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Weekly sessions explain the beliefs and practices of our Catholic faith. Invite someone who is looking for a deeper meaning in their life that perhaps our Catholic faith can fill. Join them at the first session in October. For more information or questions, call Monsignor Schneider (314.434.4211) or Kay (314.878.1013)
One man's story...
My “Journal” Info Faith
By Johnathan Eudy
Beginnings
Before I begin this journal, I must explain where I have come from and why I am on this journey. Two years ago this Easter, before I set foot on this path, I was mourning the lost of my first and only child, Angela Nicole. Although that is an entirely different story, it is not unrelated to this journey.
Two years ago, I also belonged to another church. Mehlville Baptist Church, to be more specific. I was there in celebration of Easter, but I was also there in mourning. Unbeknownst to me, my feet would be placed on this path that day.
Let me share my humble beginnings. This excerpt is from my short story The Messenger: Angela’s Story:
Julie and I were attending Easter service at Mehlville Baptist Church, where we had been going before we moved to Hawaii. We were very close to the people there. Especially pastor Skip, who had seen us through a lot of difficulties with Julie’s seizures in the past.
I was really looking forward to sitting in our usual seats (in the back row of the center isle) and taking in Skip’s sermon. Maybe I would feel “at home” again. We arrived to a near-full parking lot. Having not been there in two years, we nervously entered the church, where we were greeted and handed a program.
The chapel was split into three rows with two isles leading up to the altar. I stepped into the left doorway. The number of people in attendance was amazing. It was completely packed. “Julie” I whispered. “I don’t know where we’re going sit.” Just after I said that I saw one, open spot.
I grabbed Julie’s hand and quickly walked over to the right door. In the last row of the center isle…two seats. “Look Julie. God saved us our old seats.” I said, smiling from ear to ear. It was good to be home again. To feel so welcome in God’s house.
It turned out that there wasn’t going to be a normal service that Easter. A small play was to be performed instead. I was a little disappointed. ‘I came all this way for a play?’ I thought. The play was a brief version of Jesus’ life, death and resurrection. But because the story of Jesus’ life is the greatest story ever told, the disappointment faded and I grew excited instead.
The play began and progressed well. I was actually entertained until they got to the part where Jesus began calling out his disciples.
The lights dimmed. Jesus, or at least the man playing him, was standing by the left door. From there, he moved unhurriedly down the isle, toward the altar. He began calling out the names of the twelve disciples. “Peter.” He paused. ”James”…
In the dim light, he moved past the altar and started his way up the right isle toward where I was sitting. My heart began to race. I fixed my gaze on the altar. My mind contemplating Luke 23:42, “…Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.”
Before I knew it, Jesus was standing just to the right of me. His silhouette cast a shadow on me. I could not see his face for the light that came through the window behind him. I could only make out his shape. The chapel was silent. My heart stopped in anticipation…
“John” He called out of the darkness. His voice boomed. I could not just hear it, I could feel it as well.
My heart thundered against my chest. Tears welled up in my eyes. My hands shook. Every fiber of my being wanted this actor to be the real Jesus Christ. I wanted desperately to fall on my knees in front of him and say, “I am here my Lord. I am here.”
For those brief seconds, there was only my Lord and myself. I restrained myself though, thinking, ‘Its just a play. Its just a play.’ He turned and proceeded back down the isle. He was done calling the disciples and was on to the rest of the scenes.
Something changed in me that moment. I wanted so badly to be with Christ, I began seeking him out in many forms. Going to Church more often, Christian radio stations, and, in one of my favorite ways, I sought him by reading.
Not just the Bible alone either, but many different Christian books. I read the Left Behind series, several books by Max Lucado, and a few other books by different protestant writers. Then shortly after moving back to Missouri and semi-reestablishing myself back into Mehlville Baptist Church, I had a discussion with my friend Hal. We talked about the differences between the Protestant & Catholic churches. He gave me a book called Born Fundamentalist, Born Again Catholic, written by David B. Currie.
Hal is Lutheran and had read Currie’s book to help him better understand his wife’s faith, she is Catholic. Still thinking most of Christianity as basically the same, I thought it might be interesting to read it. To understand the differences from someone whose point of view had changed from Protestant to Catholic. Not to mention I might even learn more about my best friend Marc’s Catholic views. He always said that I had never taken the time to understand him or his church.
Now at the time I was reading Currie’s book, something very significant happened. Our second unborn daughter, Abigail Raine, was diagnosed with a terminal birth defect. The thought of loosing another child caused me to really question my faith, to question God. “Why is this happening again? What do you want me to learn that I haven’t already learned?” I asked him. I grew frustrated when I wasn’t getting answers from my Bible studies either. “Fine.” I pouted. “If you won’t answer me, then I won’t listen.” I said.
I continued to read and study Currie’s book and, interestingly enough, God began to answer my questions. I started to learn why things were happening the way they were. After finishing his book, I searched for more information on the Catholic Church. ‘How could I have been so blind as to not see all these answers before?’ I thought.
After a lot of contemplation, studying, and reluctant prayer I made the decision to reconcile with the Catholic Church. It was not an easy decision either. Well, actually it was. It was the ramifications of that decision that weren’t going to be easy.
I would be the first Catholic, that I knew of, in my Baptist family. My wife Julie, was against reconciling to the Catholic Church because her family were primarily Baptist too. In addition to all that, I would be placing my faith in a Church I knew so very little about.
Oh, sure, I knew that this was the Church Jesus founded. After reading the Catechism, I knew the basic teachings of the Catholic Church were true and justified. I even understood myself better. My lifelong viewpoints and ideals were given credibility by Catholic teaching.
But, by making this decision, I may loose the support of my family, I may put my marriage in jeopardy, and I had to cast aside the Protestant idea of sola scriptura (only scripture) and accept the foreign idea of Catholic traditions in addition to the Bible. My fear and lack of faith meant that I would have to wait until after Abby was born to finally go through with it.
Abigail died the very same day she was born. When Angela was born and died, my thoughts were constantly with God. With Abby, I kept my thoughts to myself, so no one knew of my plans to change churches. The day after she died I received an unexpected start in my what would be my new Journey Into Faith.
Skip, our pastor from Mehlville Baptist, came to visit us in the hospital. Toward the end of the visit, I said that I was sorry we hadn’t been to church for the last couple of months. In reality, I just didn’t what to expose my lack of faith as being the reason so I said it was because of the twenty-minute drive and Julie’s back pain.
“I can give you a couple of other churches you can go to that are closer. That might be better.” Skip responded unexpectedly.
Now for some reason I felt as if I had just been asked to leave Mehlville Baptist Church, to go elsewhere. I know he only meant that he wanted us in church, even if it wasn’t his own. However, as a result I began thinking, ‘Is this God’s way of telling me that it’s time to reconcile to the Catholic Church?’
A couple of weeks after the funeral, I began to feel God’s call. It was time. I cast my fears aside, put my faith in Jesus Christ and called the Catholic Information line to find out what I needed to do. I knew that no matter what came, Christ would not lead me astray. If God called, I must answer, “I am here Lord.”
The following is my ‘Journal’ Into Faith:
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First Impressions:
It’s the end of October, Julie and I are only three weeks removed from burying Abigail. Our emotions are still very raw as we are still mourning. But, it is partly because of that that I know we should be here.
After Angela died, Julie and I suffered in our own ways. That personal suffering lead to an emotional separation in our marriage. We unintentionally distanced ourselves from one another. After weeks of enduring a great absence of love, I realized that our marriage was in danger. God, in his love and concern for us, showed me what I needed to do.
Still living in Hawaii at the time, Julie and I hiked up the Waianea Mountains to Kolekole Pass. In a small grassy out cropping overlooking most of the leeward side of O’ahu, I placed a small blanket for Julie to lie down on. I sat next to her and, relaxing in the mountain breeze, I read from Solomon’s Song of Songs to her. Using God’s inspired word, I expressed my love and desire for her.
God reunited us on that mountainside. He rekindled the flame that burned in our hearts for one another, rejuvenating our marriage. Knowing, that through our love of God, our marriage could be made stronger, I made the decision to attend St. Monica’s Journey Into Faith class. And wouldn’t you know it, God agreed.
Our very first class? The Sacrament of Marriage. God always knows what we need. It was a wonderful class. We realized that God was not going to let us endure the marital separation after Abby like we did after Angela.
Right now I feel that I have made the right decision.
Monsignor Schneider’s Eucharist Class:
The next class was a demonstration of the Mass, primarily the Eucharist. Monsignor Schneider presented it. He was strong in his delivery, firm in the belief that the bread and the wine become the physical body and blood of Christ. As a matter of fact, I remember him saying, at least twice, “If you can’t believe this, then the Catholic Church is not for you. You should find another church.”
‘Whoa!’ I thought. His comments first came to me as being hostile. I actually wondered if he really cared about whether we joined the church or not. ‘Man! You need to Relax.’ I thought to myself.
However, after thinking about it, I began to understand that he was not being belligerent; he was being passionate. The Eucharistic belief is central to Catholicism and he wanted to ensure that it was not taken lightly. But could I believe it?
I immediately thought of the Easter play. If Jesus is whom I seek, then, through Eucharistic transubstantiation, I could be in his real, physical presence here on Earth. I could actually receive the body and blood of Christ. Yes, I happily welcomed this belief.
Before the class ended, we were asked if we had any thoughts or questions on or about the Eucharist. Understanding, no…feeling Monsignor’s passion, I told everyone in my study group the story of the play. I expressed to them my desire to kneel at Christ’s feet. That by accepting the Eucharist as his real body & blood, I would fulfill the desire to actually be with Jesus.
I had accepted my first truth of Catholicism.
Temptation:
After the seventh and eighth classes, along with making up the three that I had missed, I began to wonder if I had made the right decision? There was a lot more that would be required of me. A lot more to learn. ‘Can I really make this journey?’ I thought.
Midway through the eighth class, a voice crept into my head. “Just go back to your old church, your old ways. It would be so much easier. This is foolishness. You don’t need to know all this.”
‘I know you.’ I thought. ‘My adversary. If this threatens you, then I must truly be on the right track. I have committed myself to the Lord. I will finish this journey. I will do my best to please God.’ I argued.
The voice was silenced.
Julie’s Pain at Christmas:
By the ninth class (9th of December), I had begun to pressure Julie into becoming Catholic. I just couldn’t understand why she couldn’t, or wouldn’t, accept the truths we had discovered so far. I grew somewhat angry with her. She was becoming very frustrated with me as well.
Toward the end of the ninth class, Julie had a deeply saddened, but angry expression on her face. Without warning and in front of me and two other JIF instructors, she blurted out, “I am beginning to hate this Christmas!” A small tear ran down her cheek.
“Let’s go.” I said. I escorted her out to the Jeep and took her home. She explained how not having either Angela or Abigail here for Christmas was hurting her. She tried to tell me that she didn’t want to do this class now, but when she did that, I again grew a little angry.
“I don’t understand why you just can’t accept it.” I said. Keeping the same stance all through December and into January, it took me a long time to figure out that what I said was wrong.
By mid-January I was wondering if my reconciliation to the Catholic Church would lead to our divorce. ‘So much for the Sacrament of Marriage.’ I thought.
Reconciliation with Julie:
Around the first week of February, I expressed my concerns for my marriage to a friend. I explained that I couldn’t understand why Julie just couldn’t accept Catholicism. I wanted her to be Catholic with me.
He said, “Did you ever stop to think that maybe that’s not what she wants right now? Think about it. It’s only been a couple of months since Abby died. Maybe she just wants to be with you, to begin living life again. Maybe she just wants to keep everything simple for now. Converting to Catholicism is a really big change, you know?”
I sat there with my jaw hanging open. I couldn’t believe I was that blind, that selfish. From that point on I was perfectly okay with Julie remaining protestant… just as long as she remained my wife. I forgot about what I wanted. If it’s God’s will that she reconcile to the Catholic Church, then it will be in his time, not in mine.
As a side note, we spent the following weekend, St. Valentine’s weekend, in Chicago. We also visited South Bend, IN, home to Notre Dame University. Romance flourished in our marriage once again.
Making My Choice Known to Family:
For some time now, I had been plagued by the thought of telling my own Dad, as well as Julie’s Dad, Dennis, whom I admired very much, about my reconciliation with the Catholic Church. I was unsure of how Dennis would react, but I knew my Dad well enough to know that he would not be happy. My Dad and I had only just developed a good relationship over the last nine years. I feared that this would bring that to an end.
My Mom, Grandma Halbrook (Meemo), Julie’s Mom, and her Grandma Fay already knew. Because of their openness and understanding of my desire to follow Christ, I had already told them. Other than Julie, they were the only comfort I had when it came to telling my family. Of course, the main reassurance in making this move came from the Holy Spirit himself.
By the following verse, my faith in Jesus had already been put to the test twice with Angela & Abigail. Now it would be tested again…this time with my own parents:
"Anyone who loves his father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; anyone who loves his son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me; and anyone who does not take his cross and follow me is not worthy of me.”
Matthew 10:37-38
I told Dennis the last week of February. He surprised me with understanding and acceptance. Of course he was curious as to why I had decided to make the change and, subsequently asked a few questions, but I was still shocked by the shear love he showed me.
“I know where your heart lies John. I know you are only trying to do the right thing. That you are just trying to follow Christ the best way you know how and most comfortable way for you. We still love you and you know you are still welcome here…anytime.”
I always admired Dennis, but I think my admiration became more of a love for him as a father figure that day. He gave me confidence to tell my own Dad, whom I decided to tell on March 1st, opening day for Trout season.
That was to be my first opening day with Dad. ‘Good a time as any.’ I guessed.
March 1st – The Truth Shall Set You Free
It’s been three months since I made my decision. Thanks to the Journey Into Faith classes, I have advanced a great deal in my relationship with God. I have become very happy in most aspects of my life. Unfortunately, I still have one rather large stumbling block on my path. March 1st has come, its time to tell my Dad.
In my budding relationship with God, I have found that Trout fishing at Montauk State Park has become a special event and place for us to grow closer. God has helped me to undergo some big changes in my life there.
I caught my first fish in over two years, a big one at that, the day after I buried Angela. I had a wonderful time with God that day. Upon returning home from Hawaii a year later, I caught another large one first thing in the morning. Like the day after Angela, I had another good day with God. This time I caught my limit (5) for the first time in a very long time. Today though, I was to tell Dad about my decision to leave the Baptist Church and reconcile with the Catholic Church. Although God and I had a good morning, Dad and I probably wouldn’t have a good one.
I explained my decision to be Catholic to Dad on the way home. I told him about Lent & my Right of Election approaching. I explained how I was finally achieving peace and happiness after Abigail. Before I finished, though, I could tell he was angry. When I did finish, he expounded all the reasons he was against Catholicism. ‘Is this what I used to sound like?’ I wondered.
Dad rejected my newfound faith and asked me not to attend church with him that morning. It hurt, but in all reality it was the reaction I expected. We didn’t talk much the rest of the way home or for the rest of the time I was there.
Later that morning, I took my kayak out and paddled the Current River for a couple of hours. I needed to spend some time with God, to sort out what happened, and to figure out what I might expect in the future. Between the splendor of his creation and the feelings of reassurance he provided, I was became free of worry.
I had told my Dad the truth and the truth had set me free.
Celebrating Lent for the First Time:
In our next Monday night class we discussed Ash Wednesday and the Rite of Election at the St. Louis Cathedral Basilica. Both events would take place that week. Lent was something I knew of, but had never celebrated. It was the same with the Cathedral Basilica, something I knew of, but never experienced.
I was very vocal at home, work, and with family about my enthusiasm in celebrating my first Lent. I gave up candy, Easter candy being my favorite candy of all, because I wanted my sacrifice to mean something. I proudly fasted on Ash Wednesday, although I failed to receive my ashes. Also another first, I didn’t eat meat the following Friday.
The truly amazing thing is that I was completely happy to do these things. I knew for whom I was doing them and that has made all the difference. The Holy Spirit blessed me every day by reminding me that Jesus said, “Man does not live on bread alone…” – Matthew 4:4
Martin’s Letter:
Recently I applied for a commission in the Coast Guard Reserve. According to everyone I talked to I was a complete lock for getting promoted Ensign. Something happened though. I was ‘not recommended’ by the interview board, which means that my application package would not be considered any further.
I, as well as everyone around me, was completely shocked by it. I guess when you’ve been told that this is something you are going to get, it becomes almost expected. Then when you don’t get it, disappointment sets in. I became angry.
Like I did with Abigail, I began to ask God “Why has this happened?” As always, he answers when and how you least expect it.
During a Journey Into Faith class, Martin Duggan read a letter from the “Jordan Management Consultants” to Jesus. It was a humorous letter about the characteristics and abilities of the disciples. In the letter, the only disciple that was recommended as “best candidate” for Jesus’ right hand man was Judas. Everyone laughed at the letter. For me, though, it hit a little closer to home.
God exposed to me that I was acting a little like Judas. I realized that I had putting myself first in my life, instead of Christ. I fully understood that night that God had his own plans for me. Instead of seeking out positions of power and status for myself, I should be asking God where he wants me to be and what he wants me to do.
The Rite of Election:
A couple of weeks before the Rite of Election, we were asked to have our sponsors write a letter confirming our desire to become Catholic. I realized that, other than the blessed Trinity, I had been making this journey alone. I had no sponsor. Feeling misplaced, I turned to Kay Bloss, the Journey Into Faith coordinator, for help.
Kay was the only one that had read Angela’s story, so she was the only one who knew the most about me. I nervously asked her to be my sponsor. She agreed. I was ecstatic. It always feels so good to have another Christian approve and support one’s desire to follow Christ.
All the candidates and catechumen took the bus from St. Monica’s to the Cathedral Basilica. For the most part I remained silent on the way there. To be honest, I was a little nervous. There was no going back now. My decision, my commitment to God would be set in stone today.
Our bus stopped in front of the massive, gray stone Cathedral. It’s expansive green dome shown brightly in the chilled winter air. I ascended the steps to the large wooden doors, oblivious to all the people around the entrance. The desire to see the inside of one of God’s great houses ruled my thoughts.
Just inside the doors was a grand vestibule. Crowded though it was, nothing detracted from its gold, domed ceiling depicting different scenes, a tribute if you will, to St. Louis IX, the King of France. Beautiful, but nothing compared to what lay beyond the next set of doors.
Through those doors I entered into what I can only describe as spell binding. Completely marveling to the eye. Gigantic columns and arches directed my eyes upward. The colossal, picturesque dome displayed many bible stories, tributes, and scenes. It’s vibrant colors and sheer size struck me dumb. I had no words.
We continued down the isle. Great wooden pews filled the massive halls. Hundreds of people had gathered under God’s roof. All were here to take part in the Rite of Election. As we approached our section, I began to imagine that this had to be another small glimpse of what God may have in store for us in Heaven. Many people, sons and daughters, gathered together in God’s great house to worship his son, our savior, Jesus Christ.
Another small dome stood alone at the center of the Cathedral. It housed the altar and the Crucifixion. Sitting in the mass of people, my heart stirred. I wanted to leap from my pew and humble myself before Christ on the Cross his magnificent house. For now though, I would be content to pray silently, waiting to make my Rite of Election.
After the Homily, we were called up to the altar, were Archbishop Rigali administered our election. I felt fortunate to have Kay standing by me as my sponsor during the Rite. It was good to stand before everyone and confirm my decision to become Catholic.
I was again very quiet on the way home, humbled by the grandeur of God’s house. What a glorious day it had been!
April – Forthcoming Communion & My Dad
In my first season of Lent I have experienced a joyful reawakening to Christ. A revived commitment to my Lord. I have stood before hundreds of people and confirmed my decision to be Catholic. I have been to Sunday Mass at St. Monica’s regularly. Plus, I have been attending weekday Mass on Tuesdays and Thursdays at the Old Cathedral in downtown St. Louis. All this and my weekly Journey Into Faith classes too. At our final March Journey Into Faith class, we started to make plans for our conformation and forthcoming communion with Christ at the Easter Vigil.
I was asked to list how many I would invite. Julie will be there of course. Should I invite my Dad, Julie’s Dad, or anyone else? After asking, I was again surprised by Dennis’ willingness to support me. He and his wife, Karen, were more than willing to attend.
Although I know my Dad disagrees with me, I decided to invite him anyway. As I expected, he wasn’t very receptive. His actual words to me were, “I won’t be there.” I find it strange how he was the one that asked me to go to the altar the first time. He was there when I was saved. He was there when I was later baptized. But now that I am becoming Catholic and receiving my first communion with Jesus Christ? I guess this part was not in his plans for me.
My Mom, who was down from Wyoming to visit Julie and I for Easter, had researched the Easter Vigil on her own. She realized just how important first communion and confirmation is to a Catholic. So between that and the fact that my Dad wouldn’t be there, she became adamant about staying the extra week for it. I was thrilled by her eagerness to witness my journey’s end.
After she made her decision to stay, my brother Jared, whom I love a great deal, surprised me by taking an extra couple of days off from work to be there. I don’t think he will ever truly know just happy I was that he stayed to be with me.
So the guest list was set. I would be blessed to have each of them there.
Confession & Reconciliation:
I went to St. Monica’s the Monday after Palm Sunday to make my first confession. I did it that Monday because my last Journey Into Faith class was also that evening and I wanted the rest of the week to prepare myself for my first communion without distraction.
I walked into a darkened sanctuary and took my seat in the last pew. Only one other man was seated there in the back, close to the confessional. Neither priest was present yet. I was left to sit there in the dark, contemplating my sins.
My heart beat faster and faster. I knew this was right, but I still feared actually confessing my sins verbally. I pressed my hands together, looking toward the altar. The priest entered the sanctuary, walked up the center isle, and entered the confessional.
The other man and I continued to sit there for couple more minutes. I was fidgeting with anxiety, waiting to see if the other man was going to go first. Finally, he got up and entered the confessional. ‘I guess I’ll be next.’ I thought, still not relieved of my fretfulness. “Christ, give me strength to come to you.” I prayed.
The man emerged. It was my turn. I got up and nervously approached the confessional. My hands, still clasped together in prayer, were sweating. ‘This is it.’ I thought, grabbing the doorknob. ‘No turning back now.’
I entered the small, wood paneled room. I kneeled quietly on a padded bar. Hands still clasped tightly together, I placed my elbows on the sill of a tiny, screened window. The priest’s silhouette was just noticeable in the soft light behind the screen. Looking up at a small crucifixion I said, “Father I have come to confess my sins. I am in the Journey Into Faith class so this will be my first confession.”
“That is good my son. What sins do you have to confess?”
I had committed many sins since my baptism, but I tried to keep them general and non-graphic. I confessed two of my worst sins before I became somewhat speechless. I guess I was kind of scared.
“Are there any more sins you wish to confess?” Asked the priest.
“No.”
“Well what about your prayer life?”
“…………”
“Do you pray often?”
I immediately thought about Abby. I thought about being angry with God for not letting me keep her. “No Father. There have been times when I have gone long periods without praying.”
“I see.” He paused for a few moments. “Would you like to say an Act of Contrition?”
Feeling ashamed, I replied, “I don’t know what that is.”
“Okay then. I want you to pray to God as best you know how to ask for forgiveness.”
Thinking of how David prayed after he lost his son, I prayed remorsefully. When I was done, the priest explained that Jesus came into the world to forgive our sins. That “Because of his sacrifice and by his mercy you are forgiven.” I almost came to tears. How I had longed to hear those words, “you are forgiven” with my own ears.
”Now, for your penance,” My heart jumped. I knew I had to pay for what I had done, but I had no idea what to expect. “I want you to say one “Our Father” and pray for peace in Iraq.”
“I will Father.” I said, feeling somewhat relieved over my light penance.
“Then go in peace my son.”
I solemnly left the tiny room. My heart soared. I scurried back to where I was sitting before and kneeled. I prayed the Our Father, then for peace in Iraq. I sat back in the pew for a moment. ‘If that is it’, I thought, ‘then I got off pretty light.’
I kneeled back down and prayed the Glory Be, the Hail Mary, said the Apostle’s Creed, and then just gave thanks to God for sending Christ in my life. Afterward, a true feeling of forgiveness came to me. In my heart, the Lord drew me close and showed me compassion. The freedom from sin I had sought for so long was given to me by Christ through that priest.
Entry: The Easter Vigil – My First Communion
The sun had almost set by the time I arrived at St. Monica’s. Pink and orange hues gave way to the dark blue & gray evening sky. Everyone hurried about in and around the shadowy church preparing for the Easter Vigil. The ceremony was to start outside in the darkness of night. The Paschal candle would be lit there then carried into the church, symbolizing our journey from darkness to light. From death to life.
I stood in front of everyone, well right behind the candidate banner anyway, with Kay, my sponsor, her husband to my left, and Julie directly behind me with the rest of my family. From that vantage point I had full view of the Paschal Candle lighting ceremony.
After the candle was lit, my mind began to focus in on what I had come to do. All the distractions of this journey faded, the stumbling blocks had been removed. Tonight, by accepting Christ’s body & blood through communion, I would be one with Jesus. That was all I could or needed to think about.
Everything was dark upon entering the church. The only light came from the Paschal Candle. From it more candles were lit. The dim, candlelight grew as the flame passed from person to person until the sanctuary was filled with soft flickering light.
Skipping ahead to the main ceremony, the lights were now on and I was standing next to the altar with my fellow catechumen & candidates. Monsignor Schneider was preparing the chrism oil for conformation of the Holy Spirit. He then proceeded to bless each of us with it. Dipping his thumb in the oil then gently rubbing it on our foreheads, he said, “Be sealed with the Holy Spirit.”
After my conformation, my thoughts cleared. I could only think of one thing…communion with Christ was next. It had been a long journey, but soon we would truly be together. Monsignor Schneider blessed the bread and the wine making it the body & blood of Christ through transubstantiation.
Now before I go on, I have to say that I have never been much of a wine drinker. The communion wine from the past always seemed bitter to me, so I had been thinking about the wine in this communion for sometime. I was hoping that somehow it would be different. That it would not be bitter
Monsignor stepped in front of me. I bowed. “The body of Christ.”
“Amen.” I responded, then received Christ’s body.
Another stepped in front of me with the wine. Again, I bowed. “The blood of Christ.”
“Amen.” I responded. I took the cup, placed it to my lips and sipped. This was different. It tasted sweet, instantly taking away my thirst. ‘Truly this must be the blood of Jesus.’ I thought.
I handed the cup back. Bowing my head in prayer, I began to feel true physical peace came over me. “Finally, we are together my Lord. Finally.” I whispered. My heart swelled. This journey was over, now I could rest in my Savior for a while.
After the Mass was over, Kay had gifts for Julie and I. Truth be known, I really didn’t feel right about accepting her gifts because she had already given me the one gift I really wanted, friendship. However, there is one gift that I must mention. It was more than just a first communion gift, it was an affirmation from God.
Now as far as I know, when someone is confirmed and receives their first communion, they choose one of the Saints to be their Patron Saint. For the last two weeks I had been trying to decide between two in particular. St. Paul, because my life has been so similar to his, right down to the ability and desire to write after being saved and, St. John the Evangelist. I can’t really explain why, but I’ve always felt a certain admiration for St. John.
One of the first gifts I opened from Kay was a sterling silver pendant of St. John the Evangelist. I was humbled, speechless. I guess St. John had asked the Lord to be my Patron Saint, God must have agreed…
I really didn’t know how to thank Kay for her gifts, but I will always be thankful that I can call her friend.
Journal Conclusion – Peace be with you.
Each of us is called in our own way. Some have been called here for the first time. They are experiencing the wonder and joy of God’s love like that of a newborn, wide eyed and with curious enthusiasm.
Some are called here to finish what God stared in their lives so long ago. To grow from the mustard seed he planted in their hearts.
God has called some to experience and do more in their relationship with him. To take the leap of faith from their protestant beginnings and learn that God has so much more to offer.
And to some, God has spoken softly to through the hardship of death, divorce, and other pains. He has called them here to receive his comfort, his strength, his gifts. To reaffirm that he is there for them. Indeed, Christ is there to greet each of us at our journey’s end.
We each have a story to tell. What you have read is my story, my calling, my path. But, since we have all shared the blessings of Christ’s supper together, let us boldly share how the Holy Spirit has led us here. Listen and marvel at what lengths God has gone to just to bring each of us to his Son’s table.
Two years ago I received my call. It came after a death and out of the darkness. My feet were placed on a path that has been hard to follow. There have been many twists, many turns…many peaks and many valleys. The devil had placed several stumbling blocks in my way. Still, I sought our Lord.
Finally, in the Catholic Church I have found him. I have found happiness. I have found fulfillment. I have found peace. But this is just a short respite before my journey of life begins anew. For the moment, though, I take refuge in our Father’s house. I dine at our Lord’s table. I rest here with you, my brothers and sisters in Christ. Here we have communion with our savior, our Shepard. Here we have peace in our troubled world.
For now, eat, drink and be merry, because a new path will be set before each of us soon enough. A path where the devil waits to tempt and to trouble us, but like the two travelers to Emmaus, I pray that Jesus will meet you on that path. That he will share the scriptures with you. That he will also break bread with you so that your eyes will remain open and your heart burning within you.
So, until we meet again at our Lord’s table…may his peace be with you always.
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