I'm Coming Home: My Journey to Catholicism

This Blog post will be about my journey, from reluctant and un-(or should I say mis-) informed protestant to soon-to-be Catholic, and the emotional, mental and spiritual tribulations which arose.
I will also address a few misconceptions of the Catholic faith in hopes of clarification for those who are willing to listen.

Firstly, Let me tell you my journey.
Full disclosure, everything written here is about my personal experience and independent study of the catholic faith, also, it is rather long. 
you've been warned.

My journey as a protestant:
I was born into an assembly of God church and at the age of 11, my family began attending a Cumberland Presbyterian church. We remained there. at the age of 14, my mind began to question everything. I was in a public High school, after years of home schooling, and my life had become saturated with people of all different spiritual walks. By 15, I had scene the joy of the Lord in others and sought out a way to acquire a spirit on fire for God.  I was baptized in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit on August 3rd of 2011. Through the remainder of high school, I led a "Youth Alive" group, actively participated in Apologetic classes and Doctrine of Man studies, by Paul Washer, taught at a local Southern Baptist Church. I also filled my bible with highlighter marks, pen scribbles, drawings, questions, references, dates, sticky notes and more. I January 1-5th of 2013 (my senior year), I attended the Passion Conference in Atlanta, GA (keep this conference in your back pocket, I'll come back to it). I was on fire for the Lord and I led myself to believe that I had it all figured out, when it came to the direction God had set for my life.

Then college hit.

I asked the question, "Why do I believe this?"

Why am I identifying as a Cumberland Presbyterian? 
Why am I involved with the southern baptist ministry on campus?

I had to find the truth.

Searching for the "True Church" in the protestant faith: 
I began researching further into the foundational beliefs of the Cumberland Presbyterian Church, then the Southern Baptist, then Baptist, Methodist, Lutheran, and more. After 3 semesters, and many different church visits, I found myself attending a Reformed Anglican church with a friend of mine in march of 2015. This was my first encounter with anything close to Catholicism. I sat in the back pew and followed along in their Common Book of Prayer. I watched as people knelt, sat, stood, and bowed for different portions of the service. I found the prayers beautiful and tightly bound by scripture. I watched as the priest would prepare communion for the congregation and I truly felt touched by the way this group of people worshiped.

"Why is this service different from a Presbyterian or baptist service?"
"They are so different, surely, one of them must be more right."
"Why is each Protestant church different?"

I searched deeper. I looked at church history and was incredibly intrigued by the reformation (a concept often overlooked by basic education and students). In 1517, the protestant reformation formally began with Martin Luther's 95 theses being posted on the Wittenburg Cathedral. In 1520, Luther wrote much and denied the authority of the pope to interpret or confirm the interpretation of the bible. from then on, there were executions, protests, and more which led to the birth of the Church of England, the Jesuit Order, Lutherans, and more. Different protestant denominations continue to arise and claim to have it all figured out.

This made me think of my church history. Cumberland Presbyterians were founded on February 4th 1810. "my church has only been around for a little over two hundred years?"  I continued to look at other churches and their history, then wondered, "The Catholic Church must have something right after being around for so long and surviving so much trials and tribulations."

I let that thought linger in the back of my mind as I gathered small bits of information. I feared the Catholic Church. It was unknown territory.

"Those are the people that Worship Mary and pray to saints" 
"They don't actually pray to God directly" 
"They can't be Christian!"
"I don't belong there."

I prayed that God would help me to find his "True Church" time and time again. I wanted so badly to figure it out, because I was honestly becoming frustrated and discouraged. I questioned my faith on many occasions and felt lost.

Finding the Catholics:
At the end of August of 2015, Without prior knowledge of his religious affiliations, I met and went on a date with a Catholic man (Bret). It went well. Turns out, he was a student at my university and invited me to the Catholic Student Organization (CSO) House on campus. I was nervous.

"I'm a protestant."
"I don't belong there."
"What am I getting myself into"

I agreed to tag along.

At the CSO, I met the people that were necessary so I could learn more about the Catholic faith. I had many conversations with the campus minister, priest, missionaries, and students. they were always available when I needed them.
Before long, Bret tricked (more of a "right place at the right time" scenario) me into my first mass at the CSO house.
This was a small service, like any college campus ministry would hold. It was simple and concise.
I was interested to see how a proper and fully equipped parish would hold mass.
I went to St. Michael's on Summer Ave with Bret and his family.
I fell in love.
The service was stunningly rooted in scripture. From the acts of reverence, to the incense, to the presentation of Christ, to the prayers, I saw scripture everywhere!
I kept thinking "Play it cool Ruth."
But my heart was screaming "I know that psalm! I know why you have a profession of faith, greetings of peace, memorial acclamations,etc..." 

"Ok Ruth, this changes things, but don't let your emotions get caught up and make a hasty decision. you've got to think this through. You've got to KNOW that this is the true church."

I was determined to learn all I could. I needed to know if this was where my Father was calling me to be. soon after that mass, I was meeting one-on-one with one of the missionaries each week to answer my questions about the Catholic faith, attending a bible study, and RCIA (the Rite of Christian Initiation of Adults) classes at a local Parish.

I was completely consuming every bit of information I could find and researching it to be sure that what I was being told was truth.

I was finding answers that were firmly grounded within scripture.
I was falling deeper and deeper in love with the Mass and learning to love my Father in a more intimate and satisfying way.
Throughout my journey, I found overwhelming scriptural evidence that led me to slowly lose grip of things I had always believed to be true, sola scriptura, communion as symbolic, and more.
Even as I gained this new knowledge, I still identified as Protestant and was not prepared to become Catholic.

Adoration:
I was able to see the Beauty of God, His attributes, and the incomparable love He has for His children at the renewal of our covenant with Him at each mass,
But I was struggling to feel my Father.

"If this is your church, where are you?"

I found Eucharistic adoration.
"I found You."

For those of you who are not familiar with adoration, It is the presentation of the Eucharist in a space that is for silent prayer, meditation, and contemplation. you can learn more Here.

I spent hours upon hours in Eucharistic adoration praying for the Lord to reveal the truth to me. I prayed for understanding, willingness to listen even if I did not like what He was telling me.

It was as if I wanted to fully fall on love with the Catholic Church, but I was afraid and trying so hard to guard my heart. I was hesitant. I wanted to know for sure
I still had doubts.

Christmas Eve:
Everything Changed one evening when I returned to my parents' Cumberland Presbyterian church for Christmas Eve service. At that service, I sat and watched the pastor, a dear friend, prepare the congregation to receive communion. As I watched him break the hawaiin sweet bread and present the grape juice, I was uncomfortably trying to justify it, but continued to remember John 6:22-70 and the presentation of Christ's Body. I could not ignore the truth that I had discovered.

 "This isn't right"

The pastor called the congregation to the table of the Lord. I sat and watched my church family receive communion, when it cam time for me to join them, I had an overwhelming and distinct understanding:

"This Is not for you anymore."

I remained in my pew and in that moment, realized that by not partaking in a communion I had received for 10 years, I had separated myself from my protestant faith, my church family, and my family and friends. My foundational beliefs were different.
I was overwhelmed and confused.

Student Leadership Summit:
 January 1st of 2016 came quickly and I found myself on a bus with many other catholic college students, heading to Dallas, TX for a Catholic Conference.
I knew that this trip would change me.
It would be a turning point in my faith. 
I was incredibly excited, but incredibly fearful as well. I was trying so hard to hide my fear and uncertainty from my peers.

Throughout the first two days, I was attempting to hide my frustration and confusion.
I couldn't help but remember that 3 years prior, to the day, I had been at a massive Protestant conference, Passion 2013. at the time, I thought I had my life figured out. I thought I knew exactly where the Lord was leading me. I thought I was home.
I wasn't so sure anymore.
I felt as if I had been led on to believe I was home, only to be turned around because I was missing vital information. I felt misplaced.

"Why would you allow me to fall in love with you within the Protestant church, if you were just going to take it away?"
"Why would you give me a home only to force me out of it?" 

I was upset.
I was angry.
I was hurt.

That evening, I planned to skip the prayer hour before mass in the morning. I was tired, confused, frustrated, and simply did not feel like putting in the effort.
I set my alarm for 8:30 am.

My alarm went off at 7 am.
Then at 7:15.
I figured someone was trying to tell me something.
"Ok. Ok. I get it. I'm going"  

 I got up and went to prayer.
"Daddy, I'm here. I was going to sleep through adoration, but you must have something very important to say to me...
"Father, am I doing the right thing by pursuing Catholicism? Is this where you desire me to be? Really, you have led me on such a roller coaster. I feel misled when I think of the years I spent falling in love with your beautiful spirit, as presented by the protestant faith. I feel as if you withheld your beautiful sacraments from me...
"I'm struggling to find any words Daddy. I'm sitting here, but I don't know what to say...
"Maybe I should just listen."

At that point, I opened my bible to Ephesians 3:14-21 because it was the first Lectio Divina in the 40 day challenge that each of the students were given. 
I was shocked.
This is the exact same verse that was used 3 years ago, to the day, at the Passion conference in Atlanta, GA.  
The exact same verse.

It reads:
¹⁴ For this reason I kneel before the Father, ¹⁵ from whom every family in heaven and on earth is named, ¹⁶ that he may grant you in accord with the riches of his glory to be strengthened with power through his Spirit in the inner self, ¹⁷ and that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith; that you, rooted and grounded in love, ¹⁸ may have strength to comprehend with all the holy ones what is the breadth and length and height and depth, ¹⁹ and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, so that you may be filled with all the fullness of God.
²⁰ Now to him who is able to accomplish far more than all we ask or imagine, by the power at work within us, ²¹ to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus to all generations, forever and ever. Amen.

My heart sank and leaped and fluttered all at the same time.
This was amazing, not only was this the verse used 3 years prior, but it specifically speaks of Christ's desire for us to know the fullness of the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, so that we may be filled with all the fullness of God.
I was blown away.
I cried and just thanked God for this. Jehovah-Jireh, You have provided me with exactly what I needed.
I knew in that moment, that I was exactly where God had willed me to be.

There were many other instances where this was reaffirmed throughout the conference, but this was definitely the most moving. 

So, after everything that has happened, everything that I have learned, and everything that is to come, I want to announce that this Easter, I will be coming home to the Catholic church.

Please, if you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask.


I am beyond excited to be coming home to the Catholic church and I am very thankful for all of the people who helped me on this journey.
Thank you.

Meeting Mickey

On Saturday, August 8th of 2015, I met Mickey while spending a sweltering afternoon with a friend from out of town. My friend and I were walking about the streets near the Lorraine Motel waiting for a shop to open. On our way down the street, we passed a man who obviously had a disability. This disheveled, tired, and ignored man struggled to walk. Mickey was walking in the same direction as my friend and I, but he walked stooping over to his right and dragging his left leg behind him as if his leg was in protest of the movements he was making. As my friend and I quickly and very uncomfortably passed him, we noticed his body trembling, a hospital band on his left arm, and a fresh eight to nine inch gash on his right arm that had been poorly closed with staples. I am ashamed to say that because I was uncomfortable, I hurriedly passed this obviously distressed man with my eyes averted and my hand clutching my bag. As we walked by, my heart sank, but for the sake of my comfort and the comfort of my guest, I proceeded towards a small bench in front of the fire house away from this hunch backed, dirty, and tired man.
God must have prepared a lesson for me that day because He laid a heavy burden on my heart. I chose to ignore it. One of my very many mistakes, but God gave me a second chance. Mickey came stumbling up the sidewalk towards us. I was uncomfortable. I wanted to get up and relocate hastily before he drew too near, but we stayed sitting on that bench and Mickey looked us in the eyes and simply asked if we knew where he could get a coke. Mickey could not speak very clearly, so if I remember correctly, we asked him to repeat what he had said a couple times. After asking the man to wait on the bench for us, we left to grab him a coke, water, a sandwich, and some potato chips. Mickey looked so happy when we got back. He was most excited that the sandwich was on wheat bread. I cannot begin to explain the difference in Mickey's face from when he first ashamedly asked for a cook to when he was talking of how he loved wheat bread and was so glad that is what we got him.
Mickey showed me his cut and I washed it with some water and a napkin. We held Mickey's hands, prayed for him and went on our way to the small shop downtown. I didn't think I would see this man again.
On our walk back to the car, we passed the bench where Mickey had been eating his lunch and he was no longer there. I looked around and didn't see him. as we got closer to the Lorraine Motel, I saw him sitting on a different bench. We went up to Mickey and asked how his lunch was. He told us it was wonderful and thanked us again. Mickey's gash had reopened and was bleeding down his arm and onto his clothing. I couldn't ignore this. We prayed with Mickey again, thanking God for allowing us to meet and then I asked Mickey to wait on me one more time while I ran to get my first aid kit in my car about a 1/4 mile away.
I quickly gathered the things I needed out of my car and my friend and I walked back. We met mickey on the road and stopped under the shade of a trolley/bus stop on south main street. Thanks to my wonderful mother, having brothers, watching small prone-to-injury children, and being a nursing student for a semester, I had a little first aid knowledge at my fingertips and began patching him up to the best of my abilities. As I talked Mickey through what I was doing to patch him up, my friend and I got to know Mickey a little better. Mickey is from Pensacola, Florida and worked as an ER assistant and EMT for years. Mickey had a wife and family and loved his grandmother dearly. 16 years ago, Mickey was in a terrible car accident and was in a coma for 4 months time. Mickey told me about how he could hear his wife, family, friends, and doctors talk about him while he was in this coma.
Mickey never told me what happened to his wife or his family, or how he ended up in Memphis, but he did tell me that God had a plan. Mickey, with all that has plagued him, told me that he wouldn't be on this earth if God didn't have a plan for him. Seeing Mickey, a man with so much going against him, light up at the remembrance of a purpose God has for him, just filled my heart.
I finished cleaning, disinfecting, and patching Mickey up and we prayed. Mickey specifically asked for prayer over his back. He said it had been hurting since his accident 16 years ago and that he was hurting so badly. My friend, Mickey, and I all prayed and we went on our way.

It has been over a week since I saw Mickey and I have been unable to stop thinking, praying, and worrying about him. I find myself wondering if he has eaten or if his injury got infected or better. I pray that he finds a safe place to sleep at nights. I cannot forget the look in Mickey's eyes as he thanked us. I believe listening to him was more help than anything else we had done. Mickey said no one had spoken to him in quite a long time and even longer since someone had listened. I will never forget Mickey's face lighting up as he spoke of his Grandmother and his wife and brother and work as an ER assistant. He told me about how his Grandmother had the best apple pie recipe and how he missed it so much.

To me, Mickey is my reason. He is my reason to be aware. Mickey could have been anyone. He is someone's uncle, someone's coworker, someone's husband, someone's dad. He could have been my uncle, my coworker, my husband, or my dad, and I would want someone to take care of him if that were the case.
So, why didn't I help him the first time? because he was dirty? because he was hurt? because he was alone? because he was distressed? what more reasons do you need to help someone?
Why did I, specifically me, rush by Mickey the first time?
Because I was uncomfortable.
I was uncomfortable.
I rushed past him.
I did not look at him.
I did that.

Me specifically.

Mickey has been on my mind everyday since. I have truly evaluated the situation in many of its aspects and have prayed for him in every way I can think of.

Before I met mickey, I kept snacks, water, and Gatorade in my car and would uncomfortably pass them to strangers who sat by the roadside or who i met on the street. I would have small talk, but not enough to truly know the person.

I do not want this post to have a "look at how much of a good person I am" feel to it, because I feel cruddy after thinking of how many people I have walked by and not gotten a second chance to love on. I want this post to bring awareness to homelessness and to loving our neighbors, no matter where they are. These summer months are coming to a close, but they are not over yet. I ask you guys to join me and keep some Gatorade, water, protein snacks, and such in your car to give out when you see a neighbor in need. also, First Aid kits are a wonderful thing to have. I was so thankful for mine when I saw Mickey's injury and was able to help.
This is such a small thing, but if it can open the door to talking to someone about their life and how God is working in them, just think of what a grand adventure it could bring.
Pray for Mickey.
Pray for our neighbors.

Lots of Love,
Ruth