By Brian Cook
I was never in a cult. I just thought Catholicism was “the largest cult in the world”. I said those exact words to my dad one day when I was at his house preparing to go deer hunting. Can’t remember what book I was reading, but it was one of a thousand anti-Catholic books that presents Catholics as lost and in need of “the real gospel”. My assessment after reading that book was: Catholics worshipped Mary, committed some sort of a spiritual felony in their “Mass” (a stupid name for a Worship Service I thought), and were bound for Hell, unless underneath all their “works based salvation” they somehow magically knew that “salvation is through faith alone”.
My dad actually shushed me! He said, “don’t say that again, my wife grew up Catholic.”
My parents are divorced and I was surprised to hear that my step-mother was Catholic….or at least used to be. Neither of them attended church regularly, but I suddenly felt sheepish that I would have caused hurt, or even conflict, if I had said everything I was thinking. But my curiosity was stoked, and I kept that moment “hidden in my heart” (Luke 2:19) as it were. By God’s grace, I later looked up how many Catholics there are in the world and realized that my denomination was vastly outnumbered. That was a big surprise! I next looked up how many other Protestant denominations there are. Oh boy, that was big surprise number two! This made me feel even more sheepish.
Without really wanting to, or meaning to, I had become anti-Catholic simply based on the information I had been exposed to. I grew up Southern Baptist. Catholics weren’t “real Christians” because they did baptism all wrong, had added books to “their” Bible, and were stupid enough to believe that bread and wine actually become the body and blood of Christ in their Mass. Those poor folks, so deceived by the Devil, and by their church that we called the “Whore of Babylon” (Revelations 17). If only they took the Bible seriously, and studied it intently, they would understand.
They sure build beautiful churches though.
I was, and am, a choir boy at heart. Both my parents are naturally talented singers, and both could really impress. When my mom sang Sandi Patty songs or my dad sang “Beulah Land”, people would be moved to tears. As a kid I was (and still am) so proud of them both. They have walked through hell and are still standing…and still singing. So, I grew into a singer myself and scored a vocal scholarship to JSU. While in college I got an opportunity to go on a 16-day choir tour through several European countries. We got to see (and sing!) in several astonishing cathedrals. My favorite was St. Mark’s in Venice, Italy, but I also saw astounding churches in Germany, Austria, and France. I of course was young and stupid and girl crazy, and missed many important things, but the churches registered very deeply in my spirit. Catholic churches, centuries older than my Baptist church, older than my whole country, staggered my mind. My only context was the little Catholic church in my hometown called Our Lady of the Lake Catholic Church. I found that name silly and like something from King Arthur tales (to be fair there is a large lake in my hometown). It was cute, but nothing like these. These Catholic Cathedrals were neither “Baptist” or “American”, but they were thoroughly Christian.
I’ve always loved churches, and that love increases with age. My favorite thing about Catholic churches though, is that on any given day the doors are unlocked, the candles are lit, and the windows are gorgeous. It seems the sanctuary is almost always open and ready for prayer. Peaceful and pleasant, it is already prepared. It is very much alive. But on any day other than Sunday, my Protestant church’s sanctuary was dark, cold, and closed. And this particular point became a real catalyst for conversion.
The Lenten season is upon us beloved, there is so much to experience in our Catholic faith. For those hungry for more, come and see.
