The Rushing Rapids and Comforting Stream: My Conversion Story

I grew up Baptist in what can be described as a typical Texas Baptist Church, and my mom always made it a point to take me to church. When I was in first grade, a revival preacher came and described the horrors of hell awaiting those who are not friends with Jesus. He told the congregation that if you ask Jesus into your heart, you will be saved. That night I went home, and prayed at my bedroom window, asking Jesus to come into my heart and save me. I didn’t tell my parents about this because my dad didn’t really go to church, and my mom believed that religion was meant to be very personal. (Talking with my parents about anything religious has always been very awkward.)

Later, in fourth grade, my mom took my sister and I to talk to the children’s minister about salvation. She led us in a repeat-after-me prayer, and told us to get baptized. As Baptists, we believed that baptism should follow a conversion experience, and this conversation with the children’s minister qualified as such an experience. I complained to my mom for taking me to talk to the children’s minister, and I didn’t understand why I needed to “walk down the isle” to request baptism. After all, I thought Jesus was already my friend, I had prayed the prayer at my window. I waited a few Sundays to walk down the aisle because I was very nervous about standing in front of all those people. Finally, on Easter Sunday, I gathered my courage and my sister and went to the front together. We were put on the baptism schedule and would be baptized in October.

I continued to go the church and became highly involved in all the activities, choir, GAs, Sunday School. I loved participating in church as a child, and I loved the huge stain glass window at the front of our church depicting Jesus making the sign of blessing (though I didn’t know that’s what it was at the time) and the parable of the sower. In seventh grade I was told to go to youth group, and I began to strongly dislike going to church. I was a fat, awkward girl, and the people in youth group were the popular kids in my small city community. I had very few friends there, and for the next five years I would ask to skip church or go to another church. My mom forced me to continue going, but I started to look for answers outside my church.

By high school, I was very doubtful about the merits of Christianity and was on the verge of becoming an agnostic. Many of my friends described themselves as atheists, agnostics, and neo-pagans, and we often had conversations about religion. By the grace of God, I held on to my Christianity despite being led away intellectually. Then I discovered Calvinism.

When I became a Calvinist my last year of high school, I had a definite intellectual conversion based on various proof texts and logic. I was a very ardent defender of double predestination, and used John-Calvin-style rhetoric to make-fun of the "Romanists" and "Papists."

Two years ago I was required to read an encyclical by Pope John Paul II for a scholars group. This was the first recent Catholic work I had read. In the past I had read some Augustine and a little Aquinas, and like R.C. Sproul, I tried to make them into Calvinists.

Anyway, after reading Fides et Ratio, I realized that I could find nothing theologically objectionable in that work. It opened my mind to the Catholic Church.

When my grandfather died 2 months later, I went to visit my Dad's side of the family for the funeral. I had to leave before the rest of the family to return to college, and so I decided to have one last word with my grandmother. I went into her room where she was sitting on the bed. She started crying on my shoulder, and I began to cry with her. During this time, I looked up and saw her rosary hanging from her bed-post. (My grandmother was Catholic, and my Dad was raised Catholic.) The image of Christ on the crucifix prompted me to say a prayer for my grandfather's eternal rest. This seemed natural, and I only realized later that it was a very Catholic thing to do.

About 8 months after that, I attended a conference at Notre Dame where I attended my first Catholic Mass at the Basilica of the Sacred Heart. I had already been finding myself drawn to liturgy, and I found this mass to be very beautiful. At this time thoughts of conversion never entered my mind.

A month after this conference, my university hosted a conference on Global Christianity in a New Millennium. I was picked to host a visiting professor, and despite my busy schedule, I managed to attend several lectures. The professor I hosted gave a lecture in which he briefly mentioned that the Church needs to be united in order to have a lasting global impact on issues of social justice. This passing remark caused me to think about Church unity and begin to seriously consider the claims of Catholicism.

At this same conference, I came in contact with a friend I had met at Notre Dame. He was a Catholic, and on the last night of the conference, we began debating Sola Scriptura. He asked me what was "the pillar and foundation of truth." In typical Protestant fashion I replied, "The Bible." He told me to find that in the Bible, and I took up this challenge. I realized that the Bible said the pillar and foundation of truth was the Church.

By this point, my stance on Calvinism had already become more nuanced as I began understanding Calvin (he can be contradictory), and Augustine (he didn't believe in justification by faith alone) in a new way. However, I was not ready to become Catholic, and I held firm to "Limited Atonement." (It was always my favorite part of TULIP.) Debates with my Catholic friend continued.

Here enters Advent in the Church Season as my semester was drawing to a close. During Advent I decided to study Mary, the Mother of God. I figured this was an appropriate way to lead up to Christmas, and considered it in line with the Reformed tradition. (Calvin and Luther regarded Mary quite favorably.)

I had also taken up running 2.5 to 5 miles each day because running helped me clear my mind of all these new issues swarming inside my head. One day, when I came back from running, I decided to pray, and I asked God to lead me into truth and to calm my anxiousness about the questions I had. I fell asleep while praying, and had a dream in which I was running hard and fast, not as if escaping something, but as if running to something. I stopped running when I ran into a field of flowers. I laid down in the flowers, and a profound sense of peace fell over me while a bright light engulfed my entire surroundings. The peace continued when I awoke. It was a powerful dream, such as I had never had before. At the time, I took it to mean that there would be peace at the end of my exploration.

In mid-December, the Catholic friend who I had been debating, Scotty, asked me out to lunch him. It was clear that he was becoming rather fond of me. I went to lunch with him, but began panicking later because the last thing I wanted was to get into a relationship with a Catholic. I consulted my best friend, Holly, about this, and she encouraged me to go ahead. She reminded me that I had often said that Catholics were Christians and had often expressed admiration of certain Catholic practices.

Ironically enough, dating Scotty caused me to become more closed to the Catholic Church. It was a huge pride issue because I considered myself a "strong woman," and I didn't want people thinking I was becoming Catholic for a guy. At the same time, I knew I would get into trouble with my Presbyterian church and college group simply for dating Scotty. After all, one should only date potential marriage prospects, and the Westminster Confession states, “It is lawful for all sorts of people to marry who are able with judgment to give their consent. Yet it is the duty of Christians to marry only in the Lord. And, therefore, such as profess the true reformed religion should not marry with infidels, Papists, or other idolaters: neither should such as are godly be unequally yoked, by marrying with such as are notoriously wicked in their life, or maintain damnable heresies.” (Ch. 24, sec. III). I told Scotty about this, and we discussed the Reformation and the tragedy of Reformation for splitting the Church. We cried together over these divisions among Christians.

I decide to continue dating Scotty. However, I had reached a dilemma. As a Presbyterian, in a conservative denomination, I was supposed to believe the Westminster Confession. After all, this laid forth our doctrines of faith, and I had always strongly affirmed the need for such confessional statements for creating unity within the church. Because I didn’t believe that “Papists” were idolaters I had a different understanding of predestination and perseverance, how could I remain Presbyterian? Would this be honest? It was now time to go home for Christmas break. Over Christmas break, I picked up my theological and studies in earnest. While at home, I decided to find out the type of flower in my dream. I looked in the Audubon Flower Guide book and discover that the blue flowers in the middle of field were unmistakably periwinkles, and the white flowers on edges of the field were white lilies. I told Scotty this one night on the phone, and he told me he had an idea of what it meant but didn't want to tell me. I decided it must mean something Catholic and looked up flower imagery. Sure enough, white lilies are the traditional Marian symbol, and periwinkles represent Mary's virginity.

I didn't know what to do with this discovery, so I went running. I ran six miles in thirty-degree weather, and exhausted, decided to begin reviewing all my notes from my RUF Bible Studies to put the proof texts for Calvinism in context. I had been taking Greek, and decided to consult the Greek where I could. As I began this venture I realized that the verses were not adding up as they once did.

That night I had another dream in which I was reading a huge illumined Bible. The Lord's Prayer began glowing off the page, and the words "give us this day our daily bread" were in bold writing. The pages turned, and John 6 appeared. Verse 35 became illumined, and I read the words “I am the bread of life.” The Bible became larger as I heard the words "this is my body." I woke up knowing that this was a special dream. At the same time, this was very weird because I had not begun to consider the Eucharist in Catholic teaching. I decided to ask Scotty if I could go to mass with him sometime.

It's important to remember at this point that I didn't think my dreams were authoritative in any way. I was a strict cessastionist when it came to things like this, and I still held on to a very intellectual version of Christianity. I was actually angry and frustrated that these dreams could be called "Catholic."

When I came back to school during the Spring semester, word spread that Scotty and I were dating. This was very bad because I was known as the "campus Calvinist," and everyone knew that he converted to Catholicism while at school. Scotty had often debated other Calvinists in RUF, so our being in a relationship quickly spread, (as gossip like this tends to proliferate rapidly at Christian universities).

Scotty and I went to mass on Saturdays and my Presbyterian church on Sundays. Even though I couldn't take the Eucharist at his church, and he couldn't take communion at mine, we both enjoyed this arrangement. Around mid-February, some articles I had written on my blog about Mary during Advent were passed along to some of the Presbyterian elders. The campus minister contacted me to schedule a meeting to discuss "what was going on in my life." I knew this meeting, to take place a week later, would be about Scotty and about what I had written.

I decided to go running. That night I prayed for the unity of the Church and to do what was right. Scotty meant a lot to me, but I didn't want our relationship to be an issue with my church. That night, I had a very powerful dream in which standing on a dusty hill. I calmly asked the question, "At what price love?" Suddenly before me, I saw Jesus on the cross. It was a split second vision, and I awoke short of breath, trying to recall the image. It was 5:00am, and I began crying, recalling how dirty and in pain Jesus appeared.

I had this dream on a Tuesday, and the next Saturday at mass, the priest described Christ's sacrifice. He closed his homily with the words "This is the price of love." It was at this point, I realized that I should stop running from the Church. Christ was in the Catholic Church, and I needed to be there.

It was really emotional for me at the time because I had a hard time being able to explain to people why I was becoming Catholic. God used this to break my pride in my own intellectualism, and to help me trust more in Him and in His body, the Church. Though intellectual issues were involved with my conversion, I would never have decided to become Catholic if the Holy Spirit did not draw me there in such unexpected ways.

One year later, Scotty and I are now engaged and will receive the Sacrament of Holy Matrimony on May 19. He has been a source of comfort and help, having already gone through the conversion process himself. Holly joined me on my journey to the Church, and our friendship has deepened greatly. The conversations we have had together have helped me greatly, and she's been a source of great inspiration and encouragement. We are taking RCIA together. Though, I have lost some friends since deciding to become Catholic, my friendships with those closes to me have greatly deepened. Although, I can no longer run 6 miles without stopping, I am trying to get back into running this semester to stay in shape. My family is still struggling with my decision to become Catholic, and I continue to pray for understanding from them. I especially pray that my dad will return to the Church he left while in college. My journey continues, and I look forward with great anticipation to the day I am in full communion with the Catholic Church and can receive the Body and Blood of Christ in the Eucharist.