I grew up in church. I went to church from the time I was a baby until highschool with two of my three best friends. (My other best friend is Presbyterian) We attended Sunday school, vacation bible school, programs etc. I am thankful for the foundation my parents gave me. In my world view my parents (the domestic church) did a great job of teaching me the greatest commandment: love. I know they loved me and my hard-headed, meanie of a brother. They taught us to love and help others that might be less fortunate. However at one point I strayed from that foundation. All through college I knew that I should be going to church regardless of my hangover. Though I felt the need to spread my wings I always felt guilty about many of the decisions I made. That guilt turned into shame and after awhile I didn't see the need for church. Besides, I would go and have some overly cheerful woman, shake my hand, ask me 21 questions and then not bother with anything beyond that. You know the formal niceness we often see on a Sunday morning. In fact I specifically remember telling my dad I didn't want to attend a mega-church where no one knows me. He replied "If you go then they will know you." yea yea yea....
When Steven and I were dating I remember asking him if he had ever considered another church. (He was and still is Catholic) I asked for my own justification. I didn't like the church(es) I had grown up in. As a pre-teen feeling totally insecure in who I was anyway, something about sitting in the pew with a preacher having an open altar call for 25 minutes because "...someone here today is LOST!..." just wasn't appealing anymore. There had to be a different way to do church. A different way to serve and worship on Sundays and in life in general.
After we were married (in a Catholic church) I began actually listening to things that went on during mass and I began asking questions. The main question was "Why?". Why does the priest do this? Why does that hang there? Why don't people yell amen and why isn't the deacon read faced when reading the scripture or giving a homily. Also a relative of Steven's told me I should read Mere Christianity by C.S. Lewis. This book brought me back. It made the case that I was no accident and nobody is. There is a fundamental golden rule and it doesn't come from animal instinct but from a higher power. I began to find comfort and what I view as knowledge. A new side of religion that doesn't involve smoke and mirrors, guilt or repenting. Strange I know that I would find those things in a church known for it's "guilt". But after learning about the order of mass I didn't feel guilt. I felt welcome. I felt open arms. I heard messages to apply to my life. I felt secure. I felt God. As opposed to several years of the feeling "I know I'm supposed to feel God. I know I'm supposed to have a certain response but that response didn't feel like who I was or who God had made me."
Now a full-fledged practicing Catholic I can honestly say that I am home. I feel a renewed faith after every mass. I have direction on how to practice my faith. This being my first Lenten season as a Catholic makes me feel very connected to my Lord. For 40 days we are called to make a sacrifice (determined by the individual) and I can honestly say that every time my sacrifice is made I am reminded of the sacrifices Christ made for me and my crutch suddenly seems so ridiculous and minuscule in the grand scheme of things. Christ has called us to take up our cross daily and Lent is a time to remember that and why. Whether you are Catholic or not I encourage you to make a small sacrifice and see where it brings you with your walk with God. For my it has brought me home and it's such a wonderful feeling/fact that I pray it for everyone.
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