In 2008 I wrote an article about my first experience of the Lord Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament on Divine Mercy Sunday, 2000. Saint Faustina has been so instrumental in my life ever since. I spent most of 2009 grazing through her diary and learning from her. She had such a unique relationship with Jesus and a keen understanding of the suffering of humanity because of sin.
Of course, ten years ago, I had no idea who she was or what was meant by Divine Mercy. I didn't even know that it was Divine Mercy Sunday when I attended Mass that evening. I was just a curious person wanting to understand the Catholic faith better.
Actually, there was more to it than that. But at the time I was not really aware of what God was up to in my life. I thought I was just satisfying a curiosity, but in retrospect, I can see the hand of God slowly removing one stone after another from my thick wall of resistance toward anything Catholic.
Actually, it seems like some monumental miracle had already taken place without my knowledge. When I remember how I was and how resistant and even bigoted I was against anything Catholic, the fact that I attended a Catholic Mass at all indicates that something huge had happened.
There had been a number of gentle nudges along the way that the Holy Spirit had made in such tenderness that I never saw the huge shift in my thinking. He had planted a couple of friends in my life that never preached but just lived a quiet contradiction to my bigotry. They lived a Christlike life in the context of their Catholic faith. They never preached, not even a little. But I knew Christ lived in them in a dynamic way. They left me puzzled and unsettled.
I became acquainted with a couple of Christian artists who were either Catholic or were interested in the Catholic faith. Their music presented Christ and the gospel in ways that were both scriptural and contradictory to my long held concepts of both. They opened my eyes to a more Traditional Christianity that started to make some obscure scripture passages stand up and demand to be reckoned with.
There was a promotional sound bite on one of the local Christian stations concerning a debate my brother was having with Tim Staples. It couldn't have been more than a minute or two long, but I remember Tim's voice as he quoted scripture and I remember thinking that there was something in what he said that needed further investigation because it did not fit with what I had always held as truth. But I had shelved that moment until a later date.
I remember a chance encounter with a man who worked with Catholics oversees and how I had felt the moving of God's Spirit in what He said and couldn't figure out how someone so friendly with Catholics could even be Christian. (yes, I was that bigoted)
There were other even more seemingly insignificant encounters with truth that seemed to poke pin sized holes in what I thought was truth. I'm certain there were things I didn't notice and don't remember. But the fact is that in order to move the mountain of my blindness, God had to start by carrying away pebbles one at a time.
When I was working with Diane after my own counseling was completed and I was working with other abused women, she shared with me a vision she had had. She had asked God for a peak into what life held for her. She had just gone through some deep, deep suffering and she just wanted some assurance that God had a plan. I decided that I would ask God the same question. I figured if God could give her some assurance about His plan for her, He could give me some. Instead, I got what I considered a bit of God's sense of humor. I clearly saw a doorway with a curtain hanging over the door jam. I could tell that a brilliant light was shining on the other side of the door, but at that point in time the curtain was nailed firmly around the whole door jam. My interpretation was that there was a lot of hope in the future, but I was not to ask about it. In retrospect I know what that light was. It was the Splendor of Truth in the Catholic faith. It was Him in all His Glory in His Church, but I was not ready for that revelation. He had many pebbles and boulders to move before I would be willing to walk through that doorway or even before He dared give me a peak beyond the curtain.
I praise Him for His patience and gentleness in how He brought me home. He knew I had an instant fear of anything that my family did not preach as truth. He knew I was afraid of thinking independently, so He spoon fed me for several years before
He presented Himself to me in the Blessed Sacrament at St. James Catholic Church on Divine Mercy Sunday, 2000.
