Who am I? Part Deux.
When it comes to having been Catholic, I’ve always proceeded with caution. Until now having that in my past has been troublesome, not because it actually is or should be deemed so but I had convinced myself that it was. Being Catholic is something I was in the past, kind of like an alcoholic or something, at least that’s the way I made myself think of it. Pondering this always induced feelings of anger and relief. Angered by the fact that I was connected to a group that people found reason to hate, one that people labeled as not getting into heaven, and one that was continually being painted with a corrupt brush. Not to mention the fact that I had declared a revolution in my family and erected a wall of piety between my parents and I, for no other reason other than that I had decided that my ministry to them would be to show them their evil Catholic ways. I was relieved to have separated myself from them (Catholics, baby-baptizers, pope supporters, alcoholics, and any other label I had convinced myself they were worthy of). I was hard-pressed to make sure that my beliefs were the right ones, ones that would certainly get me into heaven, and ones that were well outside the reach of any Catholic tendencies. Being Catholic was a poison, and I thought being Protestant was the antidote.
It wasn’t until recently that I began to sniff out my own sub-conscious inclination to run from who I was, and to realize that this wasn’t how things were meant to be. The problem wasn’t with Catholicism AT ALL; it was with my presuppositions and me. One thing I picked up while calling myself a Protestant was that scripture and true Christianity (i.e. Romans 6:6, Ephesians 4:22, and Colossians 3:9) required that I abhor, run from, and revolt against who I was in the past. For me, it wasn’t about despising my sin it was about despising myself. I guess you can imagine that this wasn’t a good time for me. I was an overly dramatic teen who often compared his life to Job and asked why he had to be born into such wretched family. I figured I was well on my way to being the next Billy Graham, if only I could manage a small excursion through depravity with a few sexual escapades and alcoholic debaucheries (we all know these are perfect ingredients for a great testimony).
still more to come...
It wasn’t until recently that I began to sniff out my own sub-conscious inclination to run from who I was, and to realize that this wasn’t how things were meant to be. The problem wasn’t with Catholicism AT ALL; it was with my presuppositions and me. One thing I picked up while calling myself a Protestant was that scripture and true Christianity (i.e. Romans 6:6, Ephesians 4:22, and Colossians 3:9) required that I abhor, run from, and revolt against who I was in the past. For me, it wasn’t about despising my sin it was about despising myself. I guess you can imagine that this wasn’t a good time for me. I was an overly dramatic teen who often compared his life to Job and asked why he had to be born into such wretched family. I figured I was well on my way to being the next Billy Graham, if only I could manage a small excursion through depravity with a few sexual escapades and alcoholic debaucheries (we all know these are perfect ingredients for a great testimony).
still more to come...
keep it coming!
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