By Michael Mason

Introduction

Anyone who has undergone a profound conversion will assuredly admit that the experience can be very unsettling. A religious conversion can be especially troubling, for it forces one to call into question the very foundations of one’s existence. If calling into question one’s philosophy of life is not difficult enough, religious conversions include social, emotional, political, and occasionally vocational repercussions that can be far-reaching. But as difficult as a conversion may be, I have been blessed to have undergone two in my life. Each conversion was united with a crisis of faith that forced me to reassess much of what I had come to believe was true. This is the story of how I passed from being a carefree college student to a committed Catholic.

Carefree College Student to Committed Christian

I was raised in a family that embraced the Christian faith. Though my parents believed that I should be given the opportunity to form my own opinion regarding the Christian faith, they frequently took my brother and me to the local Methodist church and encouraged us to attend confirmation class. Amid such a positive Christian witness, I eventually embraced the faith and was baptized and confirmed. Notwithstanding the general affinity I had for Christ and his message, I discontinued practicing my faith when I moved to a new town during my freshman year of high school. Though I retained many of the values instilled in me through confirmation, I chose to spend my time and energy living the life of a typical Midwestern kid. I was an honor-roll student who spent time with friends, played baseball and football, and did not give much thought to the perennial questions of man’s existence. When it came time for me to choose a university to continue my studies, I decided to pass on the opportunity to continue playing football at a small private school and chose to expand my horizons at Ohio University.

When I arrived on campus in the fall of 2000, I was determined to enjoy all the trappings of college life. Though class and study were a priority, I chose to spend the majority of my time exploring the nightlife at one of the top party schools in the country. Initially, the party lifestyle fulfilled all my expectations; nevertheless, by my junior year, my life of decadence began to take its toll. During my junior year, the nights I spent out on the town were followed by days filled with surges of overwhelming anxiety. Unexpectedly, my heart would begin to pound; I would begin to feel as if I were choking and eventually would feel as if I would pass out. Though these attacks filled me with terror, I could not bring myself to tell any of my friends or family. After three months of experiencing these attacks on a daily basis, I arrived at the conclusion that I must be going crazy. Eventually, I decided that I had to see a doctor.

As I tentatively sat across from a psychiatrist one cold and dreary March morning, I was convinced that I had lost my mind. When the doctor asked what brought me to the clinic, I confessed that I was going crazy. To my utter astonishment, he informed me that that was certainly not the case. Considering the fact that we had just met, I asked him how he could be so confident. He informed me that crazy people do not know they are crazy. The fact that I thought I was crazy was the clearest evidence that I was not. After talking for a few minutes, he informed me that I was suffering from panic attacks and the primary cause of this anxiety was the amount of alcohol I was consuming. Effectively, my body was going into shock when I eventually descended from the high associated with drinking copious amounts of alcohol. The counselor taught me some strategies to alleviate my anxiety when a panic attack ensued, offered to prescribe medication for me, and informed me that I would have to stop drinking so much. I declined to take medication, and though I knew that I should stop abusing alcohol, I was unwilling to do so. Hence, I decided to continue in my intemperate lifestyle and embrace the inevitable consequences. Fortunately, God had already begun orchestrating my deliverance from this licentiousness.

During my sophomore year, I was befriended by a girl named Korinne, who was involved in Campus Crusade for Christ. Though she and I did not share the same convictions, we developed a strong friendship. What impressed me the most about Korinne was her fun-loving disposition, her sense of purpose, and the joy she exuded. We regularly talked about the meaning of life, the existence of God, and the gospel. Though I believed that I was having more fun than Korinne, in time I began to realize that she was far happier than the people I met at parties and in bars. Though the rewards of the party lifestyle were instantaneous and powerful, eventually the life of decadence led only to heartbreak and despair. By the end of 2003, my anxiety attacks, my dissatisfaction with the party scene, and the overall meaninglessness of my life began to take their toll, and I realized that I needed a change. One cold, clear January morning in 2004, I sat in my room and read the parable of the sower in Matthew 13:1-23. As I sat and read this familiar passage, I was reminded that my proverbial soil was full of rocks and thorns. Though I always received the Word of God with joy, the worries and trappings of this life choked what God was trying to grow in my life. Notwithstanding my usual fatalistic reading of this passage, that morning a new possibility occurred to me. What if I was not destined ultimately to reject the Word of God time and time again? If I tilled the soil of my heart, would the seed of God’s Word grow and produce fruit? The Scriptures undeniably taught that God loved me and wanted me to know and love him in return. Other than myself, what could possibly keep me from him? At that moment, I committed myself to seeking God with my whole heart, mind, and strength, and if he was real, he would certainly reward my obedience. Later that day, I called Korinne and asked her to help me find a good Bible study.

From that point forward, I began to attend Campus Crusade for Christ meetings and Bible studies regularly, and I even attended a mission trip to Panama City Beach, Florida, during spring break. Gradually, I began to overcome many of my bad habits, and eventually the fruits of conversion began to emerge. Furthermore, for the first time in my life, I was confronted by young people who had purpose, fulfillment, and joy. The life and witness of these young people instilled in me a desire to have a personal relationship with Jesus Christ and to share the Good News with the world. I not only made incredible friends, but I also met my wife during that time. I found her to be beautiful, smart, fun, and completely committed to living her life in service of our Lord. Our relationship progressed quickly, and we both knew that we wanted to spend the rest of our lives using the tools we learned through Campus Crusade to reach out to the fallen world around us.

Filled with the zeal of a new convert, I set out to evangelize the world. I shared my newfound faith with family, friends, and strangers. The vast majority of the people I talked with were cordial, and their responses to my message ranged from intrigued to dismissive. However, I met some people who were very antagonistic to the faith, and they raised objections to the Christian faith that had not previously occurred to me. These people questioned the very tenets of Christianity, including the existence of God, the historicity of the Bible, and the Resurrection of Christ. Coinciding with these intellectual challenges was a spiritual trial: six months after my conversion, the initial thrill of it began to wane, and the challenge of living the Christian life become evident. It also became acutely apparent to me that if the Christian faith were not true, I would not be able to continue in it. During this budding crisis of faith, I graduated from college, took a position teaching eighth-grade language arts in Charlotte, North Carolina, and got married.

Our new life in Charlotte was a happy one, though various objections and doubts continued to plague my mind. One night, while reading a book by Norman Geisler, I discovered that he taught at an Evangelical seminary in Charlotte where one could get a master’s degree in Christian apologetics. I subsequently applied to Southern Evangelical Seminary and was accepted. My studies commenced in the summer of 2006, and thus began one of the best seasons of my life. I had the profound blessing to study philosophy and theology with professors and students who loved God, were passionate about Christ’s Great Commission to preach the gospel to the world (see Mt 28:18-20), and were not afraid to confront the most difficult questions of our time. The professors and students at Southern Evangelical Seminary encouraged me to think deeply and carefully about the Christian faith and instilled in me the value of study and prayer. They taught me to take the Bible seriously, to defend the historical Christian faith, and to read Saint Thomas Aquinas. Though I could not foresee it at the time, these invaluable lessons would eventually lead me to the second major conversion of my life.

My conversion to Christianity in college and my subsequent crisis of faith had led me to study philosophy and theology at Southern Evangelical Seminary. The relevant peace of mind that ensued was a welcome respite from the confusion and doubt that had plagued my mind during the latter years of my undergraduate studies. I learned that there were compelling arguments for God’s existence and that the objections that critics raised against the possibility of miracles, the Resurrection of Christ, and the reliability of the Bible quickly lost all rhetorical force when one understood the philosophical assumptions on which they were built. However, I also began to notice troublesome issues in the theology and apologetics that I was being taught. Initially, I attributed them to my lack of theological vision, but the longer I studied at Southern Evangelical Seminary, the more I realized that the Evangelical theology I was being taught was susceptible to some disastrous objections.

Energized Evangelical to Catholic Convert

While studying at Southern Evangelical Seminary, I was encouraged to ask difficult questions, demand cogent answers, and look to the best and brightest Christian thinkers in theology and philosophy for aid. I began to gravitate to various Catholic authors, including Étienne Gilson; Jacques Maritain; Father Reginald Garrigou-Lagrange, O.P.; Father Brian Davies, O.P.; Eleonore Stump; Peter Kreeft; Father James Schall, S.J.; G. K. Chesterton; and Josef Pieper, for I began to see that these brilliant men and women were capable of answering man’s most pressing questions. Though one would assume that my Evangelical professors would have warned against reading such authors, I was actually encouraged to read them. What struck me about their work was the rigor of their argumentation, the charitable way they engaged their interlocutors, and the humility and likeness to Christ that permeated their material. Though I was encouraged to separate the Evangelical wheat from the Catholic chaff in their work, slowly but surely I began to see that the Catholic faith of these authors did not equate to the straw-man view of Catholicism that the Evangelical world had presented to me. These authors were committed Christians who loved God, were prayerful and holy, and had an Evangelical zeal that rivaled their Protestant counterparts.

Coinciding with my discovery of the richness of contemporary Catholic theology and philosophy was an equally powerful impression of a negative sort. Though my time at Southern Evangelical Seminary was extremely fruitful both intellectually and spiritually, as my studies began to come to a close, I began to question seriously the tradition in which my walk with Christ had been nurtured.

Since my conversion to Christianity in 2004, I had been steadfast in my Evangelical faith. In 2010, I was finishing my degree at SES, was teaching theology and apologetics at an Evangelical high school, had just given two lectures at a prominent Evangelical apologetics conference, and was a member of a thriving Evangelical church. Everything that I desired when I entered seminary was coming to fruition, and my future looked very bright. But my soul was not at peace, for I began to be troubled by a variety of issues. It had become increasingly and tragically apparent that Evangelicalism was inextricably divided on a variety of issues that are essential to the gospel message. Evangelicals have no common, authoritative moral or spiritual theology, and they do not agree on the relation of faith and reason, the extent and nature of man’s fallen state, justification, the atonement, salvation and works, the nature of baptism and communion, the nature and mission of the church, church leadership, or the role of the laity, to name but a few. Further, Evangelicals believe that it is the responsibility of the individual Christian to decide for himself the correct position regarding these topics. In fact, it is common to hear Evangelical leaders encourage the members of their congregation to read the Bible for themselves and decide what the Bible teaches on these and other subjects of monumental significance to the Christian life. Moreover, even highly educated, well-meaning, prayerful Evangelical professors, pastors, and leaders arrive at radically different conclusions on these topics. Though one may conclude that I would have merely abandoned Evangelicalism for a more reformed, confessional brand of Protestantism, I realized that those denominations have no advantage in this area, for they were divided over the most central questions of doctrine and morals as well. I shared my unease with my wife, and she was also deeply troubled by the veritable sea of confusion and contradiction that is the Evangelical universe. Our subsequent discussions led us to question the two fundamental guiding principles of the Protestant Reformation: sola scriptura and sola fide.

Sola Scriptura

Even the most casual observer of Protestantism generally and Evangelicalism specifically would be immediately struck by the sheer number of Protestant sects. Initially, I believed that the issues outlined above could be overcome by careful philosophical argumentation and good biblical exegesis. However, as the conclusion of my studies drew near, I began to consider the possibility that the very foundation of the Protestant faith was fundamentally and hopelessly flawed. I knew when I turned my attention to the formal cause of the Reformation that I was treading in very dangerous waters. If sola scriptura were not true, I knew I could no longer be Protestant. The gravity of this truth was immediately evident to me, and I knew there would be no turning back should I find the principle of sola scriptura wanting. Ultimately, I realized that this principle was untenable, for the Bible did not teach it, history did not testify to it, and it could not unify Christians or establish an authoritative canon.

Evangelicals are hopelessly divided on matters of doctrinal creed, moral code, and liturgical practice. Though this disunity could at best be unfortunate, at worst it could hinder the desire of the Lord, whom I had committed to follow and serve. As I considered the fact that Jesus and the apostle Paul taught that the unity of the Church is a visible reality (Jn 17:23; Rom 12:4-5; 1 Cor 12:12-30; Col 1:18, 24; Eph 1:22; 4:15-16; 5:23), I began to question seriously whether Protestantism could provide a way to unite Christians. In the summer of 2011, I came to the conclusion that the principle of sola scriptura effectively makes unity in moral code, doctrinal creed, and liturgical practice impossible, for every appeal to Scripture is an appeal to an interpretation of Scripture, and men interpret the Scriptures in radically different ways. Second, I realized that the principle of sola scrip-tura cannot give one a list of the authoritative books that belong in the Bible, for no Protestant believes that the table of contents of his Bible is part of the inspired text. Finally, the Bible does not teach sola scriptura. In fact, the Bible teaches that both the written word of the apostles and the spoken word of the apostles (tradition in Catholic theology) are equally authoritative (Mt 28:19; Mk 16:15; Jn 21:24-25; 1 Cor 11:2; 15:3, 11; 2 Thess 2:15; 3:6; 2 Tim 1:13; 2:2). Furthermore, the Scriptures do not teach that the Bible is the pillar of truth; rather, the Church is called the “pillar and bulwark of the truth” (1 Tim 3:15). For an expansion on these and other detrimental objections to the principle of sola scriptura, I refer the reader to appendix 3, “Facing the Issue of Sola Scriptura”.

Sola Fide

Though I was convinced that the Protestant principle of sola scrip-tura was false and that the Catholic view of authority could be defended biblically, I was not convinced that I should abandon the initial motive for the Reformation—namely, sola fide. From my earliest days in Campus Crusade for Christ, I had learned that a man was justified before God by grace alone, through faith alone, in Christ alone. I was told that this principle was clearly taught in the Scriptures and that abandoning this principle could spell certain doom for my salvation and that of my wife and children. However, upon closer reading of the Scriptures, I realized that the Bible does not teach the Protestant view of salvation but clearly teaches the Catholic view.

Protestantism holds that faith is the only element required by the Christian in order to be justified before God. Catholics believe that faith alone is not the only thing necessary, but one must also love God—for only faith accompanied by love of God is a living faith. In Catholic soteriology, one is justified by faith alone, and not by works, so long as one’s faith is accompanied by love of God, for love of God is what makes friendship with God possible. The primary difference between Protestants and Catholics in this respect is Paul’s use of the word faith in his epistles. Protestants understand Paul to be using the word faith or believing apart from the other two theological virtues of hope and love, whereas Catholics believe that Paul is using the term in a wider sense to include both hope and love with faith.

Most passages of the Bible are neutral in regard to the relationship between faith and justification, for they can be interpreted by both Protestants and Catholics in such a way as to align with their respective positions. The question, however, is whether the Bible ever claims that one is justified by faith alone or whether there are passages indicating that one is justified by faith working through love. Catholics have the advantage here, for all the passages that seem to support the Protestant position can easily be interpreted by Catholics, and a number of other passages clearly teach the Catholic position (Jn 14:23; Gal 5:5-6; Jas 2:21-23; 1 Pet 1:8-9; 1 Jn 3:14; 4:8; 5:3-4).I am indebted to Bryan Cross, PhD, for this insight. See Bryan Cross, “Does the Bible Teach Sola Fide?”, Called to Communion, September 3, 2008, http://www.calledtocommunion.com/2009/09/does-the-bible-teach-sola-fide/.

Through a great deal of struggle, thought, and prayer, my wife and I decided to leave our thriving Evangelical church in June 2012 and began moving toward the Catholic Church. Though we were both excited about the future, the gravity of our move became far more evident, and a certain degree of doubt and trepidation began to emerge in our minds and hearts: most of our family and friends were Evangelicals, I knew that my job teaching at an Evangelical high school would come to an end, and we were unsure whether we would ever fit into the Catholic world.

The Joy of Catholicism

Our first son was born in July 2012, and my wife and I began attending the Rite of Christian Initiation of Adults (RCIA) class at Sacred Heart Catholic Church in Salisbury, North Carolina, in September. Though our intentions were expressly directed toward entering the Church at the Easter Vigil, we were by no means moving forward with unshakable confidence. We believed that we were following the call of the Holy Spirit, who had been faithfully directing our lives since we met at Ohio University, but we also began to realize that our crisis of faith might not be cooled until we were in full communion with the one, holy, catholic, and apostolic Church. We began attending Mass regularly, prayed for good council regarding our decision, and asked God to give us the faith to follow his lead.

RCIA is a program designed to help potential converts investigate the Catholic faith. Jenni and I were blessed to have a young, newly ordained priest teach our class, and we were immediately taken with his sense of humor, pastoral presence, and passion for the Catholic faith. He and the pastor of our parish were always willing to meet with Jenni and me to answer questions regarding the faith. Not only did our priests ease our conversion, but the wonderful people of Sacred Heart welcomed us into the Church with open arms. Many of them sacrificed their time to go through RCIA with us, and their prayers, encouragement, and friendship helped us to embrace our newfound faith more fully. Further, as we began to worship in the presence of the Holy Eucharist, through fellowship with Catholics who loved Christ and his Church deeply, and under the teaching of holy and noble priests, our faith began to grow exponentially and the truth of the Catholic faith became indisputable. By December, Jenni and I decided to inform our family and friends that we intended to enter the Catholic Church. Consequently, our son was baptized at Sacred Heart on January 12, 2013, and my wife and I were received into full communion with the Catholic Church at the Easter Vigil later that year.

When my wife and I began attending Sacred Heart in the summer of 2012, we were, in a manner of speaking, reluctant converts. Though we believed the Catholic Church was the Church that Christ founded, we could not envision our life as Catholics. We knew that I would eventually have to find new employment; we were uncertain about how our family’s spiritual life would evolve; and we were unsure whether we would ever feel at home in Catholic culture. Jenni and I were not lukewarm Evangelicals, and we knew we would not be lukewarm Catholics. We were just unsure whether we would find likeminded people to share our lives. As our formation in the Catholic faith unfolded during our time at Sacred Heart, it became abundantly clear that we would have no trouble finding our place in the Catholic Church.

Though our time at Sacred Heart was overwhelmingly joyful, God continued to bless our reception into his Church by providing us not merely with new employment but with new employment in our home state: both Jenni and I were able to secure teaching positions at Catholic schools in Cincinnati. After our move, we began attending Saint Gertrude Catholic Church, a strong and vibrant Catholic community in the Dominican tradition. Saint Gertrude has been a spectacular parish home. From our earliest days in Campus Crusade for Christ, Jenni and I knew that a true Church would be strikingly Christ centered, have a distinct Evangelical zeal, and would be markedly Bible based. The passion with which the priests, Dominican sisters, and laypeople at Saint Gertrude pursue friendship with God through the Catholic Church is an inspiration to us both. We have found not only a parish community to call home but fellow brothers and sisters in Christ who will encourage and inspire us to grow in holiness and virtue.

Conclusion

Though all the reasons I listed above played a very important role in leading Jenni and me into the fullness of the Christian faith, ultimately it was God himself who drew us into his Church. Although our journey was long and arduous, God, in his infinite grace and mercy, abundantly provided all that we needed for reception into his Church. My wife and I are grateful for everything we learned in our Evangelical faith, for when we became Catholic, we were not required to leave behind much of what we learned as Evangelicals. A zeal for a personal relationship with Jesus Christ; fidelity to him, to his Church, and to the Word of God; and the desire to see others come to know Christ in a meaningful way had been forever impressed on our souls. However, by God’s grace, we chose to break through the glass ceiling of our Protestant faith into the eternal heights of the Catholic Church, the Mystical Body of our Lord Jesus Christ. The thrill of being Catholic has not worn thin, and the great adventure, which is the Catholic life, has only begun.