, my Protestant foundation of individual judgment and authority was finally slipping away. I was ready to submit to the judgment of the Church and believe the faith once delivered built upon the rock of Peter.
I can't remember the exact moment I decided to submit to the Catholic faith; it was more of a process than an instant event. I talked to my Episcopal rector and friend about my decision and then contacted the local Catholic priest and told him I wanted to join. I was nervous. It was a big step likely to meet with disapproval from family (it actually didn't) and friends in my strongly evangelical geographical area. But, I didn't care; I was ready to submit to Christ's Church,be forgiven in the confessional, be confirmed as a warrior for Christ and receive the Body and Blood of our Lord.
After meeting with the priest and discussing several issues (and finishing reading the catechism), I eventually made my first confession, was received and confirmed,and took first Holy Communion on August 14th, 2004. The only feeling I could express was joy. Nothing could have wiped the smile from my face! I was so excited that at last I was in the Church with the Saints I had read nearly 6 years ago (I took St. Justin's name at confirmation). I possessed the full deposit of the Faith and had access to the Sacraments. I had always prayed the rosary, novenas, etc. outside of the Church and now I could at last receive the spiritual benefits. I was no longer like an outsider looking in at a beautiful banquet but was finally at the table with the Church militant, suffering, and triumphant.
Several years later, I still have the same joy in my heart. The Catholic faith is not always easy, but that is one of the things that attracted me to it. My spiritual life no longer requires self-regulation, but I am accountable to God and the Church in confession. Rather than being a burden, it is freeing to know that I'm forgiven and on the path (however long) towards holiness. For the first time I'm tackling habitual sins and I'm not doing it alone, but have the prayers of the Saints, the Sacraments, the apostolates, and the time tested prayers of the Church. I've also found that since I'm Catholic, I'm able to put many of the debates going on in the world in perspective. Although I root, support, and pray for our separated brothers and sisters working to uphold traditional theology and morality in their own churches (esp. those in the Anglican Communion), I am in a Church that stands for timeless Truths and there is great comfort to be in the ark during the tempest. That is an amazing assurance, especially as we witness the breakdown of Western mainline Protestantism. I know that many in the Catholic Church support the same heresies as the liberal Protestants; in addition we have our share of problems. The sex abuse crisis was simply unacceptable; we have very prominent dissenters; we don't sing very well, (insert your complaint here) etc. However, in spite of all these problems, associated with sinful humanity, the Catholic Church still has the Magisterium, which boldly speaks God's Truth and calls all of us to live it. A rogue priest or dissenting nun may create problems, but they can never speak for the Church. Praise God for that!
I remember a particularly bad year at university and wanting to come home more than anything. I had never really appreciated how great my family was until that moment. It felt great to be home. That is how I feel after becoming Catholic: at last, after years of wandering, I'm finally home. My journey as far from over; in fact it's only beginning, praise God! But no matter what path God may take me down, wherever I end up and whatever I do, I know that spiritually I'll always be home.
Jonathan was recently interviewed for Franciscan Radio about his conversion to Catholicism. Have a listen!
Updated 2/06/2005