Worshiping Idols . . . not

If you’ve ever been accused of being an idol worshiper (yes, I have), then perhaps you should click on this link.

One of those rare moments of pure clarity hit me while I was studying this issue some years back.  I looked at the Old Testament injunction against making images of God (specifically images of God – not other personages or creatures).  I believe this can be found in  Deuteronomy and it states: “Since you saw no form on the day that the Lord spoke to you at Horeb out of the midst of the fire, beware lest you act corruptly by making a graven image for yourselves, in the form of any figure”

Since you saw no form . . . I’ll never forget when it hit me – Christ says, “When you have seen me, you have seen the Father.” He is called the Godhead in bodily form.  Christ himself overturned this injunction by His Incarnation.  It hit me like a ton of bricks and I’ve never been bothered by the feeling I’m worshiping an idol. Never.  It seems to me that those who think that icons or religious art somehow insult God perhaps haven’t meditated on the overwhelming topsyturviness of the Incarnation.

Michelle Malkin does it again

Perhaps I was wrong about Michelle Malkin. In my last post I accused her of being “Catholic-when-convenient”. However, she has replied to those of us (I’m not presuming she read my criticism – there were many others) who wrote about her lack of charity and reading comprehension. In her “No, I’m not Bill Maher” post, Malkin writes,

I was raised Catholic. I benefited immensely from my Catholic high school education. I have deep respect for many Catholic leaders and intellectual leading lights. I continue to be inspired by Catholic pro-life activists.

This reads, to me, like “I used to be Catholic . . . ” If this is the case, then my criticism of her is entirely misdirected. If true, it only makes the situation sadder (infinitely). Of course, the blog she linked to (which she accused of calling her anti-Catholic) has responded. I urge you to read the update found here.

Of course the combox inanities continue. Malkin’s commentators (many of whom I’m sure show up at HotAir as well) do not disappoint.

I also encourage you, the reader, to read The Anchoress’ response as well.

Another go at “Satisfaction”

As I’m scheduled to teach the RCIA session on the Sacraments of Healing, I am intrigued by this topic. The recent dust up over Fr. Kimel’s remarks (see below) has focused my attention to this topic even more. I hope I can explain adequately the whispy thoughts in my mind concerning this topic.

The truly penitent accepts the punishments due his sin. This acceptance is an actual entering into the satisfaction won by Christ – and is His alone. It is an act of freedom, inspired by grace.

When one sins mortally, he literally breaks communion with God and His church. And there are consequences to this act of freely choosing a moral evil. Firstly are those eternal consequences – consequences that, if not addressed appropriately, will lead to the ultimate and final act of freedom: separation from God.

Secondly are those temporal consequences – loss of moral surety, a darkening of one’s soul – perhaps immediate losses of friendships and health, and other consequences like the hardening of one’s heart. Outside of a penitent heart, these temporal punishments can only be seen as paths of light, hoping to show the sinner the way to repentance.

The penitent (he who has come to sorrow over sin and who has confessed with his mouth), however, embraces these consequences of sin and joins himself to the sufferings of Christ. In this way he is truly purged and made fruitful. For what is purged from an unfruitful branch but those parts of it which are wasteful and of no use. But ‘in Christ’, joined to the Branch in repentance (in acquiescence), we are sanctified. This is satisfaction, and it cannot be ours, but is His alone! There cannot be forgiveness (for what is forgiveness, but that rejoining the branch) without satisfaction.

A truly penitent man accepts the consequences of his sin. To do otherwise is to mock justice. A man who gives himself to lust must live with those who love him doubting his fidelity. A man who invites ‘the world’ into his home, must live with seeing his children lost to the world’s seductions. But when the sinner turns to Christ in repentance, there is no guarantee that the wife so wronged for so long will suddenly abandon her doubt, or that the children so lost to the world will suddenly return. These too are temporal punishments, and in joining themselves to Christ even in the midst of suffering the consequences of their sin, the truly penitent can experience true healing.

Again, the one who lusts may live a lifetime in pitched battle with his accumulated habits, but the penitent, in seeking forgiveness and healing, enters into the purging of the husbandman willingly.

The penances issued by the priest in the confessional should be one more instance where man joins himself to Christ. “I have sinned!” Yes, now, “You are absolved! Now, do this as an act of joining with the satisfaction of Christ.” For sin is an act of freedom, of choice, and so must be penance. “Weep! Mourn! Let your laughter be turned to weeping!” For in our freedom, we have entered the sty and in our freedom we must say, “Yes!” to the care of the husbandman. A branch rejoined does not reject the shear.

Abide in Him! “Search me, O God, and see if there be any wickedness in me! In penances, offered and willingly accepted, let me unite myself to your satisfaction, O Christ! Against you, and you alone have I sinned! Help me to bear fruit that befits repentance!”

There is a sense in which the Council of Trent treats the action of satisfaction (purging through penances and in unifying ourselves to Christ) as the temporal punishments. There is another sense in which Trent treats the consequences of our sins themselves as the temporal punishments. Like so many things in Catholic theology, it is not a case of contradiction. But it is a case where clarity is needed, and that is why the recent developments are so important.

What is sin?

I think it would be helpful to try to put flesh upon the Catholic theological ideas so often associated with the ideas behind sin and justification. At least helpful to me.

It is my understanding that man was endowed by God with certain supernatural gifts.  This is a term that isn’t exactly used often in the homilies a Catholic might hear on any given day of the week.  I think a better, and often used, understanding of these supernatural gifts  is one of relationship with God.  This relationship must not be understood in terms of simply knowing God.  For there is no such thing.  Knowing God, and being known by Him entails a change in the knower.  One cannot enter a river and remain dry. Nor can one “see Him as He is” and be unchanged.  We were made for God, to “walk with him in the garden.”

The sin of our ancestors was a breaking of relationship, and therefore, in the language of theologians, a loss of supernatural gifts.  Well, they’re too many to list, or at least the various classifications of them would drag this simple blog post into a bog.  The one that stuck out to me was the sonship of God.  This, of course, fits right in with what I’ve been saying about relationship.  Our natural selves could never hope to claim the sonship of God.  However, God’s grace (gift) to us raises us up to this supernatural existence.  I better stop, or I’m going to type myself into a religious frenzy.  It truly is a marvelous and mind-boggling thing to contemplate.

So, is sin simply the stepping away from this river of God’s supernatural gifts? A toweling off, back to our natural state?  That assumes, of course, that our natural state is sinful.  It isn’t, of course.  God created all thing good, and nothing is good that is sinful.  If I understand things rightly, man, even in his natural state – apart from the supernatural gifts which raise him to a grace-filled state – is ordered toward God.  We are gifted with conscience, reason, and freedom.

The sin of our ancestors was not merely a willful stepping away from the supernatural relationship with God, it was a stepping into spiritual  quicksand.  Sin is defined as a moral evil.  Evil is defined as a privation of form.  In other words, my human nature is damaged due to the ancestry of sin.  Adam and Eve didn’t merely shed themselves of the supernatural graces . . . they emptied trapped themselves (and us) in a pigpen of disordered nature.

Fr. Thomas Hopko, an Orthodox priest, uses the story of the Prodigal Son to teach about the ancestral sin – and its effects on all of us today.  Adam and Eve, through an act of the freedom God gave them, lost true freedom.  They moved to the pig pen of Jesus’ parable.  Not only did they stay, but their whole progeny stayed.  For thousands of years, they knew mostly nothing of the world outside the pig pen. Perhaps a glimpse or two of a different world, but it wasn’t until God himself entered the pig pen to show us a better way that we could truly leave that former life.

I like that analogy.  However, like all analogies, it fails in some sense.  Obviously there were righteous dead before Christ was incarnate.  These were men and women who left the pig pen, so to speak.  Through God’s gradual revelation of Himself, some were able to escape, in a certain sense, that life of slavery.  Remember the rock from which you were hewn.  God, through Grace, prepared people to experience forgiveness and covenantal relationship with Him.  This can’t be denied – simply look at the writings of the Old Testatment.

So, why Jesus?  Why the cross? Though these righteous in the Old Covenant escaped the miry clay of the pig pen, they still had not reentered the Father’s house.  This was the act of the atonement, an act that only Jesus could accomplish.  Man would once again be able to enter the sonship which accompanies the supernatural gifts of God.  The prodigal didn’t show up unannounced to the Father’s house, the Father ran to greet him and usher him in as if he had never left.  This ‘running to greet’ is the act of the Incarnation.  Without the cross, without the atonement, we could never ’see Him as He is.’

All are welcome to help me in my understanding.

‘Satisfaction’ and ‘Punishment’

My friend, UpstateLutheran (as much friend as someone I’ve never really met and with whom I constantly bicker over theological/apologetical issues can be), has responded to a post I made at TheologyWeb concerning an article over at The Anastasis Dialogue, which was a quote of a post made by Fr. Al Kimel over at Beggars All . . . got that?

Now, I don’t necessarily agree with Fr. Al Kimel’s position, especially in light of some unclear language he uses. Until I’m comfortable with what he’s exactly saying, I can’t agree or disagree. One such example is his use of the term “existential consequences.” I’m not a philosopher or theologian, so without some clarification on Fr. Kimel’s part, I can only guess at what he means, and guessing isn’t good enough.

I did post the article over at TheologyWeb, but I did it merely for discussion sake. A discussion that UpstateLutheran has taken up in this post on his blog.

Now, before I begin addressing UpstateLutheran’s post directly, I’ll simply link to a wonderful article by Mark Shea on Indulgences and use some of his insights to help clarify terms.

Shea writes, ” Catholic theology has an incorrigible knack for obscuring marvelous insights in confusing terminology.” He couldn’t be more right. Shea goes on to say, “In reality, temporal punishment is just Catholicese for what Protestants call chastisement.”

Firstly, is he correct? In the section on indulgences, the Catechism states, “While patiently bearing sufferings and trials of all kinds . . . the Christian must strive to accept this temporal punishment of sin as a grace.” The Bible often speaks of chastisement as God’s act of correcting what is ‘not correct’. For lack of more imagination, I would say God’s chastisement is the act of straightening what is crooked. Or, as Christ puts it in John 15:2, the unfruitful branches, though abiding in Him, will be purged so that they may be fruitful.

Shea continues, “In short, temporal punishment is part of how God redeems our sinful actions and turns their consequences into occasions of sanctity rather than damnation.” That is enough from Mr. Shea, as the remainder of his article deals more specifically with indulgences.

Now, on to our friend’s post:

In any case, what is being developed is what “temporal punishments” we have to make “satisfaction” for.

I do not believe that this is the gist of what Fr. Kimel was trying to say or indeed said. In the comment section at Beggars All, Fr. Kimel first quotes from Pope Benedict XVI (I think from a book when he was Cardinal Ratzinger):

Purgatory is not, as Tertullian thought, some kind of supra-worldly concentration camp where man is forced to undergo punishment in a more or less arbitrary fashion. Rather it is the inward necessary process of transformation in which a person becomes capable of Christ, capable of God, and thus capable of unity with the whole communion of saints.

So, here we have Fr. Kimel’s main point: Purgatory, or the suffering of ‘temporal punishments’ (whatever that may be – to be explored later) is the process by which we are transformed into that ’straightness’ God desires for each of us. I hope Fr. Kimel will forgive me if I butchered his actual sentiment.

After all, sin is (in its Eastern understanding especially), the ‘missing of the mark’. The incorrectness or unfruitfulness that necessitates purging by the Husbandman. Fr. Kimel states:

. . . . the key to understanding the Catholic teaching on “temporal punishments” is to realize that these punishments are not external acts of divine vengeance but are the existential consequences of our sins to ourselves and to others. Since God has willed that we suffer these consequences, they are and must be an expression of divine justice.

UpstateLutheran’s contention that ” what ‘temporal punishments’ we have to make ’satisfaction’ for” is in question is not exactly accurate. Fr. Kimel definitely believes that we have to ‘make satisfaction’, etc., as he clearly states:

Only when the Catholic doctrine of the atonement is understood can we begin to address the meaning of purgatorial purification as “punishment” for which “satisfaction” must be made. One thing is very clear: these two words (“punishment” and “satisfaction”) are being used analogically in this context. The words came into the tradition through the ancient penitential system and its assignment of penances. They are an attempt to explain the ancient intuition of the Church that post-mortem purification is necessary for most of the redeemed–hence the moral and spiritual imperative to pray for the faithful departed.

In other words, the question isn’t what temporal punishments we have to make satisfaction for – it’s what is temporal punishment? Fr. Kimel states that temporal punishment can be understood as “existential consequences of our sins,” and I believe that this is the phrase that throws UpstateLuthern (and me, to some degree) off Fr. Kimel’s message.

I think that Fr. Kimel’s meaning of “existential consequences” should be taken to be only those natural consequences arising from our sins. In other words, those things that happen as a result of our sins. Fr. Kimel states that these consequences “are not external acts of divine vengeance.” And here, I think is the key dispute. Fr. Kimel, of course, is exactly right and he’s following the Catechism in stating that the temporal punishments should not be understood as ‘divine vengeance’. But UpstateLutheran states:

Unfortunately, this seems to contradict Trent Session 14, section 8

So, what does Trent say about this issue? Before I get there, let me dwell a bit on what Fr. Kimel states so plainly: the words satisfaction and punishment are deeply rooted in the ancient penitential practices of the Church. This practice is well attested in Church history and the Fathers of the Church, and I won’t linger on it at this point – though I’m more than willing to come back to the topic later. I wanted to reiterate Fr. Kimel’s point in order to put Trent in perspective. The act of penance after confession of sin was and is considered a healing remedy. It is also directly related, in the mind of the Church, to the power of the Church to bind and loose sins. And, taken as a whole, the penitential system should be seen as one more way God chastises those whom he loves.

Trent states:

And it beseems the divine clemency, that sins be not in such wise pardoned us without any satisfaction, as that, taking occasion therefrom, thinking sins less grievous, we, offering as it were an insult and an outrage to the Holy Ghost, should fall into more grievous sins, treasuring up wrath against the Jay of wrath. For, doubtless, these satisfactory punishments {penances} greatly recall from sin, and check as it were with a bridle, and make penitents more cautious and watchful for the future; they are also remedies for the remains of sin, and, by acts of the opposite virtues, they remove the habits acquired by evil living.

We see in this passage the understanding of ‘punishments’ being the actual penances given to those who have sinned after baptism. Notice their purpose: to make straight the crooked, to correct the uncorrected. This is a perfect example of the chastising of God’s beloved. Now UpstateLuthern bolded the first portion of that passage. If I had my druthers, I’d emphasize the last portion. I’ll just leave it be for now.

But Upstate says:

Now, at first I thought “Hey!, they are saying that God forgives the sin and the punishment! Well, that is not so bad.” But then I re-read the passage and realized it says just the opposite, it does not say God forgives our sins and our punishment, it says that unless we make satisfaction, i.e. are punished, our sins are not forgiven.

In this particular instance yes. It is the clear teaching of the Church, both in Trent and in the new Catechism, that ’satisfaction’ (penance) must accompany the penitent’s confession. In fact, the Catechism quotes from Trent quite liberally in the paragraphs concerning satisfaction and temporal punishment. The emphasis, in the above quote, should not be the necessity of satisfaction, but of the purpose of satisfaction – to purge us, God’s branches.

UpstateLuthern continues:

Not only that, it seems to me that, contrary to Fr. Kimel’s claims about the “development” of this doctrine, the council clearly calls the “effects” punishments. i.e. they are not “accidents of sin” as it were, but punishments inflicted by God, or ourselves.

I’m not sure what UL’s point is, for it is obvious that Fr. Kimel never called temporal punishments “accidents of sin”. He plainly stated that use of the word ‘punishment’ is derived from the penitential practices of the Church and that the acts of satisfaction (penances) are tools of the Church used to conform us to the image of Christ. Neither the Catechism, nor any writing cited by Fr. Kimel called the temporal punishments due to sin “accidents of sin”. They are, as Fr. Kimel states plainly, consequences brought about by our own sin. The Council of Trent goes on to say,

But not therefore did they imagine that the sacrament of Penance is a tribunal of wrath or of punishments; even as no Catholic ever thought, by this kind of satisfactions on our parts, the efficacy of the merit and of the satisfaction of our Lord Jesus Christ is either obscured, or in any way lessened . . . .

In other words, this ‘punishment’ should be understood in exactly the way that Fr. Kimel (and the Catechism) explicitly states: not external acts of divine vengeance. So how should it be understood? Well, remember that the Bible teaches that the Husbandman purges the branches in Christ. Also, that God chastises those whom he loves. Corrects those who need correction. So, if we, as Mark Shea advocates, understand ‘temporal punishment’ as the purging, correcting, chastising of God’s people – I think we are closer to the truth of what both Trent and Fr. Kimel are getting at.

One interesting passage of Scripture which illustrates this concept in a unique way is II Timoth 2:19-21:

But God’s firm foundation stands, bearing this seal: The Lord knows those who are his, and, Let everyone who names the name of the Lord depart from iniquity. Now in a great house there are not only vessels of gold and silver but also of wood and clay, some for honorable use, some for dishonorable. Therefore, if anyone cleanses himself from what is dishonorable, he will be a vessel for honorable use, set apart as holy, useful to the master of the house, ready for every good work.

This is from the ESV, and I love the translation, but the King James Version is even more explicit: If a man therefore purge himself. This penitential action by the believer, this act of ‘purging’ is encouraged to be performed by the believer. We can see here the Biblical and Catholic understanding of penitence – this undertaking of identifying ourselves with the sufferings of Christ. As Trent states so plainly:

But neither is this satisfaction, which we discharge for our sins, so our own, as not to be through Jesus Christ. For we who can do nothing of ourselves, as of ourselves, can do all things, He cooperating, who strengthens us.

UL spends the remainder of his post aghast that the Catholic “can have no confidence our sins are forgiven unless and until we have made enough “satisfaction” for our sins.” Of course, he neglects the most important part of the whole of Trent’s treatment of satisfaction, a part which is prominently quoted in the Catechism – that when we enter the very act of penitence, we unite ourselves with His suffering, His supreme satisfaction. That any acts of penance are done through his efficacy won on the Cross. Any purging, any correcting, any straightening is done because we have entered the realm of surrender to Him, He who strengthens us. I’m reminded of Hebrews 12. We are not told to just look unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith; but that we should throw off the weights that weigh us down, and sin which ‘clings so closely’. This is the act of ’satisfaction’ of ‘penance’ of ‘conformity to Christ.’

And so, we come to the conclusion and purpose of Fr. Kimel’s comments: Purgatory is a post-mortem continuation of this ancient and truly apostolic belief.

Attempting to read the Bible

Over the past few days, I’ve begun to another attempt to read the Bible in its entirety.  I’ve done it twice before, but it has been a long time.  Plus, I’ve become Catholic since then, so I have more books to read!

I’m working through the Book of Genesis, and truly it is enlightening to read through somewhat ‘Catholic’ eyes.  It is hard to explain, but it is like every event, every word is pointing to something in the New Covenant.  I hope I am not reading in an overly ’spiritual’ manner.

Been a while

I’m not sure what to write any longer. So, I’ll simply write about my spiritual life – since the original purpose was to write about my journey to the Catholic Church.  I’m “in” so to speak, but the ‘becoming hinged’ part is far from over.  I’m still fighting myself, and needing to truly ‘buckle down’ in my prayer life.

I have began praying the Rosary more often, however, and I’ve found that the more I pray it, the more I understand its relevance to Catholic spirituality.  When I was an Orthodox catechumen, I began praying the “Jesus Prayer”, and the Rosary holds a similar place in Western Christianity (although the Jesus Prayer is prayed in the West, and the Rosary in the East).

A verse from the Bible has been running through my head for the past day or two, “Friendship with the world is enmity with God.” I need to understand this and live it.

RCIA

I’ve been asked to be on the RCIA team for the upcoming months.  I’m not sure what to do.  In some ways I’m honored, excited, and raring to go.  In other ways, I’m reticent, scared, and outright wanting to run away.

My Conversion Story

I decided to collect the total story into one post.

____________

I was raised in the Oneness Pentecostal movement until I was twelve years old. My mother was more devout, and my dad had stopped attending church by the time I was around six or seven. The Oneness Pentecostals are a very, very strict sect of the Pentecostal churches. I remember when we had no television in the house, we couldn’t wear short-sleeved shirts, no make-up for the women, long hair for the women, and a myriad of other rules applicable to every facet of life. I was baptized in “Jesus’ name,” for the Oneness churches do not believe in the Trinity. I remember looking down on the poor Trinitarians. So deluded. So lost.

I spoke in tongues. I’ll never forget the night this happened. I so wanted it. Without it I was lost. With it I had power. A crowd of people, hands all over me, shouts of encouragement and pleading to God. And then these sounds came from me. Nothing like a language I’d ever heard. But those around me broke out in joyous celebration. I had been filled. I was around nine. My memory is hazy on a lot of things, but I do know that I struggled with doubt about what had happened. I was always questioning, but never disrespectfully. I truly wanted to know God and have all that He had for me.

When I was six, we got new neighbors. An Assembly of God pastor and his family moved next door. A kid my age! A kid my brother’s age! We were in heaven. But they were Trinitarians. I remember those days of adolescent theological discussions. “You believe in three Gods!” I would say. When I was around twelve, and the neighbor and I best friends, my mother had a falling out with the leadership at the Oneness church. We went to visit the Assembly of God church. It was a turning point.

I had never experienced the love of God. The Oneness church was all about ‘the letter’. Here was ‘the spirit’. We immediately fell in love with the people. Unfortunately this earned us the pity of our former church’s membership. Many never spoke to us again. Yet we had found ‘home’, and in many ways that church is still my home. I met my wife there, we were married there. I still attend with my wife on occasion.

I embraced the Trinitarian doctrine, as best as a twelve-year old can. I was re-baptized in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. I ‘truly’ was baptized in the Holy Ghost and ‘truly’ spoke in tongues – though, in truth, there was little difference in experience. The sounds were gibberish, and bore little resemblance to ‘language’ in my opinion. Over the next few years, I would struggle, as all teenagers do, with lukewarm religion – followed by periods of revival. These ‘high’ periods usually coincided with the annual Church youth camp. Oh, those were so fun. Free from the influences of the ‘the world’, hundreds of kids would gather to seek after God. If we found a girlfriend during the week, that was an added bonus.

When I was fifteen, it was at one of these camps that I entered my most fervent period. I ‘felt the call to preach’, though I kept it to myself. I was scared. When I got home, I would spend long periods of time praying in my closet – literally. I was taking God’s word seriously. I read the whole Bible through for the first time. I would wander the woods surrounding my house, praying, crying out to God, and preaching to the trees. Honestly. It was during this time that I sought God for a sign that my baptism in the Holy Ghost was not simply me producing gibberish. I wanted what came out of my lips to sound like something ‘real’. While in the woods one day, I found my new prayer language.

I began to have very intense, almost vision-like experiences. I even thought that one such vision came true. Our youth meetings had become bone dry. In prayer one day I ’saw’ the Spirit take control of the youth meeting. A message in tongues was given out. People were changed. It wasn’t long afterward that something very similar happened. I felt like God was using me. A few weeks after the fulfillment of my ‘vision’, I too gave a message out in tongues in our youth meeting. It was interpreted. I can’t even remember the ‘message’.

This period of intensity lasted for quite some time. But the fervor faded eventually. And I found myself struggling with myself. I couldn’t understand the ups and downs. I didn’t comprehend how I could be so duplicitous. So, I entered into more of the same. Hot. Then cold. Up. Then down. I felt like I was on a rollercoaster. I either wanted off or I wanted it to level out. By the time I graduated high school, I was living a double life. The good church kid at church, the know-it-all blossoming delinquent outside its walls.

When I started college, God was on the periphery. However, once again, youth camp brought me to a ‘closer walk’. I resolved this time to announce to everyone that I was ‘called to preach.’ So, I did. That was the way it was in the churches I grew up in. My pastor offered to let me preach on a Wednesday night. I took my text from Isaiah. I’ll never forget how I took an hour’s worth of material, and in my nervousness, spewed it out in fifteen minutes. But it was over. And I had ‘done well’. More opportunities arose. So, I started helping out in Sunday School. In college I joined the BSU (the token Pentecostal), and soon was the director of evangelism on the Executive Council. I was actually preaching in more Baptist churches than Pentecostal.

It was in the BSU that I first experienced theological opposition to my Pentecostal belief system. Several of us would sit around and discuss any number of topics. But the ‘pet topic’ was, of course, the nature of salvation. Most of my Baptist friends believed in ‘Once Saved Always Saved,’ and the BSU chaplain was a staunch Calvinist. Many times I would walk away from these conversations with my faith deeply rocked. I began to spend more and more time studying my faith. However, at the same time, I began to slide ever closer to giving into certain sins that I had been battling. This combination led to some very sincere questions about my faith. I began to go to the computer lab and get on the Internet, reading articles from points of view that I had never encountered. It was like I was stepping onto a new planet.

I began reading polemic works against Christianity. Thomas Paine’s Age of Reason proved to be the key to unlocking all kinds of truly unoriginal thoughts, but ones that were new to me. During this time I was still living at home, still dating the same girl, still chaffing under the pressure of a faith with which I was once again struggling. It came to a head one night at church. I was in serious conflict. My pastor’s wife could ’sense’ it, I suppose. She came and urged me to come to the front for prayer. I did not want to disappoint, so I went. Prayers went up to heaven for me, and yet I felt nothing. I didn’t want to feel anything.

I walked away that night, convinced that all that I had experienced in my life concerning religion was false. It wasn’t long afterward that my girlfriend and I broke up over these issues. I moved out of my parents’ home and began to forge a life of my own. For a while everything was a new discovery. For the last years of college, I declared myself an atheist and rejected the whole idea of religion. I was pretty vocal about it, and found myself speaking in front of Intro to Religion classes – as an example of ‘an atheist’. I thought this new ‘freedom’ was . . . well, liberating. Yet, soon I began to dabble in drugs and alcohol, and I began battling episodes of depression. It wasn’t long before I realized that life away from God was not very satisfying. I was too proud, however, to make my way back.

After graduating college, I planned to attend law school. I had a dorm lined up, loans ready to go, and I was working for a local lawyer – getting my feet wet in the world of ‘law’. I had moved back home with my parents for the summer, before heading off to law school. It was during this time that I began to be around some of my former friends from church. The peace in their lives was very convincing. My former youth pastor (and a very close friend) told me that the youth camp I had attended while younger was happening in a couple of weeks. He invited me down. I shrugged it off and went about my way. However, I was flipping channels one day and came upon TBN, and saw Deion Sanders giving his testimony. Now, I’ve never been a fan of TBN, but his testimony struck me for some reason. I began weeping. It was Thursday afternoon, and I just ‘knew’ that I had to get to Youth Camp. That the depression, the pain, the emptiness would go away if I could just get there.

I hopped in my truck. With no air conditioning, a pack of cigarettes, and emotions running high, I drove the two hours to the Camp. I’ll never forget walking into the tabernacle that night. Everyone seemed to remember me. Everyone wanted to welcome me. The love I felt was amazing. I remember seeing my former girlfriend there. She was perfect. Everything was perfect. This would be it. The end of my doubts, my confusion. I would make a commitment here. Now. I sat among some old friends and the night service began. The choir sang a song titled, “Salt Pillar,” about the wife of Job, about the consequences of turning away from God, and the rewards awaiting those who kept on the journey. I ran to the altar. I only remember pouring my heart out to God, and truly feeling that He had poured His out to me.

After the service at the youth camp, I decided to stay the rest of the week. I immediately reconnected with my former girlfriend. In many ways it felt as if I had never left. I knew that things would have to change in my life, so on my return to the ‘real world’ I called my boss, the lawyer, and announced I couldn’t come back to work. I called the university law school and withdrew. I just knew that law school wasn’t in the ‘will of God’.

My friend, my former youth pastor, was working in IT and convinced his boss to give me a shot. It worked out, and I had my first post-college job. It wasn’t long until I asked my new-old-girlfriend to marry me. I had no doubts that she was the one. Some months into the marriage I convinced myself that being in the ministry was the only way to truly be in the will of God. I confided this to my pastor. Nothing happened at first, but soon I got a strange phone call from North Carolina. My friend, the youth pastor, had moved on to be an assistant pastor in Georgia. He had received a call from a pastor looking for a school teacher/youth pastor. He recommended me (I had my license to teach). The pastor called, and I immediately said we’d drive up, meet everyone, and consider. Ten hours away from home, we arrived to find what seemed to be a vibrant church and school. This was where God wanted us to be.

When we came back home and announced our decision to move, my parents took the news hard. My mom was very distraught and told us that the time frame would never work out. We had less than two weeks to sell everything we had, move and start classes. I told her that if it all worked out it had to be the will of God. Everything worked out. We made the first day of classes in a new city, a new state, and completely cut off from the lifelines we had grown accustomed to.

We stayed in Charlotte for almost two years. The church was very different than the Assembly of God church we knew so well. There was more focus on externals – how one dressed, for example. But we quickly found ourselves adjusting, making friends and settling in. The school, however, came to be somewhat of a proving ground. The students weren’t all from the church’s families. There were constant questions about religion and about the church’s stand on many issues. I tried to focus on the subjects I was teaching, but the questions began to grate at me.

One day the assistant pastor (the pastor’s son) asked me to read something called the Church Fathers to hunt for evidence that the early church preached a standard of holiness similar to our own. The Church Fathers? I was vaguely aware of them, but I had never read them. My world was about to change. I dutifully researched (being a history major had equipped me well) and I did find several passages that buttressed our ideas, but man oh man was I surprised at the depth found in the Church Fathers. Hierarchy, Eucharist, etc. It was simply confusing. So I walked away, but I walked away rocked.

I began to have those gnawing doubts again – that all I believed was resting on a flimsy foundation. An evangelist who specialized in campus preaching came to visit our church – a great guy, really, but his tactics were quite off-putting. I took my class to see him in action one day at the UNC-Charlotte campus. I even preached a little myself. College students who were peppering me with very hard questions surrounded me. I spouted out the answers I thought I knew, but deep within I remember thinking, “Do I even believe what I’m saying?”

I tried my best to shake the familiar specter of doubt. It was like I was a teenager once again – go down to the altar, pray, repent, weep before God, ask Him to take away these questions, to help me shake the Devil off my back . . . . Days of exhilaration where I would think things were going to work – then something would happen to make me question all over again. I should be honest here and say that I was wrestling with issues that I had had since childhood. I would walk, apprehensively, in what felt like ‘victory’ – only to fall all over myself in moments of insanity. Having been raised ‘holiness’, being unable to ‘keep the faith’ was devastating.

This inability for stability has been a theme in my life. It was no different during this period. I had thought that by ‘answering the call’ – by being ‘in the will of God’ – it would somehow be the magic ticket to spiritual freedom. It wasn’t. Many nights I would finish preaching, only to find myself in the deepest depths of despair I’d ever known. Surely this was simply the Devil attacking a faithful Christian . . . right? Surely, if I prayed more, if I sought God more – it would all be fixed. I would be fixed.

But I wasn’t fixed. And I was once again living a lie. I had serious doubts about my faith; I could no longer toe the line as a youth pastor and teacher. So, I tendered my resignation. We had just had our first child, my wife was unable to work due to complications – so I used money as an excuse. We loaded all we had into another U-haul and we moved to Georgia, where I had landed a job in the IT department of a small college. The new home was close to a church that had a close relationship with our home church; so many of the faces were familiar. They were so happy to see us in Georgia! They were excited to have another ‘minister’ and they had plans to put me to work. Me? I just wanted to be left alone. I didn’t want to teach, I didn’t want to lead, I didn’t even want to sing in the choir (which has always been one of the most enjoyable aspects of church for me). But I have this ridiculous fear of disappointing others. So . . . invariably I did do all of those things. Over the course of three years in Georgia, it was simply more of the same. Up, down, etc. etc.

Going into our third year, I had entered a phase where I was simply going to give up. I told my wife of my doubts, laying out my positions, but never really getting to the heart of why. She was the rock she is, and she simply took it all in and I’m sure began to intercede to God on my behalf. It was around this time that I happened upon a little website called TheologyWeb. It was a turning point in my life – truly. I was able to challenge myself, my doubts, my questions – to really begin to see that what I had considered my faith was shallow. I was out of my depth, and I resolved to change that. I began to read more and more, trying to self-educate myself into the fray. I soon saw that I truly was empty without God, and I could never resolve to live as if God didn’t exist. So, I recommitted myself to Him – but reservedly. I knew that I shouldn’t compartmentalize myself – I had to be honest with God, and honestly seek ‘the truth’.

A few months spent searching led me to a stronger faith than I had ever held. But many questions remained. I became interested in eschatology, and spent some time trying to figure out what I could believe on the subject. This led me (once again) to read more of the early church fathers. While reading the church fathers, my interest in other subjects was soon piqued – especially the Lord’s Supper. The one passage that really caught my eye was from Justin Martyr: “For not as common bread and common drink do we receive these; but in like manner as Jesus Christ our Saviour, having been made flesh by the Word of God, had both flesh and blood for our salvation, so likewise have we been taught that the food which is blessed by the prayer of His word, and from which our blood and flesh by transmutation are nourished, is the flesh and blood of that Jesus who was made flesh.” I began to reflect on what *I* had been taught about the Eucharist, about the early church. It didn’t add up. The popular myths about the church from the Pentecostal perspective was that it soon corrupted, was partially restored by men such as Martin Luther, and finally re-emerged in the early 20th century with the Pentecostal movements of men like Parham, et. al.

I began to develop a different sense of church history, although it was far from possessing depth. Around this time I began to participate in the Pal Talk discussions of TheologyWeb. The topics I was newly interested in came up, but rarely. So I went looking for those who would discuss them. I visited the Catholic room on Pal Talk – they were friendly, gracious, but too . . . Catholic. I then wondered into an Orthodox room. Orthodox? Huh? I was blown away. The music, the theology – it was all so new. Since I had resolved myself to an amillennialist position eschatologically, it was comforting to see that one of the oldest bodies of believers in existence agreed with me. This allowed me to be a bit more accessible to the teachings of the Orthodox Church. I began to read everything I could get my hands on. Websites, books, pamphlets, whatever – I was becoming convinced that this was Truth. One book in particular ’sealed the deal’ for me – and it wasn’t even written by an Orthodox Christian. Evangelical is Not Enough, by Thomas Howard, was the proverbial nail in the coffin for the objections I had to sacramental Christianity.

Now, how was I, in a small town in Georgia, going to find a way into the Orthodox Church? There were no churches within a reasonable driving distance, and I hadn’t exactly shared my new found interest with my wife as of yet – so I sat on it for a while. I continued the study, the interaction over the web, and began to try to live as “Orthodox” a faith as I could. A few months into all of this, I received a job opportunity that would bring me home to Mississippi. I found a parish that would be almost two hours away from our new/old home, but I was determined to attend. I corresponded with the priest and with a parishioner I had met online. Everything seemed to be fitting into to place. I talked to my wife about Orthodoxy, however, and I hit a wall. I had had hopes of her ’seeing the truth’, but she wasn’t with me on this one. Not by a long shot. So, after the move, I waited a few months – hoping that she’d become interested. Nothing. Finally, I went on my own. It was like nothing I had ever seen. Not remotely. Yet, it spoke deeply to me. I wanted more.

I started attending the Orthodox Church more frequently. It was a great time of discovery. It wasn’t long until I made the decision to become a catechumen. My priest asked me if I might wait until my wife was ready to convert. I considered the possibility remote, so he agreed to allow me to enter the catechumenate. This was late 2004.

I looked forward to becoming an Orthodox Christian, and my efforts to lead an “orthodox” life were increased. It was not easy, as I felt that my wife was very uncomfortable with me doing such things as praying before an icon. My efforts to accommodate weren’t reciprocated, and soon the accommodating began to feel a lot like sneaking around. I began to build up a wall of resentment toward my wife, which truly hampered not only my move into Orthodoxy, but my marriage as well.

As the months wore on, I was fully expecting to become Orthodox during the upcoming Easter. As the day approached, and my priest was not mentioning it, I felt like I had to ask. “Probably later this year – the Fall maybe.” This ‘maybe’ hung over my head. Would I ever be Orthodox? I was truly longing to experience the Eucharist – to participate in this sacramental theology rather than simply study it.

During this time I was continuing my study of the Church. One of my friends on TheologyWeb began a move toward the Catholic Church, and I was frenetically trying to convince him to ‘try Orthodoxy’. I was frequently involved in polemics against Catholicism. But in attacking the Catholic Church, I came to see that all that had been presented to me in my childhood and all that I learned in coming to the Orthodox Church was not what it had seemed. My views were changing, and I was quickly leaning toward a more hopeful view of Roman Catholicism.

One major push in this direction was the blog Pontifications by an Episcopal priest searching for his place in the True Church. He honestly was trying to investigate the claims of both East and West. The discussions on this blog were very helpful in forcing me to think in new ways. Ultimately, Fr. Al found his place in the Catholic Church. I still remember the profound disappointment I felt. I could be more hopeful about Catholics, but there was no way I was going to become one.

Here I was . . . a few months away from becoming Orthodox, now experiencing a bit of confusion regarding Roman Catholicism. Quite honestly I was disillusioned by the cacophony of opinions among Orthodox Christians concerning a myriad of topics – most especially ‘the West’ in general and Rome more specifically.

It was also during this time that I fell into the deepest period of darkness I’d ever known. This wasn’t due to my theological confusion, but my spiritual weakness. I allowed an old enemy to win a major battle, and the fallout was devastating – so much so that the whole war seemed over. Depression wafted over me, and I half-heartedly tried to regain my footing. Then Katrina hit. It was the perfect excuse not to make the effort to drive two hours to the Orthodox parish, so I didn’t. Soon I wasn’t attending at all. Soon I gave up and built a wall of anger out of my failure and self-loathing.

This condition lasted for months. I remember thinking when the end of the year rolled past – “I should have been Orthodox by now.” Yet I wasn’t. Not even close. My marriage, my sanity, my future – they seemed to be in the perpetual proverbial balance. Then I took a business trip. On this trip I was able to spend some time alone and think. And finally to pray. On my way home, the floodgates opened as I was pouring my heart out to God. Somewhere between Atlanta, GA and Mississippi, I found solace in God’s grace.

So, I came back home a ‘new man’. I started attending church with my wife. I was still not the ‘old Rusty’, and others could tell I still had reservations about a lot of things. However, I kept my opinions to myself and I tried my best to live a life of dedication to God and family. Yet all that I had learned, all that I had come to understand about God, the Church, history – I couldn’t shove it in some bin and forget. So, I started showing up at the daily masses held at the local Catholic parish. It really felt wonderful. I attended these quietly, not making a big deal about it to my wife or anyone else. Finally I began RCIA and entered the process of becoming Catholic.

I am four months past Easter vigil. That is the day where I finally received the body and blood of my Lord in the Eucharist. That is the day where I entered communion with Thomas Kempis, John Paul the Great, Thomas Aquinas, John Chrysostom, Gregory of Nazianzus, Teresa of Avila, St. John of the Cross, Augustine of Hippo, Jerome of Palestine and Rome, and a great cloud of other witnesses to the glory of the Catholic faith.

Today I was at daily Mass and meant every word when I said, along with the congregation, “Lord, I am not worthy to receive you, but only speak the word and I shall be healed.”

Formula of Hormisdas

The Formula of Hormisdas ended the Acacian schism, which had lasted for over thirty years. For what I think is a pretty good summary of the events leading up to the Formula, I would recommend this post by Dr. Philip Blosser.

The text of the Formula follows:

The first condition of salvation is to keep the norm of the true faith and in no way to deviate from the established doctrine of the Fathers. For it is impossible that the words of our Lord Jesus Christ, who said, “Thou art Peter, and upon this rock I will build my Church,” [Matthew 16:18], should not be verified. And their truth has been proved by the course of history, for in the Apostolic See the Catholic religion has always been kept unsullied. From this hope and faith we by no means desire to be separated and, following the doctrine of the Fathers, we declare anathema all heresies, and, especially, the heretic Nestorius, former bishop of Constantinople, who was condemned by the Council of Ephesus, by Blessed Celestine, bishop of Rome, and by the venerable Cyril, bishop of Alexandria. We likewise condemn and declare to be anathema Eutyches and Dioscoros of Alexandria, who were condemned in the holy Council of Chalcedon, which we follow and endorse. This Council followed the holy Council of Nicaea and preached the apostolic faith. And we condemn the assassin Timothy, surnamed Aelurus [”the Cat”] and also Peter [Mongos] of Alexandria, his disciple and follower in everything. We also declare anathema their helper and follower, Acacius of Constantinople, a bishop once condemned by the Apostolic See, and all those who remain in contact and company with them. Because this Acacius joined himself to their communion, he deserved to receive a judgment of condemnation similar to theirs. Furthermore, we condemn Peter [”the Fuller”] of Antioch with all his followers together together with the followers of all those mentioned above.

Following, as we have said before, the Apostolic See in all things and proclaiming all its decisions, we endorse and approve all the letters which Pope St Leo wrote concerning the Christian religion. And so I hope I may deserve to be associated with you in the one communion which the Apostolic See proclaims, in which the whole, true, and perfect security of the Christian religion resides. I promise that from now on those who are separated from the communion of the Catholic Church, that is, who are not in agreement with the Apostolic See, will not have their names read during the sacred mysteries. But if I attempt even the least deviation from my profession, I admit that, according to my own declaration, I am an accomplice to those whom I have condemned. I have signed this, my profession, with my own hand, and I have directed it to you, Hormisdas, the holy and venerable pope of Rome

Now,  actions speak louder than words.  Let me quote from the article by Dr. Blosser:

No less important than what Pope Hormisdas wrote (which we shall examine mementarily) is what he did. His action was decisive: he demanded that the Eastern bishops and emperor sign the document, signifying their assent to its content and submission to his authority.

The emperor at the time (518), Anastasius I, resisted. But his successor, Justin I, yielded to Rome, garnering for himself the exceptional legacy of being a great champion of Orthodoxy among the Eastern emperors and producing a domino effect in the Eastern Episcopate. This led to the singular event that brought to an end the Acacian Schism of 484-519: two hundred Eastern bishops were summoned to Constantinople and, in complicity to the demand of Pope Hormisdas, made to sign the document that has come to be known to posterity as the Formula of Hormisdas.

I am not arguing that the Formula of Hormisdas was a correct action (although I believe it was) or that it was an infallible document. What I am simply trying to convey is the fact that over five hundred years before the 1054 schism (and a little less than 500 years before the reforms of Pope Gregory VII), the Popes of Rome were sure of their role and what it meant for the universal Church.

Agreement with the formula aside, do you think that it significantly altered the conception of the Bishop of Rome’s role in the Church – both from his own perspective and that of the Church as a whole?