Lost Dream

I remember it like a lost dream. It was a time where I was confused yet curious, trying to figure out the world and the universal truth of God. Before the pandemic, I had been thinking about the Apostolic Churches. After researching the Bible for my basic college courses run by smart Protestants who graduated from top Bible schools in the country, I saw the lowest form of Protestantism as incapable. Reformed Baptist life, non-denominational life, etc… all of it felt like I was on the wrong path due to ignorance. I had learned so much apologetics, so much about the formation of the bible that I would come across as a madman to the protestants I encountered. The faith was so shallow because it was all via the intellect. You had to know these formulas and formulations of doctrine in order to be a good Christian, we had a social Palagianism that hurt me. Once I was speaking to a Lutheran girl who I had a crush on trying to speak of the faith and she knew only the fair basics. Okay, maybe I should talk to those who are actually committed to the faith. What I found was that they had an entirely different worldview than me on how to apply faith to our lives. The devout missionary girl I had a crush on freshman year of college? She agreed with Bart Ehrman that Christianity was always fractured in the earliest days, fighting for dominance like beasts and only the oppressive Catholic Church won. There were “multiple Christianities" she said. In my studies, I was learning from staunch German Protestants who some of which denied Jesus being God. Was this my tradition as a Christian? These people who are on wildly different ideas that I could not square with historical Christianity (or the little I knew about the real thing). The faith was shallow for those who did not study as hard as I did in history and the faith became an ideological plaything to those who took the time. Perhaps I’m leaving details out, some which would make the throughline make more sense but I was discerning where the truth was. I was invested in the Eastern Orthodox, until I came across their static doctrine which had not developed for almost 1000 years. My friend told me I wouldn’t be able to reasonably find an Eastern Orthodox girl to date which led me to thinking about how this Church is so unknown to the general masses despite claiming “no salvation outside of the Church”. And that doctrine, unlike the Catholic Church, had not developed qualifiers for that statement. How can a Church that is hidden to most of humanity and does not evangelize become the pillar of truth? This led me to having to return to my Catholic Faith, begrudgingly. I felt like I had no other place left. How could all those faithful Christians for 1500 years in the Catholic Church who believed all these Catholic teachings go to Hell? There was no Protestantism yet, even though I didn’t know the history of the liturgy I knew enough to decide that there was enough there that you have to make a choice: either the Christians who believed all these things could go to Heaven or they were damned because Christ’s Church (whether you think it is visible or invisible) had failed until Martin Luther showed up. And even then, no Protestant actually believes what Luther did so one can’t claim him as a hero of Church history because he despised the branches of Christianity that actually had some movement in the last century. The answer I was given by a staunch anti-catholic pastor that of course there had to be some faithful Christians who went to Heaven was unsatisfactory to me. They were all Catholic/Orthodox. And those hypothetical Christians who disagreed with the Apostolic tradition were probably barbaric ex-pagans like the Germanic tribes OR weirdo heretics such as the Cathars who were more gnostic than Christian. 

I had returned to the Catholic Church with my head held higher than ever before. Finally, I felt like I was being spiritually fed. Turns out that having a religion where your actions matter means that its tangible and fulfilling to know that God is pleased by your commitment to him. In Protestantism, I believed God hated me. That nothing I could do would make him happy. That I was a sinner and there was nothing that could save me from my habitual sins. That I was broken and the hand I was dealt with was all I had. This is a toxic subculture brought about from Reformed theology. As much as they do not want to admit it, their hellfire preaching mixed with reformed anthropology makes for a faith where you believe that God does not love you. A big thing in coming back to the Catholic Church was finding grace that God could love me despite all of my sins and help me repent to become a better person. Almost everything I learned from Anti-Catholics turned out to be not true. And when they were almost close to being true, they then mischaracterized it to the point of making me facepalm. 

My faith felt more secure than ever these days. Like sure maybe some doubts but they were just the typical ones you’d feel for anything akin to “am I choosing the right girl to marry” or “Is this job offer better than the other”. Nothing serious, I didn’t have to do mental gymnastics as I learned the faith through my own personal studies with my growing theology book collection. Everything made sense to me, learning Church history from the Catholic perspective had everything click to me. My heroes Scott Hahn and others I watched interviews of, absorbing so much knowledge as I could. I was changing my habits, going out for the first time in my life to meet friends to discuss theology and become better people. Actually being challenged to change myself for the better, which I never found in Protestantism because there your actions don’t matter. Finally, the faith wasn’t an exercise of pure intelligence but with a person of Jesus in the Eucharist. I was meeting people who loved Jesus and his Church, they didn’t need to be rocket scientists or have a hyperfixation on theology to be good Christians. Their commitment to Christ and his Church was more than enough. 

I was absorbing so much Scott Hahn content that I noticed his materials were coming out of Franciscan University at Steubenville Ohio. I felt envious of the students there, learning theology in such high quality. So much attention and care to the Lord. I wanted to be there, I felt like I was missing out on something big. On becoming someone greater by missing my shot there. Sure, my time at Roberts Wesleyan College (now University) at the time was great (I loved all my classes, it was very fun) but I wanted to learn theology. I felt like I was called to go study there, breaking out of my comfort zone. And I did despite the protests of my parents who wanted me home to make sure I wasn’t in any danger being alone for the first time (I lived at home during my first two years at college). Being there the first few months felt like a dream to me. I was finding my own place in the world. Despite the crazy challenges I would face, at least I was building my own life and getting through it day by day.

I wanted to be just like them, the people I read in those conversion stories. Who become heroes in the Church like Scott Hahn or the plenty of others I saw whose lives changed. I wanted to become a professor, a teacher, whatever for the sake of the kingdom of God. I was envious of their stories of success. And that’s where I lost myself, in trying to imitate others because I thought that my own life didn’t have value. I suffer from some Autistic memory fog, things in my life are a blur when they shouldn’t be. Many memories for me are not clear, probably because as an adolescent I would overthink my behavior in front of people that I grew mentally exhausted. This contributed to my ego death, forgetting these memories and hard trials I’ve done. When I go through excruciating trials, I find myself unable to remember when I’ve been through worse unless someone mentions it to me. Since college, there was a period of time that I forgot why I had made a choice to return to the Catholic Church in the first place. Like all the hardship and trials I had faced, academically and spiritually became a blur to me. On the spot I could not recall my objections to calvinism I had even as a protestant or why Sola Scriptura had burned me personally. It was a mess of thoughts and memories for a person I didn’t even know if I could recognize. Some people would get peeved that I would bring up the same Protestant objection I’ve brought up 3 years ago, as if I had discovered an enemy vessel on the coastline. Only then for them to see it’s a shipwreck that’s been abandoned for years. All of this (and more I am not comfortable with sharing here) led me to wanting to destroy my life by having the most important person in my past life in Ohio come after me to destroy me. I manipulated everyone to come after me and get rid of me, leaving me to finish my final two months of college at home. I graduated on time but for what? My dream was buried because I wasn’t there, I wasn’t at my alma mater to receive the fruits of my labor. The hard work I had given to this institution had been spat out and they sent me off while they treated others as heroes. I was just a cog in the machine to them. This is the closest I had felt to the Church hurting me, but it wasn’t really the Church more so Student life so spiritually I wasn’t mad at the Church luckily. However, I believed that my life didn’t matter anymore. That I was used up, like some sort of obstacle for the people I had manipulated to become stronger and become the real heroes for the Church. That all my bad luck with finding stable work is my fault for the sins I’ve committed years ago, that I’ll never be as pure as I once was. Now that my memory is foggy, I’ve forgotten about the strong bold Catholic man I used to be. Some days it’s easier to remember the man I’ve been, some days I feel like that person never existed. But the difference is that I can’t remember the guilt for those sins I should be. It’s like hearing someone else take control of your life and you see the mess they made. They didn't care about my mental wellbeing beyond getting rid of me, it was easy to tell. My mother was told to her face the common phrase said about Autistic kids that their disabilities and their actions don't mix. That I was the problem, because I always was. I had to just accept that they erased my life at Ohio and that I had to live with that. They forced me to go and drop out of my classes, threatening me with expulsion without telling me what I did wrong. They said I had two choices, leave during a snowstorm or face judgment. The minute I returned home... I stared at the ceiling thinking that I was just dead. My life was over. I didn't go anywhere except to Sunday mass for over a month after coming back home for good.

I used to wanna be a hero like them, but now I’ve been trying to live my own life. Away from the glamour and glory. I wanted to marry the girl, become the famous theology, have the family I always dreamed to have. That maybe they'd love me if I beame someone else. To be myself and discover who I am rather than all of those dreams I’ve had before. And hopefully someday I can become that good Catholic man I remembered myself to be.