Posted on 06/02/2007 12:50:30 PM PDT by Titanites
I was baptized on April 29, 1973, in East Paris Christian Reformed Church in Grand Rapids, Michigan. My religious upbringing until college was completely CRC; my schooling through college was in Christian schools sponsored by the CRC. I can’t say that I was aware of any Protestant denominations other than the CRC. The first time I heard the words of the "Hail Mary" was from the lips of my CRC minister during a high-school catechism class. My only other contact would have been the pictures of the seven Catholic sacraments in the family encyclopedia. In many ways this "cloistered" upbringing was a great blessing to me later on: I grew up free from any anti-Catholic prejudices, and so there was no anti-Catholic bigotry on my part that had to be overcome before my conversion.
When I was about twelve, my mother made me a brown, terrycloth bathrobe. My family had a tradition of going camping every year, and there were sand dunes behind the campground. I can remember vividly pacing up and down these sand dunes in my brown bathrobe, pretending to be a monk. I could have had no idea at that age what a monk was (perhaps I got the idea from television), but there I was, in my robe, walking in my "desert."
I went to a "Bible camp" for a number of years as a child. I remember one summer sitting around the campfire singing the simple song, "God is so good." And for some reason, I started crying. The simple words of that little song caused a disproportionate reaction in me. I was crying because God was good and I was not. But I was also crying because God is good, and the simple beauty of that thought overwhelmed me. I felt that God was really present to me at that moment.
There is only one other time I have felt that presence in any similar way. It must have been my junior year in high school. My brother and I went before the elders of our CRC church to make profession of faith (something like the sacrament of confession, although the CRC doesn’t believe that the profession of faith is sacramental).
Profession of faith is a two-stage process: First, the elders of the church quiz you about what you believe and tell you if you "made it" or not; and then, on the next Sunday, you stand before the entire congregation and "profess your faith." After the quizzing, my brother and I had been sent out for the elders to deliberate, and then we were called back into the meeting room and told that our professions before the elders had been accepted.
One of the elders reminded the pastor that it was customary to sing in thanksgiving at this point the song "Praise God from Whom All Blessings Flow." As we started singing, I got to thinking how the faith I had just professed was the same as the faith of these fifty- and sixty-year-old men around me. Even more than that, I could see with the eye of my imagination all the saints of the ages past together with us, looking on that little room and praising God with us. And if I had felt the presence of God that time at camp, what I was feeling now was the presence of God through the communion of the saints.
Like all good CRC kids, after high school I went to Calvin College in Grand Rapids, Michigan. (I think I may have applied to one or two other places, but only pro forma; Calvin was where I wanted to go.) Due to a couple things that had happened the summer before, I chose pre-seminary as my major and then changed it to classical languages and theology. My idea was to become not a pastor but a "pastor to pastors"—a professor of Church history in a seminary.
During my first year at Calvin, my interest in monasticism resurfaced, mostly through the coming to Calvin of a couple of brothers from the Taizé community. This community is an ecumenical monastery in France (founded by a small group of men from the French Reformed tradition) whose primary work is prayer for reconciliation. When the two brothers came to Calvin, we had a chance to talk to them, and they also let a Taizé-style prayer service: very simple and beautiful, with scriptural refrains sung repeatedly.
The summer after my first year at Calvin, some friends of mine and I went to a larger meeting in Dayton, Ohio, and got to see the founder of Taizé, Brother Roger. I don’t know if you can see holiness in someone, but if so, I saw it in the eyes of Brother Roger.
During that weekend, my friends and I were walking around Dayton, and I just happened to duck into a church for a while. It had to have been a Catholic church, but I don’t think I realized it at the time. As anyone who knows me can verify, I have a weakness for church literature racks. In this church I saw a pile of little baggies on a table and took one; I don’t remember if I opened it before or after I got out of the church. But inside were a small plastic rosary, a few pamphlets, and some other items. I put the whole thing in my pocket and thought nothing of it.
When I returned to Calvin in the fall, I began using the crucifix on that rosary during my devotions (which consisted of reading through the Psalms on a thirty-day cycle) as a way of centering my eyes and my thoughts on the God. Before I left Calvin, I was praying the rosary—I may be the only person who has prayed a rosary in the prayer rooms in Calvin’s chapel—but I’m getting a bit ahead of myself.
During my first year or so at Calvin, I grew to be a good friend of the college chaplain. My sophomore year I think it was, Chaplain Cooper asked me to join a group he had formed that got together each week to read and discuss a section from the Institutes of John Calvin. With my own interest in theology, I ate up everything we were reading. This was at last something to really sink my intellectual teeth into.
The first semester of my junior year at Calvin, a couple of interesting things happened. One day coming home from my CRC church, I happened to catch the last part of the local televised Catholic Mass. More interesting to me than the Mass was the little ten-minute discussion show afterwards, where a priest and another fellow were discussing the Catholic teaching on Mary. I was kind of interested, so I wrote to the address given at the end of the program, and the priest-host of the show sent me a copy of the text they had been discussing—chapter eight of Lumen Gentium, one of the documents of the Second Vatican Council. It was interesting, but at the time it didn’t make a big impression on me.
Another interesting thing that year was a class I was taking in the fall semester on early and medieval theology. In the course of one semester we were supposed to read two thousand pages—although I don’t think even the professor did— and cover fifteen hundred years of Christian history, from the apostolic Fathers to Erasmus. Two authors I read in that class really captured my imagination. I say now that Irenaeus of Lyons introduced me to the beauty of the Catholic faith, and Thomas Aquinas introduced me to its lucidity.
Also around that time I became a friend with a fellow in that class who had converted from the CRC to the Episcopal Church. I started going with him to the Wednesday night services at the local Episcopal parish, which introduced me to a liturgical form of worship. (Later, perhaps in the spring of my junior year, I even had the Episcopal priest bless the brown scapular that was also in the baggie from Dayton. He didn’t know what a brown scapular was, but he blessed it anyway. I still wear the scapular, now properly blessed and imposed by a Catholic priest.)
The defining moment in my conversion came in January of my junior year, if I remember correctly. Around that time I was reading Peter Kreeft’s Fundamentals of the Faith, but that wasn’t really what did it. The first major impetus in my decision for Catholicism came from a passage in John Calvin. The discussion group I mentioned had come to the section in the Institutes where Calvin gives a number of reasons why a group may break from the Church and go into schism. And as the discussion progressed that evening, a question occurred to me. I asked it: "Granted that these are the reasons Calvin gives for going into schism, what happens if, by the grace of God, the church you broke away from should repair the error that was the occasion for the schism? Do you have then an obligation to rejoin the church you broke away from?"
Silence. We talked about it for a bit, but we didn’t come up with an answer. Chaplain Cooper didn’t have an answer. And that did not satisfy me, not one bit.
It was at that moment that, looking back on it, I can say that I started taking John 17 seriously. Here we see our Lord’s dying wish to his Father, as it were, that his followers be one (17:21). This is not some hypothetical, invisible unity, but a unity so real that the only model for it our Lord uses is his own unity with the Father. And I began thinking to myself: If unity among his followers was the last wish of the one I call Savior and Lord, I had better do everything in my power to fulfill it.
So I began reading about Catholicism. I wrote to the priest-host of the show I mentioned and also to Peter Kreeft—the only graduate from Calvin that I knew of who had converted to Catholicism. Both gave me good lists of books that I began reading, and I found others on my own. Two of the most influential books I read were John Henry Cardinal Newman’s Essay on the Development of Christian Doctrine and Francis de Sales’s Catholic Controversies. The first has a marvelous passage connecting all of Christian doctrine to the fundamental belief in the Incarnation; the second raised the all-important question, granting that the Church needed reform at the time of the Reformation, who gave the Reformers the authority to do what they did?
In all this study, I was finding that one of three things was true. (1) The Catholic Church teaches what I already believe, for example, the articles of the Apostles’ Creed. (2) The Catholic teaching was a logical extension of what I already believed. For example: Because of the communion of the saints, I can ask you or any other Christian here on earth to pray for me. Well then, why can’t I ask for Mary or one of the other saints in heaven to pray for me? (3) There were a very limited number of instances where the Catholic Church taught differently than what I believed as a Reformed Protestant, and in each case the Catholic Church was right. For example, I came to reject Calvin’s teaching on double predestination.
By my senior year at Calvin I was more or less a Catholic in my convictions. I was simply waiting for the right time to convert. I chose to go to Notre Dame to do my graduate work because it is a Catholic school (and again, it was really my only choice). But for my first year there, I was still waiting. What really made me decide to take the plunge, so to speak, was a conversation I had with a Protestant friend in the spring of my first year in South Bend.
Because I usually wear my heart on my sleeve, this friend and I had gotten to talking about my journey toward Catholicism. I began explaining the Catholic position on the subject of the Eucharist to my friend, based on John 6. I talked about how the first part of the chapter demonstrates that Jesus can do miraculous things with bread (John 6:1–14). The second part (John 6:15–21) shows us that Jesus can do miraculous things with his body. And then we get to the Bread of Life discourse, which concludes with the promise of the Eucharist.
At some point in the conversation, it was like my mouth went on autopilot. Outside, I was still talking; but inside, I was thinking to myself, "You know, I really believe this stuff." I realized that Catholicism was no longer for me a clever intellectual system; I had received the gift of supernatural faith. And so I decided then and there that I would enter the Catholic Church the next school year (for reasons I won’t go into, I had already decided to go through an RCIA program when the time came, so I had to wait for the next "rotation"). On Holy Thursday, March 27, 1997, I became a member of the Catholic Church and received my first Holy Communion, and two days later during the Easter Vigil was confirmed Catholic, taking Irenaeus as my confirmation patron.
It was only looking back on everything a few years later that I noticed how Mary had been with me throughout the whole process, leading me in her own subtle, humble way to deeper intimacy with her Son. She had been named in the Hail Mary that my Protestant pastor had spoken those many years ago. It was her rosary that I discovered in Dayton. It was Lumen Gentium, chapter eight—some of the most beautiful words the Church has ever spoken about our Lady—that put me in contact with a Catholic priest for the first time. And it was at the University of Notre Dame, our Lady’s university, that I was received into the Catholic Church.
Of course, my journey with God continues to be written, and I still struggle to know and do God’s will. But I cannot imagine my life without being a Catholic. John 17:21 still haunts me, and I still wish for everyone to experience the fullness of the Christian faith, the fullness I now possess. With the words of Paul, I conclude, "Not that I have already obtained this or am already perfect; but I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me his own" (Phil. 3:12).
God is not the author of sin. I agree.
The sin of the garden, however, was part of creation...and God knew it ahead of time.
If by this you mean that God is the final cause of everything, then there should be no problem. But if you mean that God is the proximate cause of everything, then there is a problem. For the latter would imply that God Himself is causing my fingers to type this post, which is not true. It is the latter view which leads to strange doctrines implying lack of free-will and such.
Yes, and this does not imply, in any way, that God caused it, or that Adam didn't freely choose it.
You're getting that argument from that kooky libertarian (ex?)Freeper who used to capitalize all the nouns in his posts. What was his name again?
His name was orthodox presbyterian. OP never believed that God authored sin. In short, I’d say he believes the sin was planned by God, BUT that the humans did make their own choices.
If conversion stories and personal testimonies irritate you so, may I suggest that the more appropriate response is not to read them rather than to whine about them.
Well, it must be God leading him away, since he has no free will.
Ears to hear said in this thread that God is the 1st cause of every event. Therefore, God caused them to sin. Which means they were not free to either sin or not sin.
God is the first cause of everything, therefore he’s the first cause of every event.
However, eth is probably referring to God’s plan. He authored it. It included the fall.
However, the author of a book is not liable for the acts that the characters in the book commit. They commit their own acts IF they are free. And these characters were free.
Calvinists believe that humans have free will. They just think that they’ll always without fail use that free will unwisely.
That is in stark contrast to much of what has been said on this thread.
That’s an ambiguously simplistic explanation, friend.
I was trying to write it correctly, fru.
If you wish to correct something, then do so. I’ll learn thereby.
That's a rather convenient lie. Always amusing to see someone declare something "lazy" when they're too lazy themselves when it comes to actually discussing it.
Does a depraved repeat pedophiliac have free will even if stats say that he’ll repeat his offense?
Discuss the issues all you want, but do not make it personal.
We have a pattern here.
1. We do not worship Mary. We only ask her to intercede on our behalf.
Actually, you DO "worship" her, you're just ever so careful to make the distinction between dulia and hyper-dulia.
2. Our basis for papal infallability is Biblical. It’s an interpretation, but it is based on Scripture.
I always love this one. Using sola scriptura to undermine sola scriptura. Priceless :)
3. Our basis for the Eucharist is also Biblical, but IMO, it’s not at all an interpretation. It’s a hard, cold fact straight from Christ Himself.
See how quickly interpretation suddenly becomes cold, hard, undeniable fact when you make the error in #2?
Hey no price gouging!
OP is a FReeper in good standing, who took a break from FReeping for awhile. I do that sometimes.
Xzins is correct: God is not the direct Author of Sin. Because it was the Father's Plan from all Eternity to glorify the Son as Creator, Redeemer, and Judge, it was necessary to permit an Antithesis to enter Creation so that the Son would have something to Redeem Creation from (and to be glorified as Judge of that Antithesis): i.e., freely-willed Sin.
I hope that explains my position, and I certainly hope I capitalized enough Nouns for everyone's liking. ;-)
John
Chapter 6
30 So they said to him, “What sign can you do, that we may see and believe in you? What can you do?
31 Our ancestors ate manna in the desert, as it is written: ‘He gave them bread from heaven to eat.’”
32 So Jesus said to them, “Amen, amen, I say to you, it was not Moses who gave the bread from heaven; my Father gives you the true bread from heaven.
33 For the bread of God is that which comes down from heaven and gives life to the world.”
34 So they said to him, “Sir, give us this bread always.”
35 Jesus said to them, “I am the bread of life; whoever comes to me will never hunger, and whoever believes in me will never thirst.
36 But I told you that although you have seen (me), you do not believe.
37 Everything that the Father gives me will come to me, and I will not reject anyone who comes to me,
38 because I came down from heaven not to do my own will but the will of the one who sent me.
39 And this is the will of the one who sent me, that I should not lose anything of what he gave me, but that I should raise it (on) the last day.
40 For this is the will of my Father, that everyone who sees the Son and believes in him may have eternal life, and I shall raise him (on) the last day.”
41 The Jews murmured about him because he said, “I am the bread that came down from heaven,”
42 and they said, “Is this not Jesus, the son of Joseph? Do we not know his father and mother? Then how can he say, ‘I have come down from heaven’?”
43 Jesus answered and said to them, “Stop murmuring 18 among yourselves.
44 No one can come to me unless the Father who sent me draw him, and I will raise him on the last day.
45 It is written in the prophets: ‘They shall all be taught by God.’ Everyone who listens to my Father and learns from him comes to me.
46 Not that anyone has seen the Father except the one who is from God; he has seen the Father.
47 Amen, amen, I say to you, whoever believes has eternal life.
48 I am the bread of life.
49 Your ancestors ate the manna in the desert, but they died;
50 this is the bread that comes down from heaven so that one may eat it and not die.
51 I am the living bread that came down from heaven; whoever eats this bread will live forever; and the bread that I will give is my flesh for the life of the world.”
52 The Jews quarreled among themselves, saying, “How can this man give us (his) flesh to eat?”
53 Jesus said to them, “Amen, amen, I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you do not have life within you.
54 Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him on the last day.
55 For my flesh is true food, and my blood is true drink.
56 Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood remains in me and I in him.
57 Just as the living Father sent me and I have life because of the Father, so also the one who feeds on me will have life because of me.
58 This is the bread that came down from heaven. Unlike your ancestors who ate and still died, whoever eats this bread will live forever.”
59 These things he said while teaching in the synagogue in Capernaum.
60 Then many of his disciples who were listening said, “This saying is hard; who can accept it?”
61 Since Jesus knew that his disciples were murmuring about this, he said to them, “Does this shock you?
62 What if you were to see the Son of Man ascending to where he was before?
63 It is the spirit that gives life, while the flesh is of no avail. The words I have spoken to you are spirit and life.
64 But there are some of you who do not believe.” Jesus knew from the beginning the ones who would not believe and the one who would betray him.
65 And he said, “For this reason I have told you that no one can come to me unless it is granted him by my Father.”
66 As a result of this, many (of) his disciples returned to their former way of life and no longer accompanied him.
67 Jesus then said to the Twelve, “Do you also want to leave?”
68 Simon Peter answered him, “Master, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life.
69 We have come to believe and are convinced that you are the Holy One of God.”
70 Jesus answered them, “Did I not choose you twelve? Yet is not one of you a devil?”
71 He was referring to Judas, son of Simon the Iscariot; it was he who would betray him, one of the Twelve.
Luke Ch 22
15 He said to them, “I have eagerly desired to eat this Passover 5 with you before I suffer,
16 for, I tell you, I shall not eat it (again) until there is fulfillment in the kingdom of God.”
17 Then he took a cup, gave thanks, and said, “Take this and share it among yourselves;
18 for I tell you (that) from this time on I shall not drink of the fruit of the vine until the kingdom of God comes.”
19 7 Then he took the bread, said the blessing, broke it, and gave it to them, saying, “This is my body, which will be given for you; do this in memory of me.”
20 And likewise the cup after they had eaten, saying, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood, which will be shed for you.
21 “And yet behold, the hand of the one who is to betray me is with me on the table;
22 for the Son of Man indeed goes as it has been determined; but woe to that man by whom he is betrayed.”
23 And they began to debate among themselves who among them would do such a deed.
Mark Ch 14
22 While they were eating, he took bread, said the blessing, broke it, and gave it to them, and said, “Take it; this is my body.”
23 Then he took a cup, gave thanks, and gave it to them, and they all drank from it.
24 He said to them, “This is my blood of the covenant, which will be shed for many.
25 Amen, I say to you, I shall not drink again the fruit of the vine until the day when I drink it new in the kingdom of God.”
26 Then, after singing a hymn, 9 they went out to the Mount of Olives.
Matthew Ch 26
26 While they were eating, Jesus took bread, said the blessing, broke it, and giving it to his disciples said, “Take and eat; this is my body.”
27 Then he took a cup, gave thanks, 16 and gave it to them, saying, “Drink from it, all of you,
28 for this is my blood of the covenant, which will be shed on behalf of many for the forgiveness of sins.
29 I tell you, from now on I shall not drink this fruit of the vine until the day when I drink it with you new in the kingdom of my Father.”
30 Then, after singing a hymn, they went out to the Mount of Olives.
31 Then Jesus said to them, “This night all of you will have your faith in me shaken, 19 for it is written: ‘I will strike the shepherd, and the sheep of the flock will be dispersed’;
32 but after I have been raised up, I shall go before you to Galilee.”
Those verses are clearly allegories, or do you take everything in the Bible literally?
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