Growing up, I had two very distinct spiritual upbringings.
Before I turned eight, my family belonged to the Catholic Church. Both of my parents had grown up in Catholic homes, completed all of their Sacraments, and were married in the Church. But in the late 1990s, as my mother began digging deeper into her faith and my father was discovering his faith beyond the nominal sense, they decided it was time for a change.
We started attending a small Nazarene church in town. We all got “saved” and re-baptized. Summers were filled with church picnics, Vacation Bible School, and youth camps. We dove into Sunday school, youth group, and mission trips. We sang worship songs, drank grape juice, and built a community. I even went on to earn a degree in Religion from a large Protestant university.
It wasn’t until my early twenties, while serving as an international missionary, that I realized something was off. Traveling the world and hearing messages from pulpits in different countries, I began noticing a common thread — a subtle but persistent idea that the Gospel promised a life of ease: more wealth, more success, more blessings in every area of life. It was the prosperity gospel, and no matter where I went, it seemed to echo.
But the more I reflected on Jesus’ life and teachings, the more I realized:
the true wealth of the Gospel isn’t measured in money, status, or comfort. It’s found in peace, joy, love, and community — gifts that money can’t buy and circumstances can’t take away.
That realization sent me on my own search for truth — the same kind of search my parents had begun years before. While serving an extended term in Southeast Asia, I stumbled upon a small Catholic Church and decided to attend. I didn’t know it then, but that decision would change the entire trajectory of my life.
What I found there was something I didn’t even know I was missing:
a faith that was anchored, not drifting from one emotional high to another. A unity that spanned the globe — millions of believers praying the same Scriptures and worshipping in one voice. And most of all, a tangible, sacramental reality that took the mysteries of faith and placed them right in your hands.
The Catholic Church became home.
And coming home has made all the difference.
In the coming posts, I’ll share more about these revelations, the questions I wrestled with, and the beauty I’ve discovered in the Sacraments. But for now, I hope this gives you a glimpse into my journey — and why I believe what I believe.
Until next time,
May the Lord be with you.
0 Comments