Every time I write my conversion story, I remember some detail that I’ve forgotten the previous time, or something that was out of order, so don’t hang me if you’ve read previous versions and note some inconsistencies

My father grew up in a large Polish Catholic family, but somehow, the faith didn’t resonate with him and his siblings. My brothers and I were raised without a church background, although our parents had us baptized in the Catholic Church as infants, and we never went to church for anything but baptisms, weddings or funerals.

I grew up in a rather unstable household, with an alcoholic father (who was trying to drown his memories of the Vietnam War) and a mentally-ill mother (which I only came to understand as a young adult). My brothers and I had our share of fun times, including family vacations to Florida, but on the whole, ours was a home characterized by chaos.

I worked hard enough in high school to earn a full scholarship to Michigan State University, and delighted in the opportunity to get away from the chaos that enveloped my home. One day in calculus class, I struck up a conversation with the girl sitting next to me, and she invited me to attend Mass. We went once or twice before the end of the semester, and then she graduated, and I stopped going.

For some reason, my interest in spirituality was rekindled during the end of my final semester at MSU, and I started going to Mass again. As I figured, I was baptized Catholic, and therefore I should worship as a Catholic. This may come as no surprise to anyone who’s struggled to remain Catholic on campus, but I was scandalized by what took place in that chapel. The very first Sunday I was back, the priest stepped aside and allowed a female Methodist minister in rainbow-colored vestments deliver the homily. Things were being preached that I knew were contrary to traditional Christian values, even though I’d never received a formal Christian education. I went back a few more times, and each time was equally as disgusted as the first.
After graduation, I decided to try the Catholic parish near my new home in suburban Detroit. When I went to Sunday Mass, I found a priest with a heavy Italian accent mumbling prayers to a bunch of gray-haired old women who looked half-asleep. I’d had it – I was done with Catholicism, whose adherents apparently had no idea what they believed and weren’t interested in sharing it anyways.

An old college buddy suggested that I try the Episcopal Church, which was, in his description, “Catholicism, only they let women be priests.” That sounded agreeable to my non-theologically-astute brain, so I decided to look into my local Episcopal parish. At first glance, the contrast between it and the Catholic parishes I’d attended couldn’t have been starker. People were warm, friendly and interested in greeting this newcomer. The folks in the pews actually prayed and sang like they meant it! I became deeply involved in this parish as a counter, usher and chorister, and thought I’d be there for life – it felt like home.

Some young ladies from my parish recommended a young adult retreat, and this is where I met my wife, and this is where the journey really begins.

At the invitation of a friend from my Episcopal parish, I started attending a ‘non-denominational’ Bible study called BSF. Over time, it became apparent that the teachings of my beloved Episcopal Church didn’t align with the teachings of scripture, particularly in areas related to sexuality. I discussed these matters with my new girlfriend, and we decided together that we needed to look for another church. At first, we tried a ‘traditional’ Episcopal parish, but they were more interested in liturgy than doctrinal fidelity. Then, we tried a Lutheran-Missouri Synod church I heard about on the radio and it was there that my wife and I made our initial commitments to Christ (hers during a Sunday morning service, and mine while attending a massive Promise Keepers event in Washington, DC).

In time, we joined the Baptist church that was hosting my Bible study, and after we were married, we received ‘believer’s baptism,’ as they believe infant baptisms are invalid, and merely a public declaration of an individual’s desire to follow Christ. We fell completely in love with Jesus Christ and the church we were attending, and became involved in everything from children’s ministry to choir. Again, we felt like we’d finally found our home as Christians.

Our first child was born in 1999, and by mid-2000, it became apparent that he had serious developmental problems. One day while picking up our son from the church nursery, my wife noticed that the teacher was trying to get Jacob’s attention by clapping her hands next to his head, and speaking in an inappropriately loud voice. This woman had determined that our son had problems, and that we weren’t doing anything about it, and proceeded to issue her diagnosis to my wife. When my wife explained that we were in the process of having him evaluated, the lady ignored us and continued to dispense advice on how we should proceed with our son. This disrespect, combined with some problems that had started to pop up in the Sunday school program (I was leading 3^rd and 4^th graders at the time), prompted us to search for another church home. We started at a local megachurch, and remained there for just about two years, until just after the birth of our third child, when some problems we started noticing in the Sunday school program prompted us to return to the Baptist church we had been attending.

Eventually, this church morphed from a non-denominational, independent Baptist congregation into a generic suburban megachurch that dropped the word ‘Baptist’ from its name in order to avoid offending anyone who attached negative connotations to it. Sunday school was becoming increasingly frustrating for our two oldest children, who by now had both been diagnosed with forms of autism. In particular, our 2^nd-oldest, who has Asperger syndrome, is profoundly affected by anxiety and depression, and is practically incapable of leaving the house.

We started to notice a change in the way our friends approached us. People who started out as close confidants and spiritual partners started taking pity on us by offering us charity, and started pulling away from us in social situations. When we compared our pastor’s teachings on suffering to what’s written about the subject in the Bible, we found some serious inconsistencies that may lead one to believe that my wife and I were being punished for some unconfessed sin. One Sunday, we would hear that it was a privilege to suffer hardship, as it was proof that you were truly a Christian, and the next, we would hear that suffering hardship was always an indication that you had to find out what sins you had failed to confess. It seems that our friends assumed the latter (especially considering we had left their congregation for a time), and thus it became difficult or even dangerous for them to socialize with us. We had never felt as lonely or abandoned in our lives as Christians.

During a visit to our home one evening, a friend from our autism support group told us about all the support her parish had given her and her family as they struggled to cope with high medical bills (autism therapies aren’t typically covered by medical insurance). It was then that I decided I needed to study Catholicism, as I’d gotten some rather strange ideas about the Church during my years as an evangelical Protestant. I started thinking back to the people who showed us friendship as we struggled the most with our children’s developmental problems, and although we’d gotten quite a bit of material help from our evangelical friends, the ones who were most supportive emotionally were Catholics (some fallen away, some cafeteria, but nonetheless Catholics).

I started reading books and listening to Catholic radio with the intention of learning why I had these observations, and also admittedly with the goal of ‘witnessing’ my Catholic neighbors out of their false religious system. The further I looked into the faith, the more intrigued I became with its teachings and how they accorded with the Bible and the teachings of the early Christians. I tore through “Born Fundamentalist, Born Again Catholic,” and when I mentioned this to my pastor, he cautioned me not to take the claims of the book uncritically, since some people he’s known have converted after having read it. It was then that he recommended Loraine Boettner’s infamous “Roman Catholicism” as the definitive work on the Catholic Church. It didn’t take much searching on the internet before I discovered the disdain with which this book is regarded in both mainstream Protestantism and Catholicism.

As time passed, I couldn’t reconcile certain teachings of our church with the Bible, and yet I still struggled with quite a few of the claims of the Catholic Church. One of my major sticking points revolved around the authority of the Church, particularly in reference to errant priests and bishops (and there’s a local bishop of particular note in liberal dissident circles), the lack of assent to the basic teachings of the Church evident in the lives of so many Catholics I’ve known (including the worst examples – college classmates who went to Catholic school and lived lives without the slightest regard to Catholic moral teaching). I figured that this authority must be illusory, otherwise such errant Catholics would’ve been booted from the Church without question (as I was comparing it to our church, in which errant pastors were summarily fired). Somewhere along the line, this objection was met, by many faithful Catholics on these forums (primarily Church Militant) and elsewhere by reminding me that Jesus chose Judas, and he eventually betrayed him.

We joined RCIA in fall 2005 with the goal of learning more about the Church, to see whether some of our lingering doubts about Church teaching would be answered (and these doubts included the teachings on artificial contraception, what appeared to be excessive and unbiblical devotions to Mary, and problems with the exercise of Church discipline against dissident clergy). Instead, we were treated to earfuls of private revelations (many of which have been condemned by local bishops or simply not approved by the Vatican), lack of knowledge of scripture (at one point, a cradle Catholic classmate told my wife that she was going to shoot straight up to heaven because of her ability to quote scripture), and folk theology treated as official Church teaching. We felt stuck between two worlds – we were no longer comfortable as evangelicals, but couldn’t accept that an ordained member of the clergy – in this case, the deacon teaching our RCIA course – could be so off-base and unknowledgeable about Catholic teaching. We dropped out of RCIA and stayed, rather unhappily, at our evangelical church, especially as the teachings from the pulpit conflicted with what we knew of historical and Biblical Christianity through our studies of Catholicism.

After much prayer, we decided to consult with the pastor of the parish at which we’d been attending RCIA, and he agreed to allow us to receive private instruction in the faith, with the goal of being received into the Church at the next convenient time. Our 4^th child was born last June, and there were complications with the birth, so I asked the priest if he wouldn’t mind visiting my wife in the hospital, and he agreed. In his conversation with my wife, he decided that we were ready to be received into the Church, and arranged for a bishop to confirm us last September. Our children followed us into the Church by being baptized last October. We’re home at last!

In concluding, I would like to say a few words about one of the most compelling aspects of Catholicism – the reality of redemptive suffering. Evangelicals in the pews often get inconsistent messages on the topic from well-meaning and generally compassionate pastors, but unfortunately these pastors don’t realize the confusion they’re causing in the heads of their followers. For example, from our former pastor, I heard sermons in which he described suffering as the mark of a true believer – that is, if you’re not suffering something, then you’d better look at your relationship with Christ and see what’s wrong. More frequently, I heard the following: that if you’re suffering, then your relationship with God isn’t right, and you’d better figure out what sin God is trying to root out of your life through it.

Consider these two takes on suffering in relation to the disabilities of my children. In the context of the more-frequent of my former pastor’s explanations of suffering, I was to conclude that God had stuck my children with autistic spectrum disorders as a way to help me see my sins. The obvious question becomes, “What kind of God would punish others because of my sins?”

The concept of redemptive suffering is something I only discovered when I started looking into the teachings and history of the Catholic Church. Though I’m still learning what it means to “offer it up,” something Catholics often tell each other when they’re facing trials, I can appreciate the concept in light of this passage from St. Paul’s letter to the Colossians, chapter 1, verses 24-26a (NAB): “Now I rejoice in my sufferings for your sake, and in my flesh I am filling up what is lacking in the afflictions of Christ on behalf of his body, which is the church, of which I am a minister in accordance with God’s stewardship given to me to bring to completion for you the word of God, the mystery hidden from ages and from generations past.” In other words, I could see that my sufferings, properly considered, could benefit the Church in ways I may never understand, but that are thoroughly Biblical. What an amazing concept!

1. Our oldest, 8-year old J., is being tested for a hormonal problem that affects his body’s ability to absorb water. This condition, known as diabetes insipidus, causes the kidneys to filter too much water, causing uncontrollable thirst and frequent urination. There are two forms of this disorder: in the first type, the body doesn’t produce enough of the hormone that controls this process, and in the second type, the kidneys don’t respond to the hormone at all. We’d like our friends to pray for J., his doctor, and all those involved in the diagnostic process.
2. We’re going to have to make a decision about L.’s education. Mrs. DJ met with a group of school officials last week, and she’s not at all pleased with what they’re proposing to offer. Some on the team even recommended that we homeschool her for at least part of the day, and I’ve never heard a public school teacher make such a recommendation (setting aside for now that such a recommendation is a violation of the Individuals with Disabilities Education Act, which requires that special-needs children be provided a “free and appropriate public education.”) There’s nothing individualized or appropriate in what they’ve offered, so we now need to decide whether to take up the fight and force them to adhere to their legal obligation to educate our daughter, or take the path of least resistance and continue homeschooling her. Please pray that Mrs. DJ and I will make the decision that best fits our daughter’s needs.

Thanks!

“You expired, Jesus, but the source of life gushed forth for souls, and the ocean of mercy opened up for the whole world. O Fount of Life, unfathomable Divine Mercy, envelop the whole world and empty Yourself out upon us. O Blood and Water, which gushed forth from the Heart of Jesus as a fountain of Mercy for us, I trust in You!”

I wonder why this profound and beautiful prayer wasn’t included in my Divine Mercy prayer book. I had to search the ‘net to find it.