When I was born it was expected that I would be baptized. My mother’s family was raised catholic, my mother went to Catholic school and she had her Holy Communion in the Catholic Church. I don’t even pretend to remember the day, but I have seen the pictures. A few week old baby, dressed in a long white lacey gown and bonnet, held over a sacred bowl, with water being poured over my head by the Preacher. Next were cries of joy from the family and cries of shock from me. I don’t think babies appreciate the significance of what this moment truly symbolizes.
Years went by and I hardly placed a foot in church. The Bible, God and Jesus were not common household words unless they were being used to curse something. When I did go to church it was a Catholic Church. I was ever so bored during the service and felt really bad for all the older people who had to stand, kneel and sit on command. It seemed like a great deal of routine and chanting to a small child. None of it penetrated my heart.
To make things worse what I knew of the Catholic faith was dirtied by my mother’s horrible experiences with the nuns in her school. My mother was left handed; in her day that was considered a sign of satan. She was forced to write with her right hand and when she naturally defaulted to the left she would get smacked with a ruler on the hand. This hardly seemed appealing to me.
As I got older God began to soften my heart, and hints of whispers were reaching my soul. He wanted my attention, and He wanted me to know His son. I just did not feel like I could find Him in the faith I was baptized in. My idea of what Catholics stood for was so polluted. I began my own search over the years through various denominations.
I visited every denomination that was close to my home, several being Baptist Churches. Each time I went to a Baptist Church I felt very welcome and at home. Free to worship the Lord out loud and outside of any strict ritualistic guidelines. Not long after 9/11 and my daughter’s medical crisis I became baptized at a Baptist Church; converting from the path of Catholicism that my family had always followed to something that suited my heart and spirit. My daughter has also accepted Christ through baptism at the age of eleven. The direction of faith for our family has changed.
Now to be fair, my view of the Catholic faith did not come from a fair point of view, all I knew of it was my mother’s experience. That clouded any clear view I could ever have of this denomination. I have since made it a habit to understand what each denomination stands for, what is at the heart of the believers and why they choose that route. I believe the Lord steers us in the direction we should go and places us where He can best use our gifts for His Glory. Denomination aside, the end result is having a relationship with our All Mighty Father. For me I found Him in a Baptist Church.