“Have a seat,” my father directed. I pulled up a chair and swallowed uneasily. As the daughter of staunch Catholic parents, raised all my nineteen years to believe Catholicism was the one, true Church, I had just done the unspeakable, the unthinkable. I had announced I was leaving the Catholic Church.
I sat down, trying to remain stubborn and confident, but my father wasn’t reacting as I assumed he would. He wasn’t shouting and pounding his fists and spitting fire balls. He wasn’t staggering about the room clutching his heart. He was cool, and it was his collected demeanor that made me nervous.
I stared him boldly in the face, searching his eyes for emotion and found hurt and anger. My message had been firm, yet my own eyes revealed a scared and confused teenager. I sensed that my mother, sitting behind us on the couch with her knitting, was tuning in to the conversation as well.
“What is it that made you decide this?” he asked, meeting my gaze with openness and sincerity. Now, at last, the moment of truth–my chance to let it all out.
I knew they wouldn’t like it, but I had to let them know. I could say Alberto Rivera made me do it (which at this point wasn’t far from the truth), but really it was Bob, my boyfriend of three years, who, with the help of his Fundamentalist church, had opened my eyes to the “sins” of the Catholic Church.
I was anxious to share these pearls of wisdom with my father. I told him I’d found Jesus and his truth at Calvary Chapel, where I had become convinced Catholicism was evil. I had proof to back up my statement and wanted him to check it out for himself. Having enlightened him, I waited for his reaction.
He was probably having a good laugh inside, but his face held that disappointed look. I became more nervous. After all, this was a difficult thing for me to do. On one hand, I had had the lifetime experience of Catholicism: Catholic school, daily Mass, CCD. On the other, I trusted Bob and knew he had been searching for the truth for a few years. He had attended different churches in our community and finally found his home at Calvary Chapel.
In an effort to be openminded I attended services with him, and it was there I was convinced that the answers to my questions and doubts weren’t to be found in Catholicism but in the gospel according to Calvary Chapel. So I gave in, thinking my decision would result in a union with the truth I was seeking. It did, but not the way I thought.
At first, going to a different church was a positive experience. I still attended Mass on Sundays, but going to Calvary Chapel with my boyfriend was more . . . fun. There was the entertainment factor–a blur of pizza fellowships, Bible-study beach days, and “born again” barbecues.
These events helped pull in the weary, the wayward, and the weak-rooted, especially Catholics such as I. The Sunday services were packed with emotion. During altar calls not a dry eye was to be seen. Everything felt so good, but as the fun became routine and events began to settle down, things didn’t look so good for the those still Catholic. Slowly I noticed a difference in Calvary Chapel’s presentation of “Christian living.” As the fun times died down, the underlying attitudes of what a Christian should be became more apparent.
The people at Calvary Chapel claimed to be more willing to accept a person as their brother or sister than people at the average church, but I always felt like cookie dough. The hierarchy of Calvary Chapel seemed to wield a giant cookie cutter in the shape of a “Christian,” and they cut “Christians” out of the dough. If you didn’t fit into their pattern, you weren’t a Christian.
Fundamentalists from Calvary Chapel had a bone to pick with everything Catholic. The Eucharist meant nothing to them–it is “a ritualistic farce, demonstrating adoration of the ancient sun god Baal.”
They said that by praying to Mary Catholics showed Jesus we didn’t trust his infinite wisdom and concern for us and that we thought he wasn’t “good enough” for our prayers so that we need to go to his mother instead of to him. Any type of action that had to do with our Blessed Mother was sinful in their eyes, the rosary being a great insult to God as far as they were concerned.
They said the crucifix, unlike a plain cross or the “risen Christ” cross, symbolized a “dead Christ” and suggested that Satan had won the battle.
Catholics were accused of altering the Ten Commandments. It was alleged that by leaving out a portion of the first commandment, “you shall not make for yourselves graven images of anything that is in the sky or on the earth or in the sea” (Ex. 20:4), we could justify “worshiping idols” or praying to the statues that are displayed in Catholic churches.
Pastor Jeff said Revelation undoubtedly referred to the Catholic Church when it described the Whore of Babylon. He quoted from chapters 17 and 18, stopping after each verse and explaining how Rome and the Pope were described “literally” and anyone who couldn’t see this was patently foolish.
“Catholics are not saved!” he informed the congregation. “If you are Catholic, you must come out of the church! Do not partake of her sins!” He riffled through his King James Bible, quoting verse after verse in a frantic attempt to refute Catholicism. After the service I found my car decorated with Chick Publications’ literature and tracts by Keith Green, a well-known (and now deceased) Christian musician and Catholic basher.
At less formal functions, I was asked to submit to “counseling” by the elders of the church. I found out I was on prayer lists of people I didn’t even know, including a group of former Catholics who had become members of Calvary Chapel. These were people my parents’ age; some I had known from my own parish. They witnessed to me about their “salvation” through Calvary Chapel.
By the time I finally made my decision to leave the Catholic Church, I thought the Church had deceived me. I had swallowed Calvary’s version of the truth. The worst part, though, was that I accepted what its members said without giving Catholicism a fair chance. So now, as I sat before my parents, I awaited their anger. My father sat, hands folded and quiet. After a moment or two, he spoke.
“You’re old enough to make your own decisions, you know. Your mother and I can’t tell you what to do or make you believe in something. This is your decision as an adult. But I think that before you give up on your faith, you should do yourself a favor and check it out. Do your homework,” he said.
What could I say? They obviously didn’t think much of my testimony. “I guess they aren’t ready to convert–yet,” I reasoned smugly.
“If you can give us specific examples of the things that make you doubt the faith and want to leave,” said my father, “we’ll test these things with you and find the truth together.”
I began to feel excited about this. I suppose I was really hoping that Calvary Chapel was wrong and I could still place my faith in Catholicism. I didn’t want to believe that I had been fooled all these years. But the Calvary Chapel people were so convincing–almost too convincing. Did my parents really think they could change my mind? Well, I had nothing to lose, so I agreed.
To aid the process of debate, I needed Calvary’s testimony. Conveniently, Pastor Jeff’s sermons were routinely recorded and available for a small donation. I picked up three tapes on Catholicism and brought them home. I spent hours with my father and my mother, listening and debating.
Could they convince me the pope was not the Antichrist? My father showed me Matthew 16:18-19, explaining that Jesus ordained Peter the first pope and that he and his successors were the shepherds of the Church. I was happy to hear this and eager to bring it up at the next meeting with the folks from Calvary Chapel.
They were not surprised to hear what I had learned and argued that the original Greek reads that Jesus said “Peter, you are petros [rock], and upon this petra [another form of rock] I will build my church,” thus explaining that Jesus spoke of two different rocks and ordained no one as pope.
I returned to my parents and told them what happened. They explained that, although the Greek translation may be in those words, Jesus did not speak Greek as his everyday language. He spoke Aramaic. The word he used each time was kepha, “rock.”
We tested more of the things troubling me. We traced the Eucharist straight back–not to the pagans, but to John 6. Jesus explained himself three times to the doubtful crowd in Capernaum, teaching that his flesh was “real food” and his blood “real drink.” Without these, one cannot have eternal life.
Another eye opener for me: The statues in church were not idols that Catholics bow down before to worship, but reminders of our Lord, his mother, his foster father, and the saints–reminders to us of real Christian living. My parents pointed out that the first commandment was broken into two parts by the Fundamentalists. The part about the graven images, what Fundamentalists call the second commandment, is a continuation of what they call the first. It says we are to have no god other than the one, true God.
I continued to question, even grilling the priests in my parish, using the Bible as my guide. I started to realize that maybe I could trust the Catholic Church and that there was more to Christianity than just “feeling good” during a church service.
I talked to a lot of people. I attended a few more Sunday services and Bible studies with my boyfriend to test the “Catholic answers” I was finding. I came to understand that many truths of my faith, truths that are common ground for Catholics and Fundamentalists alike, are not to be found in the Bible, but have been handed down in the form of Tradition. This caused a serious problem with the Calvary Chapel people, particularly when I mentioned that the Trinity is not expressly defined in the Bible. Gradually the strength of the Fundamentalist arguments I had come to believe seemed to dilute and wash right down the drain.
The most helpful thing of all, of course, was prayer. If there was anything I had learned, it was the power and necessity of prayer. The Holy Spirit was my guide, and this time I wasn’t going to give in to pressure or confusion or accept something “just because.” I wanted to know the truth.
After all the debating, learning, and hurting, I am a Catholic and happy to be one. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen my old boyfriend or Pastor Jeff or the other Calvary Chapel “friends” I couldn’t keep if I remained Catholic. I think of them still and wish them well.
The challenge I accepted from my parents has made a great difference in my faith. I can say that in a way I have been “born again.” I have a new and real understanding of the Catholic Church, and that makes my faith grow daily. I am not afraid to ask questions about my faith, and with a little effort I can find answers when I don’t understand.