Interior Catholic

  • Matthew 16:18

    And I say also unto thee, That thou art Peter, and upon this rock I will build my church; and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it. (KJV)

    I decided to show my face in the baptist church today, because I haven’t yet told them that I’m leaving, and haven’t attended for several weeks. The church as a whole feels like that relationship you should’ve ended by now—it’s easier to stick with it, because you don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings, and you still remember all the good times so maybe it’s not so bad. (Honey, just dump him.)

    During the message, I expected God would reveal reasons why I shouldn’t be there anymore. I anticipated the Catholic bashing, which I could’ve dealt with. I thought maybe he’d talk about the rapture, something I’d learned to ignore before. But I did not expect him to preach on the very verse where Jesus builds his church.

    And I certainly didn’t expect him to declare that Jesus, not Peter, is “this rock.”
    I squinted at my Bible—because I didn’t dare look up with that expression on my face—and thought, That’s not right.

    It wasn’t just the inaccuracy. It struck me because I remember very clearly the moment I learned of Peter’s role in the early church. It was one of the first things I’d learned about in the Catholic faith. The preacher went on to talk about Peter, how he was often a “leader” among the apostles and the guy in charge. But he never once said that Peter had anything to do with building the church.

    And it wasn’t just Peter, either—it was the invitation. It was, “the Bible says you have to accept Jesus into your heart.” (It doesn’t.) It was watering down salvation to a mere prayer, its purpose being our ascension into Heaven rather than anything glorifying God. I’m horrified by how many thousands of time I’ve heard this and never realized how self-centered it is.

    I’ve been putting off my official departure. I don’t know how I’ll tell them; I’m too rooted in this church to simply disappear. But surprisingly, I’m not anxious over it. It won’t be fun, like any breakup, but I’m not worried. Because God had guided me thus far. And He’ll continue to guide me to the end, even (maybe especially) during the parts I don’t want to do.

    , ,

  • The Good Book

    As a kid, junior church was the place to be. It was a separate kids’ service, less boring than the main worship service, where we could learn the Bible on our own level. It was at junior church that I first learned of God, and of Jesus, and of all those stories in the Old Testament that are the foundation of our faith.

    Once during service, we played a game where I was the victor. I don’t recall the game at all. But I do recall that I had a variety of prizes to choose from, and one of them was a Bible. I’d never owned a Bible, and our teacher seemed surprised that I’d selected it. But I liked books, and I liked God, so it only made sense that I have His book. I still have that Bible. I’d like to say it’s falling apart from my constant reading, but it’s not. The Good Book was too confusing at the time.

    I’ve acquired other Bibles over the years—A gift from my parents after college. A study Bible with extensive footnotes. A pocket-sized version with a magnifying glass. A faux leatherbound of an easier-to-read translation. More recently, a study Bible in a different translation. A Catholic Bible with the deuterocanonical books.

    I have a lot of Bibles. I like books, and I like God.

    At RCIA last night, our teacher gifted us each with a Bible.

    It was like I’d never received a book before. I handled it gently, studying the characters stamped on the cover and opening it slowly as the spine creaked in my hands. I’d almost forgotten about receiving my first Bible in junior church until that moment—the childlike wonder of handling the inspired Word of God. And there I was, twenty years later, receiving a Bible from my teacher. Again. Learning of God’s wonder in print. Again.

    My life is defined by books. It’s my livelihood. It’s my hobby. More than that, it’s my connection to God. When I first entered the faith, I was rewarded with a copy of His book. So it’s only fitting that I continue to receive Him in the same way on this journey. It’s a seemingly small sign, but one that means volumes to someone who highly values the printed word. (Or Word, as the case may be.)

And they said to him, “Inquire of God, we pray thee, that we may know whether the journey on which we are setting out will succeed.”

And the priest said to them, “Go in peace. The journey on which you go is under the eye of the LORD.”

—Judges 18:5–6

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