“It is for freedom that Christ has set us free.”
Galatians 5:1
I have said this word so many times since becoming Catholic.
Freedom.
If I had to describe what conversion has felt like, that would be the word.
I grew up Pentecostal. When I met and married my husband, he was very conservative in his faith practice, so we eventually found ourselves among like-minded people in Reformed Baptist and Presbyterian circles. For over twenty years, I lived within those expressions of Christianity.
I loved Jesus. I believed the gospel. I read my Bible.
But I had never experienced this kind of mercy.
I had never known this kind of freedom.
When I was preparing to become Catholic, there came a moment I both dreaded and longed for.
My first confession.
Not a vague, “Lord forgive me for my sins.”
Not a general washing.
But a full confession. From age twelve to the present.
The deepest things. The darkest things. The secrets.
The things that had followed me for years like an accusing voice.
The best way I knew to survive that moment was to prepare. So I wrote everything down on a sheet of paper.
But then fear crept in.
What if a strong wind came and blew the paper out of my hand?
What if it landed on someone’s windshield?
What if they read my failings and then looked up and saw me standing there?
So I did what any rational woman would do.
I wrote half of it in code.
Just in case.
The only problem was that by the time I sat down in Father Martin’s office, some of the codes didn’t make sense anymore. Even now, that part makes me laugh. I was so afraid of being exposed that I nearly confused myself into silence.
But I did it.
I confessed everything.
I cried. I could barely get the words out. Father Martin asked a few gentle clarifying questions. He looked at me with kindness, not shock. He prayed for me. I prayed the Act of Contrition off the card because my voice was trembling too much to trust my memory.
He gave me a simple penance. A litany to pray daily.
And Christ was faithful and just to forgive and cleanse me from all unrighteousness.
Confession after confession, I would walk in thinking, “This will be the time God says enough. This will be the time He sends me back to the orphanage.”
But He never did.
Saying your sins out loud to a priest is, ironically, one of the most liberating experiences I have ever known.
What once festered as guilt and shame now feels like the little man behind the voice of Oz. All smoke and theatrics. The accusations that loomed so large lost their power when dragged into the light.
Christ was there.
Not shocked.
Not disgusted.
Not reluctant.
Just merciful.
And something began to take shape inside me.
God loves.
God loves us.
God loves me.
God so loved the world that He gave His Son.
Freedom always comes at a cost.
And the freedom Christ gives is not just freedom from punishment. It is freedom from the constant self-accusation. Freedom from the fear that one day you will be exposed and finally rejected.
It is freedom to love.
Freedom to try again.
Freedom to develop the gifts He planted in you without the weight of shame whispering that you are disqualified.
Free to love others, because His love for me despite my failings is astonishing.
Free to write, because cultivating the talents He gave me is not pride, it is stewardship.
Free to just be.
Not striving to earn.
Not terrified and ashamed
Just free.
If you’d like to read more about how I found my way into the Catholic faith, you can do so below.
- A Different Kind of Freedom
- For Freedom
- Coming into Catholicism: A Journey to Quiet Freedom
- Why I Left Protestantism
- The Pull Toward Something Greater
- Discovering God: An Onion of Faith
- All Roads Lead to Healing
- The First Mass I Ever Attended
- What I Found in the Eucharist
- The Hardest Part About Converting
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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