Conversion Story pt 3

“I believe, Lord help my unbelief!” Mark 9:24

As I slowly backed away from the Mormon Church I found myself wondering where it was that God was leading me. I was still unconvinced, despite the constant attempts by my Catholic friend to persuade me, that Catholicism could be the “true Church.” I began questioning why I was limiting myself to Christian religions. I mean, I only knew that God existed and that He was love. I had just assumed that this meant that the God whom I experienced was the Christian God. That didn’t necessarily have to be the case. But I wasn’t very enthusiastic about looking elsewhere; perhaps another way that the Holy Spirit was guiding me.

One day my Catholic friend invited me to go to Mass with her. It was Pentecost (which, for those who may not know, is considered the birthday of the Church- it marks the night when the Holy Spirit descended upon the Apostles in the Upper Room). I was skeptical, but I agreed to go with her. Something interesting happened at that Mass. Nothing spectacular, but enough to catch my attention. The Gospel reading was the exact same as that which I had read just the night before at home. And then Father preached on an issue (I don’t remember what it was) that my Catholic friend and I had debated about for hours the night before. The whole incident did little for me other than make me raise an eyebrow.

A few weeks later I was invited to Mass again, but by a different Catholic friend. This time there was something called “adoration” before Mass. Now, by this time I knew what Catholics believed about the bread and wine. I knew that they believed, based off of John 6, that this bread and wine, by the power of the priest, was changed into the Body and Blood of Jesus Christ. Again, it sounded crazy to me… but hey, God could do what He wanted, right? Regardless, I didn’t believe it.

So, we went to adoration before Mass. I knelt down, not entirely sure why I was kneeling. I looked around the church a bit, tried to people watch, but found my gaze being continuously drawn back toward the little host in the funny looking sun thing (which I now know is called a Monstrance). I began to pray, just as I did often times at home. And before I knew what I was doing, I found myself praying the very prayer of a man in Mark’s Gospel who asked Jesus for the healing of his son, “I believe, Lord help my unbelief!”

What shall I say? Once again my experience is an ineffable one. How can I put into words what I experienced? Let it suffice for me to say that I was once more left with an undeniable knowledge that truly, truly that host was the Son of God, Jesus Christ Himself.

I came forth from that period of prayer and the Mass that followed with a sure knowledge: I must become Catholic. If the bread and wine truly became the Body and Blood of Jesus Christ, then I had no choice but to become Catholic.