Biography

I started out as a "liberal" intellectual who was prejudiced against Christianity. I had been taught to believe that Christians were gullible people who were either stupid or uneducated. I was basically an agnostic who didn't know or care whether God existed. For me, the idea of God was irrelevant. I looked to science, psychology, and politics to save mankind from its problems.

During my senior year in high school, I fell in love with a young man who was a devout Catholic. That was my first encounter with someone who strongly believed in God. I may have met Christians before that, but they didn't make their Christian beliefs known to me. This young man prayed. He was a man of integrity. His life was guided by his religious beliefs. He had a kind of compassion and respect for people that I had not seen before. I wanted it. I figured that it had something to do with his religion, so I started taking instruction in Catholicism. The young man moved away, but I continued studying Catholicism.

During my first year of college I went to a local priest every week for instruction. Under his direction, I studied many books including the "Baltimore Catechism" and biographies of well known modern Catholics. (This was in the days of the Latin Mass, before there was a formal catechumen program.) I was unable to return to college the following year. I found another priest and continued studying Catholicism. The priest gave me books to study including a series of booklets on Scripture. (There was a booklet for each book of the Bible. On each page, the top half of the page contained Scripture and the bottom half contained a Catholic commentary about those portions of Scripture.) My job was close to a Catholic Church, and I went to Mass during lunch hour. I prayed for God to give me faith. I was praying even though I wasn't sure that God existed. My very first prayer was, "God, if You're out there, show me." I didn't take communion because I wasn't a Catholic. I only said as much of the Apostles Creed as I actually believed. It was a long time before I could even say the opening phrase, "I believe in God".

After several years I was baptized a Roman Catholic. Soon afterwards, my brother also became a Catholic. His instruction was through group classes. I attended those classes with him. I was hungry to learn anything that I could about God.

I went to a Catholic college and majored in Religious Education. My classes on Scripture taught a lot of modern "higher criticism," and some of my Religious Education teachers taught things that seemed to be contrary to the official teachings of the Catholic Church. I found a conservative priest and I checked teachings out with him to see if they were the official teaching of the Catholic Church. Because I no longer trusted the teachings of the Religious Education department, I changed majors.

When I entered the convent, I was careful to choose a conservative one which followed the official teachings of the Catholic Church. My training for religious life included studying the documents of the Second Vatican Counsel, other books relating to Catholic doctrine, and biographies of well known saints.

I spent over two years as a postulant and a novice. This was a time of testing for the leaders of the convent, and for me, to decide whether or not I should make vows. My mother superior had some questions about my calling, and she and the leadership decided that I should not remain in the convent. I left the convent on good terms and have occasionally been in contact with the sisters since then.

Our mother superior was very careful about which priests she allowed to say Mass at our convent. We had priests who were loyal to God and to the Catholic Church. They believed the Bible. They were faithful men. When I left the convent and went to live with my parents, I couldn't find priests like that. The local priests seemed to have little faith and little loyalty, either to God or to the Catholic Church. I remember one Mass where the homily (a short sermon) was so distressing that I left in tears. I stayed outside, weeping. But then I went back in, in order to take communion. I tried every Catholic church in town, but I couldn't find a good priest.

I vividly remember a priest who was spoke about Luke 7:38-50. This was the time when Jesus ate in the home of a Pharisee and a woman came and wept and washed Jesus' feet with her tears, and dried them with her hair, and anointed them with ointment. The Pharisee was critical. Jesus told him that he had not washed Jesus' feet, but the woman did. He had not greeted Jesus with a kiss, but the woman kissed his feet. The Catholic priest said that this event must not have really happened, because it would be rude for a guest to say something like that to his host, and Jesus would never have been rude. This illustrates an attitude towards Scripture which I encountered with a number of priests. It was very distressing.

Meanwhile, my parents had become Christians. They attended a Protestant church where the pastor believed the Bible and loved the people. Because the local Catholic churches were distressing, I started doing the splits. I went to early morning Mass and then I attended my parents' church. I did the splits for years.

I made myself go to Mass out of duty. But I went to my parents' church eagerly. I learned exciting things about the Bible there. I sang songs that stirred my soul. I took classes that made me more and more hungry for Scripture. I got to know people who were enthusiastic about God. I learned that Biblical principles really work, and that they make a significant practical difference in real life situations.

As I learned more about the Bible, I began to realize that some Catholic teachings are contrary to Scripture. This was disturbing, but I kind of pushed those contradictions to the back of my mind and didn't deal with them. They made me uneasy, but I wasn't emotionally able to handle the idea that there might be something wrong with the Catholic Church.

My brother was a devout Catholic. He assisted the priests at Mass for many years. He lived several hours' drive away from us. We had a tradition that on Easter and Christmas, he would come visit and we would go to Midnight Mass together.

One Christmas, at Midnight Mass, the priest taught that the Christmas story as presented in the Bible is basically a pious fairy tale to make people feel good, but it has nothing to do with reality. My brother got so angry that he wanted to jump up and shout, "Are we here to celebrate it or to debate it?"

The next day, we went to church with our parents. The pastor there told us that Daniel had been in charge of the "wise men" of Babylon (magi). Therefore, they knew about Baalam's prophecy that the King of the Jews would be heralded by a star. Their religion included watching the stars for signs. So when they saw the special star, they realized that it signalled the coming of this special King of the Jews. Also, one of their functions was to decide who the valid king was if there was a controversy about it. So when they came to confirm that Jesus was truly the King of the Jews, they were fulfilling their official function.

Needless to say, the contrast was striking. And troubling. I did a lot of praying after that. By the following Easter, I had left the Catholic Church and joined my parents' church.

I didn't know what to tell my brother and his wife, because they were coming to visit at Easter, and I did not want to go to Midnight Mass with them. We had a long, awkward telephone conversation. Then I finally told them. They started laughing. They had also left the Catholic Church, and were in the process of visiting different churches, trying to find a church home.

There was a prayer that had a major impact on my life, but I don't remember the exact words. When I prayed it, I was crying and I didn't know why. And afterwards, things were different, but it's hard to put into words. The prayer was something like this:

"Jesus, I want to know You. Please reveal Yourself to me and make the Bible come alive for me. I want to be clean and start over again. Please forgive my sins. Wash them away and set me free. I want to live right. Please change my heart. Help me love what You love, and turn away from things that displease You. You know what's best for me. I want to do things Your way. Please be the Lord of my life. Teach me to love the way You love. Help me be faithful to You. Thank You for loving me and for hearing this prayer. Thank You for being my Lord and my Saviour."

Since then I have been struggling with issues related to Catholicism. This book emerged from that struggle. In addition to being a former nun, I am also a widow. My husband and I were very close, and his death introduced me to a level of emotional pain that I didn't know was possible. But God is faithful.