Navigating Faith

On June 4th, I will celebrate my two-month anniversary as a Catholic. That sentence still feels strange to write sometimes. Not because I doubt it—quite the opposite. It feels deeply right. But after years of theological study, ministry discernment, denominational wandering, heartbreak, prayer, stubbornness, and enough church committee meetings to qualify for getting out of purgatory early, becoming Catholic was not exactly a casual weekend decision. A lot of older Catholics do not quite understand why it took me so long. Some assume I simply “finally accepted the truth.” Others seem relieved, as though I crossed a finish line they had been politely waiting beside for years. Meanwhile, parts of my Protestant family still ask how I am liking “my church” with the careful tone people use when discussing an unexpected haircut or a questionable engagement. When I tell them, “Yes, I am happy. I love my church. I love my priest. I love the people. I love Jesus,” they usually smile politely an...

This week felt less like a gentle walk and more like God quietly rearranging the furniture of my heart. Not dramatic. Not loud. Just unmistakably clear. The first lesson was simple—and honestly, a little convicting: I’ve been giving social media more attention than I’ve been giving God. Not because I don’t care, but because it’s easy. It’s instant. It fills silence without asking anything of me. But prayer doesn’t work like that. Scripture doesn’t scroll. So I made a decision: no social media until I’ve spent time with God. Not as a punishment, but as a reordering. If I claim He is first, then my time should reflect that. It’s already changing the tone of my mornings. Less noise, more grounding. The second lesson came with a sting. Not everyone who loves you will be happy for you. That’s a hard truth to sit with, especially when it shows up in your own family. When I showed my aunt my Confirmation certificate, I expected shared joy. What I got instead was something… off. Not outright r...

It has been a little over a week since I made my profession of faith in the Catholic Church—since I received my First Communion and was confirmed. In the days that followed, one question kept coming my way: “Rachel, how was your first week of being a Catholic?” If I am honest, it was a nightmare. That may not be the answer people expect—the polished, glowing testimony wrapped in sentimentality. But it is the truth.  I have always known that anti-Catholicism exists. I have studied it, encountered it, even anticipated it. But there is a particular sting when it comes not from strangers, but from people you love. There is a special kind of grief when family members do not ask how you are doing spiritually—not necessarily because they do not care, but because they do not understand. There is a quiet ache when conversations that once felt natural now feel strained. When the people who helped shape your love for Scripture seem unable to see where that love has led you.  There is a...

Ever wonder if faith comes with a support team? Good news: it does. And it’s way cooler than you might think. The saints aren’t dusty old statues or characters stuck in the distant past—they’re real people (now in heaven) who lived real struggles, asked real questions, and now walk with us as companions, guides, and prayer buddies.  Saints: Not Just Old Heroes—But Soul Friends  When you hear “saints,” you might picture solemn portraits in stained glass. But saints were humans like you and me—made of breath and dreams and big questions. They fell in love with God in all sorts of ways: Some leapt boldly into mission (think St. Joan of Arc) Others whispered quiet devotion every single day (St. Kateri Tekakwitha) Some were scholars, kings, moms, artists, caregivers, martyrs… the list goes on! What makes a saint a saint isn’t perfection. It’s this: they kept turning to God—even when life was confusing, scary, or just plain exhausting.  Why We Talk to Saints You might wonder: W...

  Priest, me, my sponsor Today, I was   received into full communion with the Catholic Church. And if you’ve spent any time around church culture, you already know the responses: everything from the well-meaning (but deeply uncomfortable) “welcome home”… to the confused, “Why weren’t you received at the Easter Vigil?” So let’s talk about it. Not just what happened, but   why it happened the way it did. A Little About Me (Especially If You’re New Here) My name is Rai. I’m Southern Baptist by upbringing, a theologian by education, and I’ve served as a Methodist lay minister. My story isn’t one of spiritual emptiness—it’s one of a long, complicated, very real relationship with Christ. It’s also marked by church hurt. I’ve walked through pastoral failure, denominational fractures, and the kind of disillusionment that comes when the Church doesn’t live up to what it proclaims. And then, in December, my mom died. Grief like that changes everything. It strips away what’s perform...

A little over a month ago, I lost my mom. I won’t lie—losing her has been the hardest thing I’ve ever gone through. Some days, it feels like I’m moving through fog, trying not to collapse under the weight of it. Grief has a way of reshaping everything, including how we see our place in faith communities. Recently, my priest returned from a month-long vacation. Before he left, he asked me to tell him my confirmation date when he came back. I told him I would pray about it—and I did. I prayed really hard. But tonight, the first time I saw him since he returned, he asked again. I told him I didn’t know, because honestly, I don’t want to be confirmed. His insistence left me feeling frustrated, ashamed, and exhausted. The truth is, I was verbally attacked by members of OCIA leadership during dinner one evening. That moment has stayed with me and made me realize I don’t want to join the Catholic Church. I just want to sit in a pew and be present quietly, without anyone telling me where I bel...