ISO: One, Holy, Catholic and Apostolic Church

In the life of faith, there are moments that stand out — memories that, for reasons we may or may not understand, become permanent.

As someone who has known God’s love for as long as I can remember, such moments are plentiful, stretching back into early childhood. Love for God and for his Bride, the Church, was the lens through which I was taught to see the world and my place in it.

My parents were involved in ministry throughout much of my childhood and adolescence, so I saw both the good and the very ugly side of church life. My familial culture of perseverance despite ecclesial adversity made a lasting impression on my personality. As an adult, I got involved in lay ministry — small groups, hospitality, service, music, and library. I attended a Christian college, and I dabbled in seminary. I started writing for Christian publications.

The Church has been one of the great loves of my life. As someone who unintentionally found herself in celibate service to Christ (despite various boyfriends and dating site profiles), I have had fewer competing loves than most.

While I have always loved the Church, I have often struggled to know how to relate properly with her. American Christianity is messy. To borrow the phrase from Judges, everyone does what is right in his own eyes (17:6). We have more denominations than we know how to count. Real authority is non-existent.

It is within this life context that certain moments stand out.

There was the moment I first did a study on the concept of unity in the New Testament. I remember sitting at the family computer (I know I’m aging myself here), being shocked by the number of times unity is explicitly commanded in the New Testament. Paul is very firm on the topic in 1 Corinthians 1:10-13. I remember being touched particularly by Jesus’ high priestly prayer in John 17, asking the Father to make us all one. As I studied, I had an overwhelming sense of grief and shame that we Christians had so disobeyed Christ in this matter.

There was the moment, years later, I sat on my bed watching a video about Catholicism. It was an assignment for a seminary class. I don’t remember many specifics aside from an impression that the the way the Priest explained Catholicism was not what I had ever heard about it. Catholicism sounded much more sensible and reasoned than I thought it was, even while many aspects seemed foreign.

There were many quiet moments slipping into Mass by myself a few years later, battered by yet another Evangelical church meltdown. Of course, I couldn’t partake in the Eucharist as a Protestant, but I found profound comfort in the ubiquitous scripture reading and Christ-centeredness of the Mass.

While those moments and many others have always stayed with me, I have remained in the Protestant church. When I contemplated becoming Catholic, I was overwhelmed with leaving behind not only the familiarity of the Protestant landscape, but also friends and family who would not make the journey with me. Instead, I have tried to find a way to have intellectual and spiritual peace with the state of Evangelicalism.

Still, the more I have learned and studied over the years, the more I have found so much Protestant doctrine wanting. The only thing I could do is try to accept the cognitive dissonance. Sometimes I would think about the Catholic church, and I would pray that if God wanted me to take that path, he would show me. Most specifically, I didn’t want to do it alone.

And then, this spring, I had some new moments.

There was the moment my mom called my dad and I to see the white smoke going up from the Vatican on Newsmax. She was watching coverage of the papal conclave, and she wanted to share the exciting process with us. We quit our work on our new bathrooms to watch the announcement.

There was the moment we stayed home from church to watch the inaugural mass of Pope Leo XIV. It was touching to watch the uncountable crowds of so many ethnicities gathered to celebrate the Eucharist together. It was so catholic, in the truest sense of the word.

There was the moment my mom sent me a John Bergsma video she had watched with my dad. My dad has had his own experience attending and researching the Catholic church over the last several years, and he has been leaning towards Rome for some time. My mom had been touched by Bergsma’s testimony, and she wanted to know my opinion.

Since then, it’s been a summer of deep discussions and research. We’ve been reading the Church Fathers — primary source documents from the first century of Christianity. We’ve been enjoying YouTube videos featuring Scott Hahn, Jeff Morrow, Trent Horn, and so many others. We’ve been reading and watching Brant Pitre.

As I’ve tried to make sense of this process in my mind, I’ve decided to write about the experience. Writing always helps me clarify my thoughts. Over the last several years, I’ve done a lot less spiritual writing — in part, because I’ve been really busy. But partly, I feel like I’ve been a bit intellectually adrift. It has been such a gift to reengage my mind in my faith through this process. I’ve already learned so much that I didn’t know I was missing.

This morning, I went to Mass with my family. We slipped in a bit late. Despite the help of Google maps, we had driven past the church several miles before realizing our mistake. I picked up the missal, quickly finding our place so we could join into the corporate readings. It wasn’t long before the rhythms of the Mass came back to me.

When we recited the Nicene Creed, I spoke the familiar words with more solemnity than I ever had before. I’ve been reading Leo Donald Davis’ The First Seven Ecumenical Councils (325-787): Their History and Theology, which spends several chapters recounting the origins of the Nicene Creed. Before reading this book, I had only a very loose understanding of the history of the creed, let alone the councils themselves. Now, I realize how many early Christians dedicated their lives to developing the Nicene faith and protecting it from various heresies. Without heroes like St. Athanasius, St. Basil, and St. Gregory of Nyssa, we wouldn’t have the creed, nor the trinitarian faith we in Christendom — both Catholic and Protestant — have inherited. The creed is a gift from those who have gone before us — a gift not to be taken lightly.

One line, in particular, stood out this morning.

I believe in one, holy, catholic, and apostolic Church.

I have long confessed this truth, but the more I have learned in the last few months, the more I am coming to believe that only one Christian tradition embodies the Nicene — and historically Christian — definition of the Church.

I’m looking forward to learning more.