Coming into Catholicism, I had expected to see these reverent, outwardly devoted Christians. I didn’t. I expected to hear a language… a world within a world. Growing up Protestant, I was used to scripture being quoted in regular conversation, yes, scripture and verse. You could be frustrated that your car wasn’t starting, and after rebuking the devil and his tactics, a friend might say, “All things work together for our good. Romans 8:28.”
Scriptures were not always used in context, but when they were, they encouraged you. It was a language. A posture. “Can I pray with you, brother?” And in the middle of the street, your heads were bowed, and you were praying.
That was the language and attitude.. There were things that only seemed important in the context of that world, like being spiritually employed or meetings about people walking around during praise and worship. Conundrums like: “Should I repeat the prayer of salvation along with those who just went down to the altar, even if I am already saved?” “Why is ‘Hallelujah’ said to be the highest praise?” And if you’re like me, those conundrums and theological holes will lead you to Bible college, sounds a little like “If You Give a Mouse a Cookie.” It was a life. Not all bad, not all good. Just a world within a world.
Catholics don’t do that, not in the same way. In fact, outside the church walls, you’d hardly know who’s Catholic. But once they find out you are, too, it’s like meeting family. There’s a warmth, an eagerness. But still, there’s no obvious language, no T-shirts, no spontaneous prayer circles in the produce aisle. No scripture quoting, because, let’s be honest, most Catholics don’t open their Bibles often. (Sorry, but it’s true.)
Siafa and I have seen upper management in Mass, neighbors, vendors he works with, parents I’ve seen at school and if you look closely, some of your favorite Christian singers are Catholic. Some celebrities reveal it too. Actors. Yes, they’re hidden in plain sight. They’re your grocer, your pilot, your mechanic… but for the most part, there’s no public piety. No T-shirts.
Inside the Mass, it is the most reverent, ornate presentation I have ever been a part of. And you can find that in some Protestant churches. You can also find concert/arena-type services that seem to glorify the production more than Christ.
I came into the Church ready to shout to the world that I was now a Catholic. But as the excitement died down, it became my walk with Christ. That’s hard to explain. Catholics love converts, I’m told. We have so much enthusiasm it reignites the flame of faith in them. But it does die down. Things are not novelty anymore. And when that happens, it feels like you just had a party and now everyone is gone… you’re left with the mess to clean up.
“…He has sent me to proclaim liberty to the captives
Luke 4:17 ESV
and recovering of sight to the blind,
to set at liberty those who are oppressed,
19 to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.”
“So what now?” I asked myself. It was me and Christ, and He was reworking my understanding of living. I felt free. Free to write. Free to blog. Free to move. I didn’t need permission anymore from spiritual leaders. I could live my life. The life that Christ died for. It was actually scary. Like when Seven broke free of that testing facility, the world is a frightening place when you’re not spiritualizing everything. Color was brighter. Food was just food. Not my weakness. Not my struggle. Just food.
I was drawn to virtues, a word I knew and used, but now seemed to be what my heart longed for. I could stop and notice the beauty of His creation and that was enough… no more striving… no more proving myself to others… no more standing in line to get permission from the Man of God. Freedom. So, like Disney’s Rapunzel, when I was out of the tower—I lived. And I am still living.
I remember once after conversion, I found myself in a bit of a situation. It was complicated, and initially, I saw no way to rectify it. Prior to conversion, I would pray, call out to God, ask Him to intervene, do something, save me from this impending doom. And that was my first thought to do.
But then I remembered something I heard at Mass: “You formed man in your own image and entrusted the whole world to his care.”
My second thought was, “God has entrusted mankind with the world.” That puts humans at the top, and the world is our stewardship
I knew God could help me. I also knew that God gave me a brain, so before I give up, I need to think of how I can fix the situation. I researched. I made calls. I bounced ideas off Siafa. I fixed the problem. And when it was done, I knew, God got the glory. Because He made me a steward. A supervisor. Someone who could be trusted to make decisions with Him, not just wait for Him to make them for me.
And the beauty is Christ was with me the entire time.
I’ve taken that approach in almost every area of my life.
And I am happier. Unafraid. Emboldened.
I love that the Protestant side of me has a scripture for this also: “It is for freedom that Christ has set you free.” Galatians 5
If this post spoke to you…
Share it with someone who might need it, too. Whether it’s a quiet encouragement or a new way of seeing things, these reflections are meant to be passed along.
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Martina Griffin is a Catholic convert, writer, wife, and mother of four. She writes about faith, motherhood, beauty, books, and the quiet ache of transformation. A lover of popcorn, deep questions, and old classics, she shares her heart at Big Bowl of Popcorn—one post at a time. Instagram | Facebook | Email Me |
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