Switching from Catholicism to Christianity was easy for me. Looking back, it almost felt inevitable.
For one, I was verbally and physically abused by the nuns in the Catholic school. The harshness of their discipline left me feeling more fear than love, and it was a constant source of pain and confusion.
Second, I never understood why I had to pray to so many different saints just to reach God. It never made sense to me. If God was the Almighty, why did I need an intermediary?
And third, there was the day in CCD class when everything changed.
I was about ten years old, sitting in a room filled with other children my age, listening as the instructor preached hellfire and brimstone. They told us, in no uncertain terms, that we were all going to hell. I didn’t know why. I was just a kid. But the way they spoke, the fear they instilled—it felt final, as if nothing we could do would ever be enough to save us.
On the wall, there was a mural of Jesus Christ.
I didn’t hear a voice.
But something deep inside me spoke.
“I am love.”
The message was undeniable. It didn’t come from the nuns, who were busy condemning us. It didn’t come from the fear in the room. It came from within.
And in that moment, I knew.
God was love.
Not punishment. Not wrath. Not condemnation. Just love.
It was a simple truth, but it changed everything for me. While others were trying to scare me into obedience, something greater—something real—was showing me the truth.
Another moment where I could have been lost forever—but I wasn’t.
Another miracle.
Comments
Post a Comment