The Sacrament of Reconciliation and How going to Confession Heals.

I've seen non-Catholics make comments in reference to going to confession and how it's one of those "works" things and how this proves that Catholicism is a "works-based" religion. From the outside looking in, I suppose it looks like we Catholics can sin to our hearts content and then just go to confession and get clean and then sin again. My Atheist sister made that sort of snide remark and I had to correct her and explain that if a Catholic goes to confession without intending on changing their behavior then they would be lying and not getting any benefit from it.

My answer to other Christians who scoff at the idea of Catholics going to confession is, don't knock it until you've tried it. Confession is not some license to sin again.  As a matter of fact, not nearly enough Catholics take advantage of this wonderful Sacrament. It's a terrible shame because the graces you receive from going to confession are indescribable. Yes, it's hard to admit you've done wrong to a virtual stranger and sometimes, the priest isn't a virtual stranger. In a smaller parish they may even know your name. It doesn't matter either way. They are standing in for Jesus and acting in His name and that's who we're really confessing our sins to. The priest acts as a conduit of His graces. Receiving these graces is very healing and it has to be experienced to understand the magnitude of it's power.

Here's just one example of what I mean by this Sacraments power to heal. Several months ago, as I came to realize that my toddler son was on the Autism spectrum, I was in deep turmoil and not at all at peace. I was angry and in despair and to say I wasn't handling it with grace would be an understatement. I dragged myself to confession, talked to the priest, confessed my sins and then left and had an overwhelming supernatural kind of peace wash over me. Nothing changed. The priest didn't say anything enlightening. My son's condition didn't change. The circumstances were exactly the same after going to confession as they were before. But my attitude was completely different. I suddenly was handling it. I wasn't steeped in darkness. I felt peace and joy. There's no other reason other than the fact that I went to confession. My problems suddenly don't seem so overwhelming and insurmountable. I know of others who experience the same thing. So I take advantage of this Sacrament because I know it's doing something for me. Something that is supernatural and beyond my human comprehension. It's healing me. It's healing my wounded heart. All the puss and gunk gets washed off and disinfected and wrapped in fresh bandages. The wounds get redressed and overtime are completely healed. This is what going to confession does for me. Little by little, my soul is being healed and I'm better able to handle the crosses I have to carry. I have strength for the journey. This is how the Sacrament of Reconciliation heals and I'd be insane not to take advantage of this free healthcare. 

What if?

I consider myself a "convert" even though as a child I was baptized in the Catholic Church. But I was not raised in it. I was raised in a non-believing secular family. I read other's conversion stories and a lot of them are from other Christian denominations. I find them very fascinating because these people already had a deep relationship with Jesus and knew the Bible inside and out and even had some anti-catholic prejudices. I didn't have much to lose when I came into full communion with the Church. I was my biggest hurdle. I had my pride to overcome but that was pretty much it. Don't get me wrong. Pride is a HUGE hurdle. But our protestant brothers and sisters who converted not only had their pride but also risked losing family members, friends, their source of income, (if they were clergy,) and other outside oppositional influences. And yet, they still became Catholic.

I ponder if I had become a non-Catholic Christian, if I'd have done the same. I'm afraid I wouldn't have. There were some occasions when I could have joined another church but there always seemed to be an obstacle. I got the sense that God was putting up the hurdles. Sometimes I even wondered when these hurdles popped up if God just didn't want me. I wasn't worthy enough. But I look back now and see that He did want me. He wanted all of me and had I gone with another tradition I might have become disillusioned and left Christianity altogether. Knowing how weak and faint of heart I was, He put up those hurdles so I'd go straight to the source.

So I really admire those who converted from other Christian traditions. Because they've got moxie. They risked everything and they even lost everything and they still came to Rome. In the early days of Christianity they would have been the happy martyrs singing hymns while being fed to the lions. And they strengthen my faith all the more.

How We are Called.

I sat in a room with the RCIA director. This was a sort of intake process.
"So what brings you here?" He asked with pen and note pad in hand.
"Well, I was baptized Catholic but that was it. We never went to church. I decided I would like to complete my formation." I responded.
"Ah, I see, I see. So what is it about the Catholic Church that attracts you? "
"Well, I was at this Catholic wedding..."
"Ah yes, yes, that's usually what happens." he chuckled. "It's either a wedding or funeral. So, what happened at this wedding that made you decide to become Catholic?"
"Well... it was during communion, the priest held up the bread and I suddenly was fixated and I felt like I wanted to cry."
"Wow!" He exclaimed, " Did you have any idea what that was?"
"No."
"Did you want to go up and receive communion?"
"I did but somehow I knew I shouldn't."
"Amazing, amazing. Do you think you could share this story with the others?"
"Uh... I don't know. I don't think I'd feel comfortable sharing this." I responded sheepishly
"Well, I hope you do decide to at some point. You didn't even know that was our Lord up there? That's amazing."

It is amazing and at the same time my story is not unique. I've heard similar accounts from other converts that somehow find themselves at a Catholic Mass. The music and the priest might not be anything special. Sometimes it can be downright dull. But suddenly, the priest holds up the host and they, like me were transfixed. They, like me, had no clue what the cardboard like wafer was. Unexpectedly, they had an encounter with Jesus Christ who beckoned them to come closer.

I like to hear stories of converts because often times it's like reliving my own conversion. I'm reminded that what happened at that wedding wasn't just me being caught up in the emotions of it being a wedding. I remember the priest was kind of a buzz kill anyway. He would kind of lecture the couple about how it wasn't always going to be easy and they were going to have to endure the trials. I thought to myself how the priest had the audacity to give them marriage advice when he's never been married himself. I wasn't particularly open to becoming Catholic at the time. I was pretty liberal and thought the Church was old fashion and not in tune with the "real" world. I thought if I was going to become Christian it would be episcopalian because they were so much looser and less uptight.
But somehow through my indignation toward the priest and the Catholic Church, Jesus still busted through my hard shell and said "Come."

Less than a year later I was a fully confirmed Catholic. The barriers I had up were broken down. The funny thing is for many of us converts, there usually are quite a lot of barriers. I don't know of anyone that just  breezed through it and immediately accepted everything the Church taught right away. For myself, I was going to find a church that thought like me and conformed to me. Instead, it was the other way around.
All because of that one moment when the priest held up that host and said.

"This is the Lamb of God. Happy are those who are called to His supper."

Suddenly, I found myself wanting to partake in His supper. He wanted me to partake in it too. I couldn't refuse no matter how hard it would be.