A Conversion Story

Thought this was appropriate for Lent. It's a true story.

There was a man who fell in love with a Catholic woman. Now this man was 11 years older than her, and a professed atheist. He had not always been an atheist, but was, rather, raised in the Church of Christ. By the time he was twenty, however, he had turned his back to God. Someone once wrote that there were no atheists in foxholes, and in combat this might be true, but there are atheists in uniform, and he had been one of them. The idea of "God" amused him more than anything, and he had no regrets at how he treated people, the drunken nights, the women he was involved with, the collapsed first marriage - it was just life, just, well, "stuff." No big deal.

But then he met the woman. He asked questions. He was often quite hostile in asking how she could simply accept what she believed. You see, he expected a full philosophical or theological approach to her answers - discourse, illumination. It was, she said, faith. That's all. You have it or you don't. She obviously did, and it drew him even closer, this thing that he really could not or, rather, was afraid to, open himself to.

So he decided to attend mass with her, to see what it was all about. He was welcomed with open arms. Though he didn't understand everything and could not partake in communion, those around her, her friends and loved ones, welcomed him warmly and with a love that he had never experienced. Of course there were more questions, things that she could not answer to his satisfaction, so they began to attend classes - RCIA - together. Then a really funny thing happened, and he believed.

Or at least he thought he did. One Easter it was time for him to be received into the church. The man still had many unanswered questions and drove the nun who taught RCIA a bit nuts with his constant questions, but all felt that he was ready. So he and the woman attended mass together. Gnawing at him were still many questions that he did not believe had been adequately addressed, but by now he loved the woman totally and was willing to believe as she did, or so he constantly convinced himself (though he was not aware of this at the time).

There was always that little nagging bit of doubt that was there. He listened, and watched, during the consecration. "This is it." he thought, as he made his way to the front. He took the host. "Hmmm," he thought, "I expected more." Then to the wine.

Just a small sip was all it took.

You know how when you have a bloody nose, you get that particular taste in your mouth? Well, the man tasted blood in his mouth stronger than he had ever before. Transubstantiation, he thought, was a silly concept. Maybe, he allowed, it occurred for the exceptionally holy, but not for all, certainly not for him. But it had, and shook him to the core of what he thought, up to then, were his beliefs. The wine had become blood, he realized, and his doubts fell away.

Good things have continued to happen to him, things he never expected, and his faith has grown stronger every day.

Because of blood.