I
love conversion stories. They are testimonies to God’s grace, His patience, His
love, His mercy. They are stories of people
whose lives changed direction when they said, “Yes” to God’s call.
Here
is the story of William (Bill) May, a new friend of mine.
By
the way, I would love to share YOUR conversion story with others. Send it to me
and I will post it to my blog, with links from my various FaceBook accounts.
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♫ Here I am, Lord ♫
Until eighteen years ago, my life
journey had not included God. I was a
sometime Baptist or Methodist, occasional deist, an often agnostic who wasn’t
interested in inviting God into my life.
After all, life was going pretty good so why complicate things. Oh, I attended Mass sporadically with my wife
Frances, and I honored my prenuptial instructions in the Catholic Church by not
objecting to her raising the children Catholic.
On three different occasions I even started RICA Classes, each time
dropping out on some pretense.
Additionally, there were a number of other Catholic “distractions” that
made it convenient to stay away and not actually inquire.
The devil’s job is
easy. If you don’t start your faith
journey, he wins, no matter what.
I’m
not sure just when I lowered my crossed arms and allowed my journey towards
Christ to begin. There wasn’t a huge
awakening, where all of a sudden I saw the light fell to my knees and accepted
Christ as my Savior—it was subtler than that; a thought here, a question there,
all leading towards the realization that something was missing in my life and
that I did need help.
My
son Will toyed with the idea of Fundamentalism and I witnessed two close
friends we respected lay hands upon him as a minister prayed for him. Will stepped back from the edge and dove into
Catholic research devouring books and tapes.
He and my wife became my spiritual leaders.
One
day I realized that I wanted what my brothers and sisters in the Catholic faith
had. This time when I started RCIA
Classes, I finished. There were still
trying moments. I actually said to the
class leader, “The only reason I’m attending classes is that it is the price that
I have to pay to become a Catholic”. On
another occasion my statement was something along the line, “I just want to
join the Church; I don’t want to do anything.”
I’ll not bore you with my other dumb remarks. Just know, though, God showed great patience
with me for sixty-one years and every day in my morning and evening prayers I
thank Him.
During
late summer of 1997 (the year I joined the Church) I noticed in the Church
bulletin a call for an 8th grade Religious Education teacher. It was written that if they didn’t find a
person, they would have to cancel the class.
My Parish, Saint Paul the Apostle, is very large and I didn’t see how
they would have trouble finding a teacher.
However, for three straight weeks, the same call was in the bulletin; uh,
oh, was God calling me?
In
Mass one morning we sang the song, Here I
am, Lord, and the words in the refrain go, Here I am, Lord. Is it I, Lord?
I have heard You calling in the night.
I will go Lord, if you lead me. I
will hold your people in my heart.
For four years I’ve was the 8th grade Religious teacher. It was a labor of love and growth. I don’t know if the classes learned much, but
I know that I benefited beyond my wildest imagination.
Cradle
Catholics take for granted things that I’m just learning. My faith journey is real, personal, and
includes my Lord, my Savior, my Friend, and my Brother, Jesus Christ. I now know that it is through Jesus that I
come to God a repentant sinner who tries daily to become a better person. I’m getting better because I have God as my
coach and He never lets us down. Never!
When
my son told me that I should attend a Cursillo weekend I filled out the
application and went. My attitude going
was, “What the heck, it won’t hurt me, and perhaps I’ll learn something”. Little did I know what was in store for
me? As I look back on my journey to
Christ, and now with God, I can now see all of the signs placed along my way
for me to know He was there with me. I
just wasn’t willing to use my eyes to see or my ears to hear. My Cursillo was a weekend of sign, after
sign, after sign. Only this time, I was
looking for them.
♫
Is it I, Lord? I have heard you
calling in the night. I will go, Lord,
if you lead me.
I
will hold your people in my heart. ♫
With
Christ, we are an overwhelming majority!