About My Journey of Faith

I’m a convert to the Catholic church from the Church of Christ. I was raised in the Church of Christ (which doesn’t have instrumental music, doesn’t believe in women speaking or taking a leadership role in the church, and believes that all we need to know we get from the Bible - okay, that’s kind of a pedestrian view of the Church of Christ, but it’s pretty much the bottom line). I don’t really have any anger toward the church I grew up in. A lot of very good people go there - people whom I love (including many of my family members), but there came a point in my life when I needed something different - something more? I didn’t know what that something was at the time, though. I just started questioning.

The questioning didn’t lead me to the Catholic church. On the contrary, what led me to the Catholic church was a man. The man I married to be specific. We started dating when I was studying music at a local community college (where he was also studying music). He asked if I’d come help him out with a mass or two - give his singers some pointers - which I did, and I got drawn in by the music partly, and by the newness of it all as well. It was just so different from what I was used to. It’s not that I don’t love the old hymns that we sang. I do love them still. But that music spoke to me in a different way.

I didn’t convert before we got married, though. Or even afterwards, for a long, long time. I kept doing music with Mike for several years, but as a non-Catholic. Why did I convert? There is no big conversion moment here, I’m afraid. I thought I might convert after my parents had passed on because I didn’t want to cause them pain and I knew that my conversion would do that. No, what happened was that people who love me and people whom I love said, it’s time, Karin. It’s time to just become a Catholic already. You’re here all the time. You participate in the Mass in every way except the most important one. It’s time. And I missed partaking of communion. A lot. That’s the thing that I could do as a non-Catholic. I could get up and sing. I could receive blessings and anointments. But I couldn’t partake of the Holy Eucharist.

I will never forget the night of my Confirmation. I didn’t really know what I would feel or if I would feel anything at all. But I did. When our priest laid his hands on me at the Easter Vigil, I absolutely felt the Holy Spirit come down upon me. I felt the grace of God. I felt something. I felt everything. I will never forget that moment. Ever.

I’m not a perfect Catholic. I’m not a perfect Christian. But, I am striving to get there. I am striving to do what Jesus would do. I am striving to live my life the way I need to in order to repay the bountiful blessing God has so graciously bestowed upon me in my life.

Oh, you might be wondering how my parents took it when I told them I was converting to Catholicism. Well, they didn’t take it too well at first. But I said something to them after which they couldn’t argue with me anymore or they would risk being hypocritical in what they had taught me all my life. I told them I had prayed on this decision for a very long time and that in my heart I knew that it was the right decision for me and that it was what God wanted me to do. They had no choice but to accept my decision. And I still believe this was what God wanted me to do. He continues to lead me toward something. I’m not sure exactly what He has in mind for me, but I am sure that if I trust in Him and believe in Him, one day I will get there.