From Vice to Virtue

Dr. Roy Schoeman, tells us how atheism dragged him into a pit of hopelessness and how he got out of it I was born and raised Jewish. I went to Massachusetts Institute of Technology where I lost my belief in God, and essentially became an atheist. I went on to Harvard Business School, and after getting my degree was invited back to join the faculty. So at the age of 29, I found myself as a professor of marketing at Harvard Business School. Although it may sound surprising, that's when the bottom fell out of my world. Ever since I was a small child, I knew life must have a real meaning, which I thought would come from entering into a personal relationship with God. I expected this would happen at my Bar Mitzvah (sort of like Catholic confirmation) at the age of 13. When it didn't, it turned out to be one of the saddest days of my life. Then I thought real meaning would come from success in worldly life, but as a professor at Harvard, I was already more successful in a worldly career than I had ever hoped, yet still there was no meaning or purpose in my life. Therefore at that point, I fell into the darkest despair of my life. Mystical Way  Early one morning, I was walking in a Nature Preserve by the ocean, among the pine trees and sand dunes. I was just ambling along, lost in my thoughts. I had long since lost hope in believing that God existed. But all of a sudden, the curtain between Earth and Heaven disappeared, and I found myself in the presence of God, looking back over my life as if I had died. I saw that everything that had ever happened to me had been the most perfect thing that could have been arranged coming from the hands of an all-knowing, all-loving God, not only including those things that had caused the most suffering, but especially those things. I saw that I would have two great regrets after I died. Firstly, all the time and energy I had wasted worrying about not being loved when I had been held in an ocean of love, greater than anything I could imagine, at every moment of my existence, coming from this all-knowing, all-loving God. And secondly, every hour I had wasted doing nothing of value in the eyes of Heaven, since each moment contains the possibility of doing something valuable in God's eyes. Every time we take advantage of that opportunity we will very truly be rewarded for it for all eternity, and every opportunity we let slip and don't take advantage of, will be a lost opportunity for all eternity.  But the most overwhelming aspect of this experience was to come into the intimate, deep and certain knowledge that God Himself— the God who not only created everything that exists, but created existence itself—not only knew me by name and cared about me, He had been watching over me, every moment of my existence, arranging everything that ever happened to me in the most perfect way. He had actually known, and cared about how I felt every moment. In a very real way everything which made me happy made Him happy, and everything that made me sad made Him sad.  I realized that the meaning and purpose of my life was to worship and serve my Lord, God and Master who was revealing Himself to me, but I didn't know His name or what religion this was. I couldn't think of this as the God of the Old Testament, or this religion as Judaism. The picture of God that emerges from the Old Testament is of a God far more distant, severe and judgmental than this God was. I knew He was my Lord and God and my master, and I wanted nothing else but to worship and serve Him properly, but I didn't know who He was or what religion to follow.  So I prayed, “Let me know your name so I know what religion to follow. I don't mind if you are Buddha and I have to become a Buddhist; I don't mind if you’re Krishna and I have to become a Hindu; I don't mind if you’re Apollo and I have to become a Roman pagan. As long as you're not Christ and I have to become Christian!” Well, He respected that prayer and did not reveal His name to me. But I returned home happier than I had ever been in my life. All I wanted was to know the name of my Lord, God and master who had revealed Himself to me, and what religion to follow. So every night before I went to sleep I would say a short prayer that I had made up to know the name of my Lord, my God and master who had revealed Himself to me in that experience. Beauty beyond Words A year to the day after that first experience, I went to sleep after having said that prayer, as well as a prayer of thanksgiving for what had happened exactly a year earlier. I thought I was awoken by a hand touching my shoulder gently, and was led to a room and left alone with the most beautiful young woman I could ever imagine. I knew without being told that it was the Blessed Virgin Mary. When I found myself in Her presence all I wanted to do was fall on my knees and somehow honor Her appropriately.  In fact the first thought that crossed my mind was: “Oh my Goodness I wish I at least knew the Hail Mary!’ but I didn't. Her first words were an offer to answer any questions I might have for Her. Well, my first thought was to ask her to teach me the Hail Mary, so I could honor her appropriately, but I was too proud to admit that I didn't know it. So as an indirect way of getting her to teach me the Hail Mary, I asked her what her favorite prayer to her was. Her first response was, “I love all prayers to me.” But I was a bit pushy, and said, “But you must love some prayers more than others.” She relented and recited a prayer in Portuguese. I didn't know any Portuguese, so all I could do was try to remember the first few syllables phonetically and write them down as soon as I woke up the next morning. Later when I met a Portuguese Catholic woman, I asked her to recite the Marian prayers in Portuguese for me, and I identified the prayer as 'O Mary conceived without sin, pray for us who have recourse to Thee'.  As perfectly beautiful as Mary was to look at, even more profoundly affecting was the beauty of her voice. The only way I can describe it is to say it was composed out of that which makes Music, Music. When she spoke the beauty of her voice flowed through me, carrying her love with it, and lifted me up into a state of ecstasy greater than I ever imagined could exist.  Most of my questions simply flowed out of my being overwhelmed by who She was. At one point, I stammered out, “How can it be that you're so glorious, that you're so magnificent, that you're so exalted?” Her response was just to look down at me almost with pity and shake her head gently and saying 'Oh no, you don't understand. I'm nothing. I'm a creature. I'm a created thing. He's everything'.  Then again out of a desire to somehow honor her appropriately, I asked what title she liked best for herself. Her response was, “I am the beloved daughter of the Father, Mother of the Son and Spouse of the Spirit.” I asked her several other questions of somewhat less significance, after which she spoke to me for another 10 or 15 minutes. After that, the audience was ended and I went back to sleep. The next morning when I woke up I was hopelessly in love with the Blessed Virgin Mary, and I knew I wanted nothing other than to be as fully and completely Christian as possible. From that experience I realized, of course, that the God who revealed Himself to me a year earlier had been Christ. In Search of  There was a shrine to Our Lady of La Salette about 45 minutes from where I lived. I began to go there three or four times a week, just to walk in the grounds, to feel the presence of the Blessed Virgin Mary, and to commune with her. The shrine was owned by the Catholic Church and so, sometimes, there would be a Holy Mass taking place. Whenever I was in the presence of a Mass, I was filled with a tremendous desire to receive the Eucharist, even though I did not know what it was. Those two things led me without too much of a detour into the Catholic Church—knowing who the Blessed Virgin Mary is, and wanting to receive Communion, daily if possible.  On entering the Catholic Church, I not only did not stop being Jewish but, as I see it, became more Jewish than ever, since in doing so I became a Jewish follower of the Jewish Messiah, rather than a Jew who had not recognized the Jewish Messiah and remained in “pre- Messianic” Judaism. As I see it, the Catholic Church is post-Messianic Judaism and Judaism is pre-Messianic Catholicism: two phases in one and the same plan for salvation for all mankind. I am infinitely grateful that I received these experiences. I was brought into the fullness of the truth, into a personal relationship with God beyond anything I ever imagined could exist, into knowing the answers to all the questions about Man, about God, about the meaning of life, about what happens after you die, and so forth that tormented me growing up. Most importantly, I gained a well-founded hope of an eternity of unimaginable bliss and love in the presence of God. ARTICLE is based on the inspiring testimony shared by Dr. Roy Schoeman for the Shalom World program “Mary My Mother”. To watch the episode visit: shalomworld.org/episode/mary-my-mother

Tap, tap. “Who is there?” I asked. “I Am Love,” came the reply. “Come in. Do come in,” I begged in earnest. For it had been a long time since anyone had come to call and I was intrigued that someone so esteemed should come to me. Rattle, rattle went the doorknob as it twisted back and forth. “You have locked your door,” came the Voice from outside. “I shall unlock it at once,” I replied. But I could not. I discovered that the pathway to my entrance was barricaded. In fact, my room was so filled up with things that I could not even begin to clear a passage to reach the threshold. “Please, come back tomorrow,” I instructed. “Tomorrow I'll have an unlocked door.” So, Love retreated. And I set about the task of clearing a path for His return. Engaging all of my strength, I shoved this and that aside. The enterprise was taxing, but my resolve was strengthened by the prospect that Love would come again. Then having succeeded in pushing my most cumbersome belongings to the sidelines, I turned my attention to the nests of long-forgotten treasures that were now laid bare. I cast out the obvious rubbish and stacked the seemingly useful things. I made a channel through which to pass and, reaching the doorway, I unlatched the chains. Rap, rap. “Who is there?” I asked in excitement as bright rays of sunlight poured through the cracks in my door. “I Am Love,” He responded. “Come in. Do come in,” I instructed, while unchaining the latch and pulling open the heavy door. “Sit down. Do sit down,” I petitioned, pointing to the two seats, side-by-side. Love entered in and reclined. I sat beside Him for a minute, but then I leapt up and set about the job of entertaining. “Look here,” I said, motioning to the pretty adornments on my walls. “See these,” I instructed, arraying all my earthly treasures before Him. I babbled on and on for a long while. I told Love all about my accomplishments. I shared with Him my dreams. I revealed to Him my blueprints. He sat for hours in silent stillness while I flitted about the room. Before I knew it, the day had slipped by and Love stood to go. “Do come back again tomorrow,” I invited. “Tomorrow I will have more to offer.” Love stepped out of the door and down the lane. “I should sleep,” I thought to myself, but I was too excited to lay my head on a pillow. Instead, I exhausted myself redecorating. I dragged a round table into the center of the room and nestled our chairs around it. I laid a starched, white cloth upon the table and displayed an antique vase on top. Then, I dug into the depths of my closet and retrieved my best frock. I worked through the night preparing my cell and myself. Having exposed all of my tales, plans and achievements during Love's last visit, I looked for novel sources of entertainment. I fished an old vinyl record from its dusty sleeve and set it on the long-unused player. Once satisfied with all my new arrangements, tomorrow couldn't come fast enough. Tap, tap. “Who is there?” I called, rushing about the room touching up the last details as morning broke anew. “I Am Love,” came the reply. “Come in. Do come in,” I insisted flinging the door wide open. “Come and sit at my table.” Love entered and took His place. “Listen to this,” I cooed, setting the needle on the vinyl grooves. The space filled with noise as the record spun and a new energy swirled. For the next hours I swayed and whirled about in my fashionable attire. I danced before Love with seemingly endless enthusiasm. I sang the parts of the songs that I knew and hummed the tune when the lyrics eluded my memory. My heart was invigorated in my role as entertainer and I let go of my inhibitions, fancying myself an impressive hostess. And again the day was too quickly spent, such that as Love stood to go, I realized that He'd had no chance for Himself. I'd filled two days with my voice: speaking and singing. And I'd failed to hear Love's response. “Oh, please, do come again tomorrow,” I pleaded. “Come tomorrow and tell me all about Yourself: Your delights, Your stories, Your plans. Tomorrow I'll be prepared to listen.” In silence, Love exited. Rap, rap. “Who is there?” I queried, as the warm glowing light of daybreak seeped through the entryway's crevices. “I Am Love,” came the now familiar answer in the dawn. “Come in. Do come in,” I said, “today I wish to hear Your voice.” In truth, having worn myself out in the previous days, I was only too glad to be able to sit and allow Love to work. Love came in and reclined in His chair at my table, but no sound crossed His lips. He remained in silent stillness. I sat in silence, too, though I was not altogether comfortable with it. Several times I considered drawing upon my last reserves of energy, attempting to woo Him with some new tricks or trinkets. But then I remembered my promise and I continued to wait on His voice. Seconds turned into minutes. Minutes turned into hours. The clock seemed to have stopped, or at least to have hesitated now and then, which led me to check it often. And in searching to hear Love's voice my ears attuned to all manner of other sounds: crowing...chirping...ticking... creaking...shifting...breathing... The silence was, at times, deafening. Wearied from my works and lulled by my anxious listening, I drifted in and out of sleep in the seat beside my Guest. Then, Love finally stood to leave. However, after this long day I wasn't quite sure what to expect of tomorrow. Love's silence had confused my understanding of the roles of friendship. I was losing confidence in my ability to be a good hostess. “Perhaps, He ought to find a more suitable companion,” I considered in my mind. My heart in desolation, it seemed easier to allow Love to leave on this day. So, rather than bid Him return to me, I simply said, “Goodbye.” Love left. I latched the door behind Him. Thoroughly spent, I kicked my shoes under the table, dropped my dress into a heap on the floor and made ready for bed. Then, I crawled beneath the patchwork quilt on my bed and heaved a sigh. I might have devoted some time to deciphering all that had come to pass between Love and me, but I hadn't the inclination at that moment. I was weary and dejected. Sleep beckoned and I readily submitted. At 3:33am, a gentle sound stirred on the other side of my latched door. Though it was barely more than a whisper, it called me from the depths of my slumber. Eyes wide open, I lay paralyzed for a minute while my mind worked to arouse; seeking to make sense of the hour and the circumstance. “Who is there? I yelled, half fearing the reply. “I Am Love,” was the answer. “Love?” I asked. For though Love had been the only guest Who'd come to call on me, I was surprised by His arrival at such an hour. “I am not prepared to entertain you just now,” I said. “Come again tomorrow when I have had time to plan for your arrival.” Love spoke not another word, but instead stood waiting. For half a minute I remained buried under the patchwork quilt, wrestling between exhaustion and curiosity. The latter won the battle so I rose from my bed and fumbled in the darkness until I reached the latch. Standing inside, in the blackness, I paused. For it occurred to me that this time Love's entrance would be different. I couldn't understand how I knew this, but it was clear in my mind that I would never be the same if I invited Love in on His own terms. So, I drew in a long breath, unlocked the chains and pulled the door in with great care. Love entered. As His foot crossed the threshold, my cell was awash in soft Light, though He carried no lantern. The Light exposed even the remotest of corners in my room, leaving nothing unseen. Ashamed, I began to offer my apologies for my ragged appearance and ill-kept room, but He tenderly put his arm about my shoulder and absolved me of my anxieties. Then, He silently led me to my chair and I sat. Love made no speech, yet His Words filled my ears and instructed my intellect. Unlike the previous day, the outward silence now freed me from all distractions, allowing me to rest wholly in His Presence. Unattached to my plans and devoid of power, I discovered the security and serenity of being vulnerable to Love. He made no pretense nor accepted any. Love simply wrapped me in His embrace and all that had been before fell away. Love's hands had appeared empty when He entered, but from unseen resources He produced Bread and Wine upon the table. These He blessed and said, “Take and eat.” Unaccustomed to dining at such an hour, I was strangely drawn to the meal. Deep inside, I experienced a hunger like never before. This desire penetrated deep within. So, I ate and I drank. Together, the sweet Bread and velvety Wine satiated the hunger, and yet they left me with a new thirst, a thirst for which no earthly remedy could suffice. I never wanted Love to depart from me again, so I made the decision to keep my door open and the pathway free. Like Solomon I implored, “Set me as a seal upon Your heart.” Love smiled, for He already had.

A young couple introduced their eight-year-old (special needs) son, Gabriel, to the parish priest with a request to accept him as an altar server. The priest asked the boy, “Do you want to be an altar server?” Instead of responding verbally, the boy hugged the priest around the waist, as high as he could reach. The following Sunday, Gabriel arrived punctually, 15 minutes before Mass as the priest had arranged. Since there was no sacristan, the priest had to run back and forth making preparations. It was not until Mass was about to begin that he realized Gabriel knew nothing about how to serve Mass. So, the priest said, “Gabriel, do whatever I do, OK?” Gabriel was an obedient boy, and very literal. When Mass began and the priest kissed the altar, the boy kissed it too. During the homily, all were smiling and paying no attention to the priest because they were captivated by the cute altar server who was doing his best to imitate the priest’s every gesture. After Mass, the priest called little Gabriel to his side and explained what he should and should not do during Mass. He clarified that kissing the altar was a gesture reserved to the priest; “The altar represents Christ, and the priest, while performing the sacrament, is joined in a special way to Him.” Although Gabriel was obedient, he was also frank, so he didn’t hesitate to say, “But I want to kiss it, too.” Further explanations didn’t diminish the boy’s desire to kiss the altar, so the priest came up with a clever solution telling the boy that he would kiss the altar “for both of them”. The boy seemed to accept this solution, at least for the moment. As he began Mass the following Sunday, the priest kissed the altar and watched to see what Gabriel would do. The boy did not kiss the altar; instead, he pressed his cheek against the altar and stayed there with a big smile on his face until the priest asked him to stop. After Mass, the pastor reviewed the instructions with the boy, reminding him he was not to kiss the altar and that the priest was doing it “for both of them”. But the boy quickly disagreed, saying, “I didn’t kiss it; it kissed me!” Taken aback, the priest said, “Gabriel, don’t play games with me.” But the boy didn’t back down. “It’s true!” he said. “He filled me with kisses!” This incident, shared by Father José Rodrigo López Cepeda on social media, relates an incident from his early years at the parish of the Shrine of St. Orosia in Spain. Little Gabriel teaches us the importance of letting ourselves be loved by Jesus first, and of always remaining close, in good times and in bad. Have you been kissed by Him today?

We Need to Be Careful What We Pray for Because We Might Just Get It There is something very satisfying about the process and results of deep cleaning my home. For weeks, and sometimes months afterwards, the visible fruits of my efforts are enjoyed by my whole family. When the deep cleaning urge strikes, the satisfaction of tackling one area often leads to focusing on other parts of the house that require the same attention. Cleaning often leads to purging unneeded items and the car gets loaded with boxes of things that are destined for the thrift store. Heading to the thrift store one afternoon with a car load, it occurred to me that I was the one who purchased most of the things in those boxes. Although I did not realize it at the time of purchase, I was the one who made the decision to clutter my life and home with burdensome things. Likewise, it dawned on me that this same dilemma had also crept into my personal and family life. Over the years, I had filled my schedule with so many “to do's'' that I had cluttered my own life. That thought made me aware that I needed to make some changes. My Cup Overflows Married life began when I was very young and full of energy. God blessed us with children right away and we embraced all the needs and activities that came along with the kids. I was a busy wife and mother. My cup was not only full...it overflowed. However, as full as my cup seemed, an increasing emptiness developed within me. Life felt unsettled, but I did not have the time to uncover what made my spirit restless. God had placed a growing desire in my heart to develop a closer relationship with Him. I knew many fragmented details about God, but I didn’t understand His story or my place in that story. There was very little time, let alone quality time, for God in my day. The Slow Down Effect Fifteen years and 4 children later, I recall a morning when I felt overly tired, a feeling had been building for quite some time. It was far more than fatigue. The momentum of life, built, hastened and grew year by year, hastened which eventually led my mind, body and spirit to become depleted. I finally reached out to God in desperation. I shouted at Him, “LORD….SLOW ME DOWN! I cannot do everything and I certainly cannot do it at this pace. Where are you? I know you are out there. I need you!” I have heard it said to be careful what you pray for because you might just get it. Well, God had been patiently and mercifully waiting a long time for me to call on Him. Within a few (still busy) months of my desperate prayer, I was bitten by a poisonous spider which thrust me into a downward spiral of various health problems. All activities didn’t just slow down, they stopped. I became extremely weak and painfully bedridden. Physician after physician, test after test, day after day.... I slowly slipped away. The frail woman that looked back at me from the mirror was a stranger; a shell of myself. “Lord help me,” I cried. A Friendship to Treasure Little energy to do things made the days feel very long and lonely. One afternoon, the dusty Bible on my bed stand caught my attention. In hopes of finding inspirational words to comfort me, I opened its gilded pages. Day by day, that book became a welcome and treasured friend. However, I found more questions than answers in my head as I tried to understand, Who is this God? Why did He do the things He did? How do the stories relate? How do I, laying in this bed, fit into His story? Where is He now? Does He hear me? Even before I asked my questions God had been at work putting the right people in my life. Help was on the way. Months prior to becoming ill, I had hired a sweet little older lady, named Priscilla, to teach my kids and me how to play the piano. She came to our home for weekly lessons. Although she still came to teach my children, eventually I had to cancel my lessons because of weakness and fatigue. When Priscilla learned how ill I’d become, she shared her faith with me and offered to pray with me for healing. That moment opened up a friendship between us that I treasure to this day. Something for God The following week, Priscilla inquired about my health. I had not noticed any physical improvements, but I shared that I had started reading the Bible and it brought me comfort. I confessed, however, that I did not understand quite a few passages which frustrated me. Little did I know that our piano teacher was well versed in Scripture. Her eyes lit up as she explained her love for God and His Word. She offered to return the following week and share Bible time with me instead of our piano time. God had brought Priscilla (which means delight of the Lord) into my life and for over two years she delightfully answered my questions about Scripture. She prayed with me and helped me develop a meaningful prayer life. Prayer time led to a beautiful personal relationship with God. That empty restless feeling began to fade. Although still very sick, it occurred to me that I should begin to take the focus off myself and try to do something for Him. God had given me numerous talents, but in my condition I had little to give. “Lord,” I prayed, “I think I can still crochet.” I wondered how He could possibly use crocheting, but I offered it anyway. The following Sunday, too weak to attend Mass, I clicked on the TV hoping to find a Mass on the local Catholic channel. Instead, at that very moment, a broadcast from a church down the street from me was aired. Some friends and neighbors attended that church, so I wondered if any of them were there. As the service ended, a woman stood up to announce they were starting a new ministry called “The Prayer Shawl Ministry” and crocheters and knitters were needed. I nearly fell out of my bed! God had heard my prayer and was calling me into service. I stumbled downstairs as fast as my weak legs could take me and called one of my friends who attended that church. “Who was that lady...and how can I get involved with that ministry?” I urgently asked. God Called Me I offered what little I had and God called me to use it. When they held that ministry meeting, by His grace, He gave me the strength to make it to that little white church and I signed up to make Prayer Shawls for others. The shawls were to be given to the sick, lonely, dying and those needing comfort to remind them that others were thinking and praying for them. I crocheted many shawls and prayed for anyone who needed prayers. Their problems became my problems, and I made their needs more important than my own. Interestingly, that began the road to physical healing. With each day, my physical and spiritual life became stronger. After a few years my family moved from that rural New England town to a town in Northern California. Within a few months, God opened the door to start the Prayer Shawl Ministry in our new parish where He reminded me there was still work to be done for Him. I love the story of Martha and Mary in Luke’s Gospel (38-42) where Jesus helps Martha understand she needs to reorganize her priorities: “You are worried and upset about many things,” He tells her, “but few things are needed—or indeed only one.” Her sister Mary, on the other hand, simply “sat at the Lord’s feet listening to what he said” and Jesus says that “she has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.” I felt God was transforming me from Martha into Mary. It has been a long hard road to recovery. I still have tough days but God brought me from spiritual and physical depletion to a healthier life. I had to let go of many things I once thought were important. I had to deep clean my life, empty my cup and allow God to be the one who filled it. In Psalm 46:10 God tells us “Be still and know that I am God.” So now, I lead a stiller life with time to ask the Holy Spirit for the discernment to choose only what God wants me involved in. My time, talents and treasure belong to Him, and I strive to remember to make room in my life to be with God, to feel His presence and hear His voice. Those are the “things that are needed.” When we clean our homes and experience good results, we are inspired to improve other areas. This concept can work in our spiritual lives in the same manner. My experience taught me that, the more time I spend with God and invite Him into my life, the more positive things happen. For “We know that all things work for good for those who love God” (Romans 8:28) So today, I encourage you to choose an area within your life that might be an obstacle to a closer relationship with Him. Offer that area to Him and invite Him to deepen your faith and relationship with Him. For as Saint Augustine so accurately and profoundly stated, “You have made us for Yourself, O Lord, and our hearts are restless until they rest in You.”

What happens when a Protestant Pastor finds a great treasure in the Catholic Church? Becoming a Catholic was not easy for me. Like many converts, I had my share of misconceptions, and obstacles. My biggest obstacle was that my faith/ church perspective was also my career. At 20, I entered into full-time ministry as a Youth Pastor. Throughout my 22 year career in ministry, I have performed many roles—Senior Pastor, Teaching Pastor, Worship Leader, Missions Coordinator etc. My faith was my life, and the idea of leaving it all behind to become a Catholic was something that I wrestled with. I never would have thought it could happen. I had no Catholics in my family. Growing up as the son of a United Methodist pastor, my only exposure to the Catholic faith was from people who hated the Catholic faith. When I met my wife, I asked her if she went to church. She replied, “I’m a Catholic but I don’t go to church”, so I took her to my church and she loved it! We were married in the United Methodist church where I worked; and never looked back. Until… Caught Unawares Like many others who ultimately convert, my first experience with a Catholic who actually practiced his faith proved to be life changing. His name is Devin Schadt. He was a graphic designer. I hired him to create a logo for our youth ministry which led to some interesting conversations about faith, church and eventually his Catholic faith. My first impression of him was that he loved Jesus and had a vibrant faith. This seemed very strange to me, because as I sat in his dining room, I was intrigued by the icons, paintings and other “Catholic looking” stuff he had in his house. Who does that? I had to press him on this. I had never heard a Catholic talk about Jesus in the way Devin did. I had assumed that he just hadn't read the Bible enough to see that his Catholic faith contradicted the Scriptures. I was licking my chops at the idea of sharing some verses with him and explaining the Gospel. I was certain that after a few minutes of this, he would be ready to become a “real” Christian, pray the sinner’s prayer, and become a Protestant like me. I asked him, “Devin, when were you saved?” I wanted to see how a Catholic would answer this question. I did not expect much. I was so wrong. Not only did Devin have an answer to that question, but he had his own questions for me. Questions that I was not at all prepared for. For example, “Keith, where did your Bible come from?” “Why are there so many Protestant denominations?” “How do we know who is accurately teaching the truth of Christianity when there are so many differences between Protestant denominations?” And so many more! I had never heard any of these ideas before, but although I was intrigued, I couldn’t wrap my mind around the possibility that the Catholic Church could be the one true Church founded by Christ. Even the idea that there was one true Church founded by Christ was a new idea to me. I had always believed that what mattered was a person’s faith and belief in the scriptures, not any connection to an institution. Devin was helping me to see that the Bible itself shows that Jesus not only founded a Church, but that it still existed today through the authority of the apostles as they had handed down the faith. However, this was not something I could easily accept. When God Called Me Devin and I would go on to have many conversations over the years. We would take a pilgrimage to Rome and Medjugorje together. We would argue passionately. During this time, my ministry and my family were growing. I loved my role in my church. God was moving and things were great. Although there were many things Devin had showed me that challenged my Protestant thinking, I was still too afraid to seriously entertain the idea of converting. However, there was one night in particular where God called me out. I was at a church camp and one of my friends was leading the youth in a communion service. It was nothing new to me, but as he worked his way through the service and held up the bread and juice and said “this represents Jesus”, I knew that this was not what Jesus said, and I also knew this was not what the Christian Church believed for 1500 years. It was as if God was calling to me “Come home and I’ll show you more...” I broke down and left the room. I called Devin and confessed to him that I was feeling called to become a Catholic. I was terrified that he would rub it in my face that he was right (only because that is what I would have done), but he did not. He simply said he was there to help. I wish that this was the part of my story where I converted, but it is not. I was too afraid. I bailed because I could not wrap my mind around how this could work. What would I do for a job? What would my family think? How could I explain this? All of these questions overpowered the leading I felt and I put this whole Catholic thing behind me for many years. It’s one of the biggest regrets of my life. More than 10 years later, eventually God’s call home would become something I could no longer ignore. I had been the “Pastor to Youth and Mission” at a United Methodist Church for a couple years when a good friend of mine named Greg invited my wife and me to attend a screening of “Apparition Hill”. This movie was a documentary that followed seven strangers on a pilgrimage to Medjugorje. I had not thought about that trip in quite a while, but when Greg called I thought I’d better go, since he was the one who originally took me on that trip all those years ago. The movie brought so many things back into my mind and had me in tears a few times. This film was clearly used by our Blessed Mother to reach out to me. Worst Part I had been in a bit of a storm in my church. Although my local church was great, our denomination was a mess. It had become clear to me that without an authoritative voice to not only interpret Scripture, but even history, chaos and schism were inevitable. For the United Methodists, the cultural issues of the day surrounding Marriage and Scripture were unraveling what was once a strong denomination. I found myself at odds with many people who wanted the church to change with the times. It did not seem to bother them that the scriptures clearly defined things like marriage and human sexuality. “That’s just one interpretation”. “The church has had it wrong all these years and we will fix it”. “God doesn’t hate. He/she loves everybody so you can’t judge anyone”. These were just some of statements I wrestled against all the while knowing that I really did not have a leg to stand on without some kind of external God-given authority to tell me otherwise. During one of my conversations with a very liberal pastor friend, she said to me, “Keith if you believe all that Church authority stuff, why aren’t you a Catholic?” Great question! I had begun to reopen that idea. It seemed that the more I thought about everything Devin and I had argued about, the more it made perfect sense. I was in a different place. I had learned that not listening to God is the worst thing you can do. I still had objections. I still had issues, but I had begun to feel a new sense of calling and a new presence in my life. It took me a while to put my finger on it, but it all became clear to me as I was preparing to preach a sermon on the Annunciation. (It was Advent—so we could talk about Mary.) As I worked on this message in my office, I became overcome with emotion. The more I thought about Mary, the more I became aware of not only how amazing she was, but how connected to the Holy Spirit she continues to be. I felt her presence. When I preached that sermon, I could feel the Holy Spirit moving. I talked about how Mary was the “New Eve” and the “New Ark of the Covenant.” I talked about how amazing she must have been for the angel, Gabriel to greet her “Hail, full of grace”. The people were so intrigued by this. One man came forward afterwards in tears, saying he had never heard anything like that before. There is so much more I could say about this, but the bottom line is: My doctrinal objections were solved not by arguments, but by The Blessed Mother capturing my heart. However, I still had the issue of what my life would look like if I converted. My dad had told me once, “Keith you can’t just quit your job and become Catholic, there needs to be a way”. He meant that I needed to know how I would feed my family. What would I do for a job? What about my ministry? A Step of Faith The answers to those questions would not be revealed to me for some time, but one night as I prayed before a crucifix, I said to Jesus, “Lord, I am ready to become Catholic, but I need you to make a way.” With as much clarity as I have ever had from God, Jesus spoke to me from the crucifix. “I am the Way, the Truth and the Life. You don’t need Me to make a way, you just need ME”. I knew what this meant. I had just received my blessing during the Mass (because I could not receive the Eucharist). Jesus was showing me that He was not only truly present in the Eucharist, but also that my primary need was not for God to make things easy or fully revealed, but rather to take a step of faith like I had never taken before. He was showing me that what I truly needed was not control, or assurance. What I needed was Him. I was realizing that even if I lost everything I have in this world, but gained Jesus, I had won! I had to get to the place where I did not need it all to work out perfectly in order to convert. I had to be willing to sacrifice it all for Jesus. Once I was able to take that step, it all became clear. There was no looking back. Jesus said, “The Kingdom of Heaven is like treasure hidden in a field, which someone found and hid; then in his joy he goes and sells all that he has and buys that field.” (Matthew 13:44) After all these years, I was finally ready to buy the field. I am so happy I did. Since becoming a Catholic, things have not been easy. I have lost friends, money, security, stability and more. But what I have gained has been more valuable than I could ever have asked for. The blessings I have received are incomparable with what I sacrificed. God has been true to his word. I know that no matter what happens in this life, I will never leave the Church. When you follow the call of God, it does not mean life will become easy, but it does become more meaningful. I am so grateful for the grace he has given to me, and I can only dream, about where this journey will take me from here.

I did not grow up in faith. Although my grandparents were faithful Anglicans, my family were not churchgoers. I went to an Anglican high school, but that did not mean much to me. I briefly thought about God’s existence in my teens, but quickly dismissed it as ridiculous. I remember sitting on my surfboard one day, surrounded by tiny waves, praying, “Please send me some waves.” Then, I thought, “How can I pray when I don’t believe in God?” Little did I know that deep within my heart was a real emptiness. That spontaneous prayer was a sign that I was missing something essential. After school, I joined the army to study at the Australian Defence Academy. However, this coincided with my phase of teenage rebellion. I went out drinking, neglected to do assignments and failed nearly every exam. I even refused to cut my hair, which was not a good look in the army. So, it was not surprising that soon I was on my way back home. But my mother would not tolerate these bad habits. After I stayed out late drinking, she told me that my behaviour was unacceptable. When I tried to argue, she told me that I would have to start paying board if I wanted to set my own hours. I was so pig-headed that I started to do just that, but it was one of the best things that my mother ever said to me. That prompted me to study Surveying and hold down three part-time jobs. However, in my downtime, I was out drinking at least three nights a week and experimenting with other drugs. Only my guardian angel’s intervention prevented me from killing myself or someone else with my recklessness, especially when I drove in a drunken state. Sometimes, I had absolutely no recollection of what had happened for several hours. I was completely blacked out. I do not think that anyone understood what I was doing to myself. My sexual morality was also very dubious. Exposure to pornography at an early age affected how I treated women. That deeply horrifies me now and it distresses me to reflect upon my behaviour at that time. I wish I could go back and repair the harm I caused. Choices We Make After university, I got a mining job which enabled me to save a lot, since there’s not much to spend it on out there. So, I set off to holiday in Europe. My choice of reading material–a New Age book–was a good indication of the state of my spirituality. It was time to explore the meaning of life. I remember thinking, “I really like this guy, Jesus Christ. He loves the poor. He is not materialistic. He has got his finger on the pulse in terms of peace, but this thing about him being Son of God—that is impossible. He is just one of those great guys of history, like Gandhi or Buddha.” To extend my stay in Europe, I found a job navigating ships and oil rigs around the North Sea. From a base in Scotland, a helicopter would fly me all the way to rigs scattered across the North Sea as far as the Arctic Circle. After two or three days work, I would return for two or three days off. My landlady’s boyfriend was a born again Christian who gave me a book to read, “The Late, Great Planet Earth” about the end times. (Scott Hahn read the same book before his initial conversion to Christianity.) I read about ten pages before deciding that it was not my cup of tea (it did not interest me). One day, I was unexpectedly called to an urgent job. To while away the time on flights, I usually brought a book to read, but I had nothing except that one, so I grabbed it out of desperation as I walked out the door. I became engrossed in reading it, so the flight passed swiftly. Since the job did not take long, I had plenty of time to rest and reflect while I waited for the helicopter. Then almost unremarkably, a series of thoughts crossed my mind leading me to the astounding realization that Jesus Christ is the Son of God. I did not know where these thoughts had come from. Everything that I had heard about Jesus started making sense for some reason. I was a bit stunned and did not know what to do, so I said, “Jesus, if this is true please let me know.” At that moment, an amazing light seemed to spill out of my chest into the whole cabin, filling me with ecstatic joy. I had never experienced anything like this and it knocked my socks off. I felt a burning desire to read the Bible, so I hunted one down straight away because I could not wait. I spent my three days leave reading the whole New Testament straight through, from Matthew all the way to Revelation. Growing Deeper On my return to Australia, Mum was thrilled to see me again and came across my Bible while helping me unpack. “What's this?” she said in surprise, so I told her the news. “I’m a Christian. I’ve found the faith.” Her response was discouraging, “Craig, don't lose your friends.” I had a really great bunch of friends. It was actually through one of them that I became a Catholic. Karl married a Catholic whose family was heavily involved in a charismatic community. When they invited me along to a prayer meeting, it was a totally novel experience for me, but I loved it. They had a ten week course starting that week, so asked if I could join in. The Lord really seemed to be bringing me home. One of them asked me one day, “Why don’t you think about becoming a Catholic?” Without hesitation, I replied, “Yes, I'm really open to that.” So, I started a one-on-one RCIA program with their chaplain, Father Chris. He gave me a catechism explaining all the Catholic doctrine we would be studying. I read through it and told him that I had no problem with any of it. I believed it all, without a doubt. Nothing that The Church taught was a barrier for me. Just as everything made sense to me when I first read the New Testament, I was able to immediately perceive that the teachings of The Catholic Church were true. I had no doubts at all. A Higher Call? Over the next two years, I became a Catholic, attended daily Mass and continued growing in my faith. As I thought about the future, I considered whether God was calling me to a religious vocation or marriage. Father Chris was in the Servite order, so I decided to join them to discern if I was meant to be a priest. They sent me to Melbourne for training, but before too long I realized that this was not where God was calling me. However, it was all part of His plan as in Melbourne I would reconnect with Lucy, a lovely, young woman who would become my wife two years later. My faith journey was such a gift to me. I had not even been interested in becoming a Catholic or even a Christian. I was not even trying to understand who God was. I was not even asking the questions. God, in His infinite mercy, just decided to say, “Well, it’s time for him to come now.” He gave me that experience on the oil rig and made it so dramatic because he knew that I needed that. If it was a more subtle experience, I probably would not even be a Christian today. I just needed to be smacked between the eyes. But, with my hand on my heart, I can honestly say that I have never doubted, for one second since, that God exists, or that Jesus Christ is the Son of God and my Savior, through His death on The Cross for my sins. Upstart of Miracles Starting a school—Angelorum College in Brisbane— is our family’s big project now. Lucy wanted to help families grow in holiness. It is the primary goal of the school and everything we do is designed to support that. Since there was previously no Catholic Distance Education school in Australia, we also support families who home school with curriculum and other practical assistance. In the beginning, I was almost praying that it would not get off the ground, because it seemed insane to think that we could start a school and there were so many obstacles to overcome. The first miracle was getting approved. The second miracle was finding a place to set up the school—thank you, Legion of Mary. There have been many miracles since and, five years down the track, it is bearing fruit in the lives of all the families who joined us in this crazy venture. We are now praying for the miracle of finding a bigger, permanent home. It is so exciting to be sharing our faith with the next generation, in company with such faithful, generous, loving families. Encountering the love of Christ and realizing what He did for us, and is doing for us all the time can transform lives. Eternity opened up before me, so I want to share that good news. Before I was dead, but now I am alive, I have discovered the pearl of great price. Each of us is created in the image and likeness of God and we find our fulfillment in Him. Before my conversion, I desperately tried to fill the yearning emptiness inside with temporal pleasures which could never satisfy, but after my conversion He made me complete. So, I do not go out to get drunk now, not only because I do not want to lose my wits, but because I have no need to do that since I found my joy in the Lord. I am finally becoming the person that the Lord intends me to be, since He has saved me.

Question: I am very close to my sister, but recently she told me that she has stopped practicing the Faith. She hasn’t been to Mass in a year, and she tells me that she just isn’t sure any more about whether Catholicism is true. How can I help bring her back to the Church? This is a common situation that can be found in many families. When siblings, children or friends leave the Church, it breaks the hearts of those who love them. I have two siblings who no longer practice the Faith, and it grieves me deeply. What can be done about it? The first and simplest (though not necessarily the easiest) answer is prayer and fasting. Although simple, it is profoundly effective. Ultimately it is God’s grace that causes a soul to return to Him. So, before we speak, act, or do anything else for this straying sheep, we must beg God to soften her heart, enlighten her mind, and fill her soul with the touch of His love. Enlist others to pray and fast with you for the conversion of this soul. Once we have prayed, we must show joy and kindness. Saint Francis de Sales, often called “The Gentleman Saint” for his great courtesy, said, “Be as gentle as possible; and remember you will catch more flies with a spoonful of honey than with a hundred barrels of vinegar.” Far too many people go straight to nagging and guilt when trying to draw back a lost soul. But we should seek to be a follower of Christ out of joy, not out of mere obligation! If He truly is our life, our delight, his joy should radiate in our life. This will draw souls without ever bringing up the name of Jesus, for joy and kindness is attractive in and of itself. After all, as the French Jesuit Pierre Teilhard de Chardin said, “Joy is the infallible sign of the presence of God!” Closely related to this is to ask the question: Are we living our faith counter-culturally? If our lives are indistinguishable from the secular culture, then we must ask if we are really effective witnesses to the transforming power of Christ. If we talk incessantly about our possessions, or are unduly attached to praise or our job, or if we gossip freely and watch trashy TV shows, we may not inspire anyone to follow Christ. The early Christians were so successful at evangelization because their lives were in such stark contrast to the decadent culture in which they lived. We still live in a decadent post-Christian culture, and our lives can stand out equally well if we live our faith radically. It is also important to talk with your sister. Perhaps she has strayed because she has had a bad experience with a priest, or maybe she has a misunderstanding about something the Church teaches. Maybe she is struggling with a sin in her own life, and her absence from church springs from a conscience that is not at rest. Don’t get defensive, but listen patiently and agree with any good points she makes. If she is willing to ask questions, be prepared with responses! Make sure you know what the Church teaches, and if you don’t know the answer to one of her questions, offer to investigate further. Invite her to go with you to a retreat or a talk, if you think she is ready for it. Perhaps give her a gift of a book about the Faith, or a CD of a good talk you once heard. Offer to arrange for her to meet with a priest, if she is willing. It can be tricky, because you don’t want to become pushy, so make the invitations without pressure or obligation. Finally, trust in God. He loves your sister more than you ever could, and He is doing everything possible to draw her back to Himself. Persevere, knowing that everyone is on a spiritual journey. Your sister might become like Saint Augustine, who strayed far but became a Doctor of the Church! Keep loving your sister, and trust in our merciful God who wants none to perish but all to attain eternal life.

Praying for your loved ones? Here's a story to keep you hopeful Only Yesterday I remember it like it was yesterday—sitting in a dimly-lit living room with my future father-in-law after a holiday meal. It was the first time I had met my boyfriend’s parents, and I was noticeably nervous. The family had scattered after dinner, leaving Harry and I to engage in small talk by the fire. I had heard so much about him and was excited to have this opportunity to converse. Harry was truly larger than life with an incredible sense of humor. He was the father of six children—hardworking, an equestrian record holder and a veteran of an elite military organization. I was dating his oldest son. I had admired him long before I met him and hoped to make a good impression. I, too, came from a large family, and was a devout Catholic—something I hoped he would view favorably. I knew that Harry had grown up in the Catholic Church, but left long before he married and started a family. This was something that piqued my curiosity and I wanted to know more—to understand why. What could have made him leave this faith that I, even as a teenager, loved so dearly? When the topic of religion eventually came up in conversation, I excitedly shared with him my devotion to the faith. His response was unexpected and heart-sinking. He nonchalantly, almost coldly, stated that he was once a Catholic—even an altar boy, but now he was not sure if he could even remember the Lord’s Prayer. Wanting to respond without sounding disrespectful, I quietly mentioned how sad that was—and I deeply felt it. This conversation left an impression on me and I kept this memory closely tucked away. Glimmering Lights The years came and went, and my husband and I held Harry close in prayer— hoping that one day he would return to the faith. Harry was there for my marriage to his son in the Catholic Church. He was there for the sacramental celebrations for our children, and he was even there the day his own son became a Catholic. Unable to hold back my tears of joy as I watched my husband’s baptism, the memory of my conversation with his father, ten years earlier, came flooding back and I felt the very slightest heat of anger—anger that my husband’s father had cheated him out of a faith-filled upbringing. My husband wanted more for his own children. He had not just been supportive of raising our family in the Catholic faith, he himself felt an inner longing for more. His initiation into the Catholic Church was a wonderful example of his own deep faith and trust. I saw small glimmers of faith in Harry over the years, and I always believed there was still some conviction buried deep in his heart. When my husband was diagnosed with cancer, my father-in-law told me in confidence that he was praying to Our Lady for him, as he had always had a deep devotion to her. This was something he had never told anyone, and he confided in me. I felt a genuine happiness in knowing that this dedication, although unseen, was still in there. Optimistically, my husband and I continued to pray for Harry’s full return to the faith. A Priceless Gift The year 2020 was cruel to many, and my dear father-in-law was one of its victims. Having taken a bad fall, he was placed in a rehabilitation facility with no personal contact for weeks. His health was beginning to fail, and this strong, vibrant man was beginning to shrink—in stature as well as in light—as the onset of dementia had also become clear. My husband decided to take a chance and ask his father if he would like a visit from a Catholic priest. To our utter surprise, he eagerly agreed—and asked me to supply a copy of the Lord’s Prayer to refresh his memory. Once again, my conversation with him as a teenager immediately came to mind, but this time I felt excitement and hope. In the days that followed, my husband accompanied a priest to his father’s home as mobility was limited now. Harry confidently participated in the Sacrament of Penance and accepted the offering of Holy Communion from his own son. Receiving both of these sacraments for the first time in nearly sixty years was a priceless gift. Harry received the Anointing of the Sick as well, and these precious sacraments indisputably gave him the graces to live out his final weeks in peace. In his final days, his son brought him a rosary, and prayed it around his bedside with our children—knowing that Harry was now walking the fine line between this life and the next. As a devoted child of Our Lady, this seemed a fitting goodbye. Harry passed away peacefully soon afterwards, and our hearts will forever be filled with gratitude to our merciful God and Our Lady for bringing Harry back to the faith before he passed on. Knowing that Harry is at peace with the heavenly angels is of great comfort to us. It may have taken him decades to acknowledge it, after years of unceasing prayers, and a final chance offer from his loving son, but his faith was there. It was always there.

Addicted, sleepless, anxious and feeling lost? Take heart, there is hope. “There is hope.” These were the last words my father spoke to me before he died at the age of 77. These words would be spoken to me twice more and they would change my life. They would take me from a life of addiction to being a disciple of Jesus running a charity for recovering addicts, where the good news of the Gospel takes shape as an everyday, tangible existence, giving hope to all who seek the truth. Let me start at the beginning. I was born the youngest of 6 children in what you would consider a normal middle-class Catholic family where I received the foundations of the Catholic faith. But deek the truth. espite this solid grounding in The Church, I struggled with discipline, understanding, and prayer. I attended Mass, but my faith was weak. By the time I reached adolescence, I was falling away rapidly, and by the time I went to college, all I wanted to do was play live music in a rock band. I dreamed of being a guitar hero while enjoying the party life. I achieved recognition, at least locally, but to function I always needed an intoxicating substance inside me. My substance of choice became alcohol, though later I would become dependent on many substances. Years went by and I drank more and more—whether happy or sad, angry or peaceful, I drank. Going out or staying in, gigging or getting up to work the next day, made no difference. I was alcohol dependent, but I didn’t realise or admit it for many years. After my father died, my anxiety rose to new levels. I was abusing prescribed medications from anxiety blockers, to sleeping tablets, to pain killers and anti-depressants. My life was out of control. I was hospitalized several times over several years, and once spent a week being medically detoxed from alcohol. That’s when I heard those words the second time. I awoke in my hospital bed delirious and babbling, but a nurse was holding my hand and saying, “Mark, it’s ok, there is hope.” Fast forward a few years, and I’m in the very same hospital, only this time I’m sectioned on a ward after admitting to suicidal thoughts. My body was a toxic mix of drugs, pain killers and alcohol.  I became aware of the patient in the bed next to me who was talking to his partner on the phone, and everything he said irritated me. That conversation became entangled with voices I heard in my own head which for years had condemned me. Inexplicably, I suddenly felt the urge to kill the man in the bed beside me. I lay there till midnight thinking that, without alcohol or sleeping tablets, I wouldn’t be able to sleep. I got insanely angry. The urge to do violence to the man beside me grew. I imagined myself chocking him. Did I have it in me to strangle someone? Maybe I did. I thought about putting a pillow over his head and snuffing his breath away. I imagined hitting him as hard as possible and knocking him out cold. Then, I caught myself. “Wait, had I just murdered an innocent man in a hospital bed? Not once, not twice but three times. Who was I? What had I become?  I had killed a man in my heart three times!” I turned my anger toward God. “I believe in You, and now You need to help me,” I cried. But I also blamed him. “Why did You create me just to torment me and send me to hell?” I realised I was weak and had no fight left in me. Because I had used up all my faith in mankind, I needed something or someone to cling to. I had to hope. I had tried dozens of times to get clean on my own with always the same outcome. Now I did something I hadn’t done in many years. Though I had slid far from God and my childhood faith, I remembered my prayers and I began to pray. “I surrender to You, Jesus. Save me. I know You are My God and Saviour, help me!”  I kept praying.  I began to quote Scripture: “Ask and you shall receive.” I said, “Lord Jesus these are Your words. I’m quoting You, so You must listen. These are not my words but Yours,” I knew I was quoting The Bible and I knew it was true, but I had no idea what passage it was. I know now I was quoting Matthew 7:7: “Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. My father’s last words to me had been ‘There is hope’ and here I was quoting Matthew 7:7. Around 7:00 am, I awoke to the sound of a nurse asking me if I wanted a cup of tea. I had slept for seven hours! Most people know that a hospital is no place to get a good night’s sleep, but there I was withdrawing from alcohol, sleeping tablets, and all sorts of other substances and I had just gotten the best night’s sleep in years.  As the nurse was offering me tea and toast, I heard another voice mutter, “There is hope.”  Was it the nurse or was it God talking to me? I decided Jesus had answered my prayers: I had slept for hours and again I was hearing, “There is hope.” But more importantly, something had changed, something profound. My anxiety was gone and I had a faint feeling of happiness and joy.  I wasn’t sure what caused it, but the demons that had tormented me for many years were gone. This was the beginning of the miracle of my conversion, the first of many. I lay there in total peace and thanked Jesus. My journey with Jesus Christ began that day and I continue to walk the road on which he leads me.

Is anger or resentment the only way to deal with unfaithfulness in your life? Sarah Juszczak unravels the path less trodden, through her story of pain and triumph. The Meet-Cute I come from a lovely, Italian family. I was raised and grew up Catholic, but in my teens, although I was going to Mass on Sundays, I wasn’t really living the faith. When I was sixteen, I joined a youth group and that's where I met Tomasz. Tom and I were asked to lead a youth weekend together, so we ended up spending a lot of time together trying to organise it. Soon after, we started “seeing each other”. Neither of us were keen to give our relationship a label- there was no intentionality about it. I was pretty rebellious in my younger years, which Tom hated.  Being Polish, his Catholic faith was important to him, and he had a lot of traditional values. Neither of us really knew our faith or lived it—and because he didn’t really understand the reasons behind his values, it wasn’t hard for me to convince him otherwise. It wasn’t clear where this relationship was headed and it wasn’t the healthiest, but we cared about each other. Fog in the Glass After nearly three years together, Tom and I were starting to think about marriage. Tom was finishing up at university and had always dreamed of spending a few months travelling Europe before getting a full-time job. I was very unsure about this, but something in my heart told me that it was important. This time apart would either make or break us. Just before Tom left for Europe, we joined our youth group at World Youth Day 2008 in Sydney. At that point in my life, I was realizing that my faith life needed to change. I couldn’t continue floating along in what was really a ‘practical atheism’. I went to World Youth Day with this question on my heart: “God, if You exist, show yourself to me. I want to know You”. A couple of talks and experiences really spoke to me that week. As I sat on the train ride home one evening, mulling over the things I had been hearing, I opened the pilgrim’s handbook to a quote from Saint Augustine: “You have made us for yourself, O Lord, and our hearts are restless until they rest in You”. At that moment, I had a sudden and overwhelming awareness of the presence of God. My centre of gravity shifted. I knew that God was real and nothing would be the same again. Soon after, Tomasz left for Europe and I suddenly had a lot of time to spare. I listened to talks on the Theology of the Body, read more about the lives of the Saints and attended weekly Holy Hours. The six months that Tom was away were a time of conversion for me, culminating in a one-month, live-in youth leaders formation course. During that time, I realized that if I wanted to continue on this journey with God, I needed to let go of the things that were leading me away from Him, so that I could follow him wholeheartedly. The Worst Part? With Tomasz away in Europe, I wondered if things would work out for us when he returned home. He was still caught up in a world that I had decided to leave behind, and our values and priorities were now miles apart.  I kept taking this to prayer, and praying for Tom. I tried to plant some seeds, and when some of his travel plans were derailed I managed to convince him to make a detour to Lourdes, which was a powerful experience for him—but he wasn’t ready to make changes yet. When he returned from Europe, I knew we had to have an honest conversation. We went out to dinner and I tried to tell him about some of the things that had been happening in my life. I told him things needed to change about our relationship. For the most part he seemed okay with it, until I told him I wanted him to stop using pornography. He barely hesitated before responding with a flat out “No”. This was quite a shock for me. I thought he’d at least be open it to it. He’d later tell me that he was struggling with a porn addiction, although he wasn’t really aware of that at the time. As the Fog Fades As we continued to recount our experiences during our time apart, it became clearer to him that I was different, and he became somewhat uneasy. When I revealed that I really wanted to pray the Rosary with my family every day when I was married, he reacted very strongly against that. I would try to challenge him and encourage him. As I described my image of family life and how I hoped to live my life, he would push back. He was no longer the most important thing in my life and he didn’t like it one bit. I started to feel that I wasn’t supposed to be in this relationship, so, I asked the Lord for an answer. I knew He wanted me to break up with Tom, but it was difficult because we were in so deep. I tried to break it off several times, but for Tom it was all or nothing. I loved him and didn’t want him out of my life completely. I told the Lord that I didn’t have enough strength to end the relationship myself. The only way it could happen is if Tom messed up big time, but I was certain that it wasn’t possible. Completely Oblivious Not long after, Tom came to see me. He was clearly very nervous, but he finally worked up the courage to come clean. He’d been cheating on me. I was shattered. How could he have betrayed me, when I trusted him so completely? How could he have lied so convincingly, without even batting an eyelid? How could I have been so oblivious? This revelation made me question a lot of things I thought I knew. I never thought Tom was capable of being deceptive and I had thought I was a pretty good judge of character. I discovered he was in the habit of lying and had been for some time. He was frighteningly good at it. Naturally, I threw Tom out straight away. I’ve always had a flair for drama, so I packed up a box of his things that night and called him back to collect them. When I met him outside my house, I completely lost it. I was enraged. To my surprise, he didn’t try to explain or defend himself, he just fell to the ground and wept. Embraced by God It’s hard to articulate what happened in that moment. As I saw Tom crying, all anger in me instantly dissolved. I was so moved with pity and love that I knelt down next to him and embraced him. I can only describe that moment as a glimpse of the Heart of the Father. I felt God’s love and mercy flowing through me, and saw that I was no different to Tomasz. In that moment, God gave me a glimpse of His own Heart as He embraced me and forgave me my own infidelity. Tomasz later described this experience similarly, as if it was God enfolding him within His merciful, loving embrace. I’m not one to let go of things quickly, so the grace to forgive Tomasz so magnanimously definitely came from God, not me. Connecting the Dots Although I forgave Tom, we both knew we needed to go our separate ways. Tom would later say that being dumped was one of the best things that ever happened to him. God had been leading Tom on his own journey, and he needed to do this part without me. On that detour to Lourdes, months earlier, he experienced God guiding him. In fact, God guided him straight to the confessional. When he started to put things into the light, he received the grace to eventually be honest with me. Following our breakup, Tomasz made a conscious effort to turn his life around. He started making regular Holy Hours, going to a priest friend of ours for guidance, and finally got around to listening to the CDs on Theology of the Body that I had been nagging him about since his return from Europe. Little Did I Know Tom and I were together three years before we broke up, and were apart for three years before God brought us back together. During that time, we were able to rebuild our friendship. I was completing my studies, enjoying a new career in marketing and communications and discerning my vocation. I was pretty sure I was going to be a religious Sister. Tom was earning a good living as a rehabilitation consultant, but growing increasingly restless. Both of us earnestly wanted to discover God’s will for our lives. The opportunity to attend WYD 2011 in Madrid came up for each of us on separate pilgrimages. Both of us went with the intention of discovering what God wanted next. I was hoping to meet the religious order I was supposed to join, and Tom was preparing to leave his job, but didn’t know where to go next. By the end of the pilgrimage, Tom had decided to enrol in a Theology course. I was not successful in finding a religious order. Instead, while visiting Poland with my pilgrimage group, I found myself thinking about Tom and how it didn’t seem right to be visiting his homeland without him. Shortly after returning home, I realized that I really needed to pray about God’s will regarding my relationship with Tom, so I started a novena. The same day, Tom invited me to join him in a fifty-four day Rosary Novena for a particular intention–27 days to pray for the intention and 27 days to give thanks. I agreed, but added on my secret, second intention for our relationship. Twenty-seven days into that novena, Tom and I were both at a leadership retreat. Tom was helping to run the retreat while I served in the kitchen.  I dropped in to listen to him give a talk and was struck by how much he had grown. He was really becoming a man of God. I thought to myself, “Here is a man I could entrust myself to.” It turned out that he shared the same intention in the Novena. When we resumed dating, I felt total peace because both of us were seeking God’s will - so there was nothing to fear. To cut a long story short, Tom and I were engaged on the Solemnity of the Assumption of Our Lady. Tom told me that he chose that day, not just because he loved Our Lady, but because it pointed to the ultimate end of the marriage he was proposing: Heaven. We were married on Easter Saturday, or the eve of Divine Mercy Sunday and prayed that our marriage could give witness to the transforming power of God’s Mercy. God had taken the mess that we had made of our relationship the first time around and made it into something completely new. Marriage is a commitment, a vocation, a union. When we made that commitment at the altar to love one another, it was till death do us part. This is where we really learn about love. God doesn’t often ask us to die for our spouse, like Jesus did for us: His Church, but He is asking us to die to ourselves by forgiving each other in little ways every day. Marriage has to be based on loving forgiveness. God forgave us before we even said sorry. He told us to “Love one another as I have loved you.” When we imitate Him and forgive without rancour, then we share real love in a relationship centred on Christ. That relationship will last into eternity.