WHEN GOD CALLS
Kathy Bernard - Publisher

"Amazing Grace how sweet it sounds,
That Saved a wretch like me;
I once was lost but now am found
Was blind but now I see."

I had never given much thought about eternity and figured that I was doing fine in that department.  Religion was just there.  It was commonplace to me.  I expounded with the rest of my peers about differences in faith and got particularly vehement with Catholics concerning modes of belief.  I went to church, I believed in God, and I felt because I was all wrapped up neatly in a religious home, somehow things would sort themselves out.  My father, a convert from Catholicism, was a strict Baptist minister, the kind who would not permit alcohol or nonreligious music in the home.  Of course movie going and concert attendance was out of bounds until I reached the age of 13 when my mother persuaded my father to grant limited permission for my brother, sisters and I to go to movie theaters.  Due to my mother’s influence at this time we were also allowed to listen to popular music on the radio instead of a steady diet of classical and church music.

My whole family went faithfully to church each and every Sunday.  I knew the Bible well; since I listened to my Dad speak daily on the 66 books of the Bible (King James Version).  One only had to say a line from the Bible and he could tell you precisely where it was found.  And we children were tested as well.  We were required to attend all funerals in respect, and the family went en masse to visit the sick.  It was so commonplace to do these things that if a neighborhood funeral was in session I would stop in and pay my respects.

In most Protestant faiths, children are not baptized at birth because it is believed that each person should choose to accept Christ into their hearts before baptism.   Instead they were dedicated to God shortly after birth in a ceremony similar to Catholic baptism without the water with two people, generally a man and a woman, as godparents.  In order for baptism to take place among those who had not accepted Christ personally there were the Altar calls which meant standing in front of the altar and having the minister(s) pray over those people who came forward.  My brother, sisters and I had to go up front with all the other unbaptized children and adults for prayer.  This was a hated time because I felt the pressure of the church and family to accept Christ personally in front of everybody present during this time. 

After the prayer my father seemed to hold his breath, hoping we would feel the power of God within us and say we accepted Christ as our personal Savior and wanted baptism. What a disappointment I was, having been pushed forward at each altar call year after year by my mother only to return to the pew hanging my head so I would not see my father trying to hide his disappointment in me.  My brother was the only shining star since he accepted Christ at the tender age of 5 and announced he would follow in my father’s footsteps and become a minister too.  This was not to be but it sustained my father for a very long time.

Because I was not baptized as a Protestant, this did not mean I thought there was something wrong or lacking within that denomination; I was simply not ready to commit to anything.  I was proud of my parents and what they believed but I was not sure within my heart what road I should take.   If pressed I probably would have said when the time was right, I would choose to go the way of my parents.   

Upon graduation from high school, I decided to go to a Catholic university, not because it was Catholic but because it suited what I wanted in other ways.   Of course when I entered, I righteously carried all my anti-Catholic prejudices with me.  Protestantism was more than just a religion to me; it was a way of life, in spite of being unbaptized.  I refused to use the Catholic version of the Bible in my theology classes that were required, instead carrying my tattered old King James Bible from class to class.  Although I had great admiration for the priests and sisters, I could not understand why a person would choose such a life.  After having lived with a father who was a minister, and as a child I considered him boring to the extreme, I could not fathom why one would choose to dress up in black every single day in steamy New Orleans while living a celibate life.  During class, I would ponder this and was quite surprised when one of the nuns, wearing one of those heavy white, starched affairs surrounding her face and a black long veil on top of that on her head, spoke of being willing to give up her life rather than be violated in some way contrary to God’s teachings.  This statement gave me pause.  At that age I was a mass of feelings, self-importance, and hormones.  The priests were another matter.  They seemed at ease with their priesthood and most were full of jokes and somehow they made me think a lot whenever they spoke about life in general.  None tried to persuade, perhaps because most of the students were Catholic.

"Twas Grace that taught my heart to fear,
And Grace my fears relieved;
How precious did that grace appear
The hour I first believed."
 

I remember talking to my Catholic friends, telling them what I thought about their religion.  In spite of this thinking I found myself slipping into the college chapel on many occasions.  It seemed a place of peace and tranquillity, away from the hellish world of books and grades, the clamor of people and the social climbing in the co-op.   I would stare at the statures and remember that my father had strong and unkind thoughts about those figures.  I also used that time to ponder things I had heard in Theology class that had seeped into my consciousness without me realizing it.  I had never thought much about offering my disappointments or hurt to God before or thinking about Him in such a strange, new light.  To me He was a judging and harsh Being and only Jesus seemed approachable and user friendly.  He was the one I could call on to understand my ups and downs so He was the one I thought most often about.   But still, I felt no need to change my lifestyle.  I was a good person, clean living and pure, never ever in trouble. After classes I would leave my Catholic University and return home each day to my Protestant background that I refused to let go of.  But I was mainly happy and secure and life was becoming quite an adventure with all the new experiences.    

                                                                                                                                                      
I do not know when things started to change for me.  I was content one day and the next I would feel an unrest that I could not shake or put my finger on.  I was on the threshold of life and this time should have been filled with thinking about my classes, my future and all those adorable boys with the roving eyes that were beginning to focus on me.  I would lie awake at night and wonder about some of the things I had listened to at school.  Bits and snippets of things began to seep into my subconscious.  Why I do not know because no one bothered me about religion except my parents.  No one tried force to change me at the university, nor was I aware that they even knew or cared that I was deeply rooted in a completely different faith.

During this time I became emotional and secretive at home.  I could feel the worried eyes of my father and mother settling on me. Of course, I could not allow them to see the change and unrest within. That was a big no, so I kept my thoughts to myself.  But they knew anyway.  Religious thoughts had started to become highly charged in my mind and I could no longer sleep. I was not interested in anything, the handsome boys had no effect on me whatsoever, and I started waking up in the middle of the night and walking to my bedroom window to stare at the sky and wonder, “Is there a God”?  If so why can’t I feel His presence?  I had naturally assumed God was there but now it seemed so much was at stake that I wanted some proof.  I begged God to show me some kind of sign.  Anything at all.   I became obsessed with knowing more about this God that I was always sure I knew from all the Bible classes and Sunday school sessions I attended as a child.  I knew I had crossed an invisible bridge where I found myself alone with my Godly questions.  I could not talk to my father.  I felt he would then be able to see some change that I could not let him see.  Or perhaps it was because he would have rushed me to the Baptist church for baptism and this didn’t seem to be what I needed or what I wanted.  And yet I didn’t know what I really wanted for I had no experience with these new feelings.

This went on for several months and I grew more and more agitated and disturbed.  I kept reaching inside myself for the answer and not finding it, only fragmented bits and pieces. I kept asking God to show me something, anything, to bring peace into my life.  I was sleepless, I lost my appetite and my world had become a foreign land with some unseen power pulling the strings of my young life.  I was searching, reaching for the peace that only God could give me.  At the time I didn’t know that.   I did not feel I could do this by myself and furthermore I wasn't sure I could trust my feelings.   And there were the members of my family to consider.

"Through many dangers, toils and snares,
I have already come;
'Tis Grace that brought me safe thus far
And Grace will lead me home."

I began to pray in earnest for some kind of relief.  Finally I knew I could not carry this burden alone.  I decided to go talk to the priest in residence at school. Father John Joseph Conroy, S.S.J., A.B., S.T.L., Professor of Theology; Chaplain at the University was a big, burly, overweight guy who smiled a lot and loved to tell jokes but one could sense a dedication within him.  I sat there in his office on the other side of his desk and poured out my heart as he handed me tissue after tissue to wipe my streaming eyes. And then he did the most amazing thing.   He laughed out loud.  He knew!  He knew that Godwas calling out to me.  He talked, consoled, and then he told me to go see a priest at Corpus Christi Catholic Church and start taking instructions in the Catholic Faith. Somehow this immediately soothed and gave me purpose. 

I started taking instructions in the Catholic faith.  Me!  After the required preparation time, baptism was scheduled. There were still some things I could not justify or believe in within the Church but I also found the peace I sought.  I was home.  God had a plan for my life.  I knew I had to tell my parents first and this was the hardest thing I ever had to do.  My father, a deeply religious man, never forgave me and carried the knowledge of my desertion within his heart to the grave.   To him, I had lost my soul forever.  I am sure my parents had hoped that I would come to my senses and return back to the fold.  Needless to say neither attended my baptism nor did any of my siblings.   No one was in attendance except a good college girl friend.

"When we've been there ten thousand years,
Bright shining as the sun;
We've no less days to sing His praise,
Then when we first begun."

There was a joy that came to me with that baptism.  Such a joy I never had experienced before.  There were feelings I had never, ever felt.  And Satan was not happy.  Because I was young and just beginning life Satan became very active during that time, offering all kinds of beautifully wrapped inducements.  I knew what this was and I laughed to myself.  These temptations came in stunning packaging and were meant to “lure” me away from my now perfect state of Grace.  With newfound faith and the descent of the Holy Spirit it was easy to reject these things. I felt brand new.  The whole world was different.  It was as if I could finally see everything in brilliant color.  I looked different, transformed somehow.  There was a serenity I did not have before and a new confidence about me that others saw and puzzled over.  My soul had peace and tranquillity and I now knew what it was to be a Christian; I had become a child of God, secure in the knowledge of His promises and His love.  I had been taken into the comfort and safety of His precious arms and I could feel the stamp of His power within my heart. I rejoiced and reveled in His Glory. I was a new whole person; redeemed, reborn and sanctified by His Grace. 

And now these years later I look forward to the day when all denominations come together in harmony before the Lord.   I look forward to the day when I will see my mom and dad again in glory because I want to thank them for their prayers and their dedication in teaching me all about the Bible and loving God.  Today this continues to serve me well.  How proud they will be to know that although I took a different path we all ended up in a direct line to our Heavenly Father.

This is my story.  It had a beginning but it will have no end.  Thanks be to God Almighty.

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