^{Robert F. Swenson}

 

Some time ago I visited the Protestant radio network headquarters where I had worked for 18 years. As I spoke with former co-workers I was reminded of how utterly impossible it is, humanly speaking, for someone born and raised Protestant and trained for Protestant ministry to become a traditional Catholic. What follows are my thoughts on how and why I became a traditional Roman Catholic. There is much involved in my conversion...a staunch Protestant does not just wake up one day and convert. It took a series of events over a long period of time to convince me that I was in great error, and then much agonizing over what I had learned before I could make this great Faith my own.

As I consider my childhood, church attendance and church activities were the center of my family's life in Salt Lake City, Utah. Every time the church doors were opened, my older brother and sister and I were brought there, so it seemed. We attended a Baptist church at first. Later, we began attending the Evangelical Free Church, one of many conservative Protestant denominations. The church was small, but it was an established church with a good-sized youth group and numerous activities to keep us all interested.

From my church exposure I learned about the great men and women of faith in the Bible, and about a God who loves and cares for us so much that He sent His Son to die for our sins. I learned that I was a sinner having offended a holy God, and unless I made a decision to receive Jesus as my personal Savior, I would suffer an eternity in hell for my sins. I was taught that after I had made such a decision, I was "eternally secure," and even though I fell into very serious sin, I could never be rejected by God and sent to hell. I also heard that Christians are to live an exemplary life before the world and spend time reading and studying the Bible and in prayer. All this I recognized as good, but I often thought that there must be something missing in all this since so many of my church friends didn't really care about living a Christian life. As long as there were activities to keep them interested, they stayed in the church. But when they had the opportunity, they bolted and were gone.

I now remember coming close, at least in my thoughts, to something very "Catholic" in a "communion service" when I was a teenager. The pastor was reading the Bible account of the last supper from I Corinthians 11 where St. Paul was reflecting on our Lord's words, "This is my Body....This is my Blood." Those simple words, "this is," stuck in my mind. For just a moment, I was thinking, as a true Catholic would, in terms of what the Eucharist is: this is literally the body and blood of Christ. Just as quickly as that thought entered my mind, it departed as the pastor explained that it was the Lord's body and blood only in a symbolic sense. The thought came to me, Who am I to think something contrary to what an ordained pastor had been taught concerning this passage of Scripture? So I gave it no more thought.

At that time I knew nothing of actual Catholic teaching. However, I had all the typical Protestant notions of what the Catholic Church believed: worship of Mary and the saints, a Pope who cannot sin, idolatry (the use of statues), but most of all the idea that Catholics believe their salvation rested entirely on doing good works. Since I knew enough Bible to challenge this kind of belief, I never looked at the Catholic Faith as something to take very seriously at all. Little plastic statues on dashboards, dreamy-eyed paintings of Jesus, worshipping idols, no assurance of my salvation? Come on, be serious!

It wasn't until I was in my early 20's, and a soldier, that I met my first real Catholic. Paul Boudreau was an Intelligence Clerk, and I was an Illustrator/Draftsman assigned to the US Army's 62nd Engineer Battalion in the central coastal area of Vietnam. We shared lots of time together off-hours. He told me of his family (mom, dad, and four sisters–such a large family in my estimation!) in Queens, New York, and about his friend Bob with whom he liked to go drinking (scotch, I think). He spoke of all this while smoking one cigarette after another. In fact, he wouldn't roll off the bunk in the morning without lighting up first! To a Bible-believing Fundamental Protestant, drinking and smoking were anathema. However, Paul led a very moral life 10,000 miles from home, and he attended Mass in the battalion chapel every Sunday. One day Paul did the impossible: he gave up smoking. In its place he took up chewing gum, lots of gum. When I asked him why he was doing this, he said he wanted to give up something for Lent. I thought, Well there he goes, trying to work his way to heaven. Isn't that just like a Catholic! Somehow Paul made it through Lent without a smoke, and regardless of my ideas on what I thought was Catholic teaching, I have to say that I was impressed by what he did, though I never told him so. So, that was my first exposure to anything "Catholic."

Following my discharge from the Army, I met Julie Monroe at the singles' Sunday school class at Cherrydale Baptist Church in Arlington, Virginia. I was the president of the group, and she was a student at Virginia Commonwealth University (VCU) in Richmond, Virginia, and home for the summer. Two years later in August of 1971 she became my wife, and we took up residence near the VCU campus; she continued her studies, and I took up work as a draftsman at Westinghouse Infilco.

Life went along pretty well for us as we settled into married life with our cat and gerbils. We enjoyed new friends, searching for country antiques, riding our new 10-speed bikes (quite the thing at that time), and visiting all the historic sites in and around Richmond. We also joined another Baptist church in a nice part of town. Our interests in the things of God were only casual, nothing of real commitment. After a few months, Julie reminded me of my promise to go to college, so I decided to pacify her by taking a couple of night classes at VCU. I enjoyed the studies, but had no real goal in mind.

In the summer of 1972 life began to change in a way that had never happened before. On a whim, Julie and I decided to visit a large church in Lynchburg, Virginia (Thomas Road Baptist Church, pastor Jerry Falwell). The sermon spoke to both of us in a very unusual way, and as a result, we both made a commitment to God to forsake the way of the world, and follow Christ, whatever that meant. Driving home that night, all I could think of was that I knew God had some work for me to do, and I was determined to find out what it was and do it, regardless of what family and friends might say.

But what did God want me to do? While looking through a list of the courses of study at Lynchburg Baptist College (a school Falwell had begun), I spotted something that "clicked," a major in Television, Radio & Film. LBC also emphasized Bible and theology classes along with all courses of study. That's it! But I had never been to college full-time, and I had not done well at all in high school. What chance did I have in college? In my King James Bible I found a verse, "Without faith it is impossible to please him (God): for he that cometh to God must believe that he is, and that he is a rewarder of them that diligently seek him" (Heb. 11:6). Attending college would be my first real test of faith. As it turned out, I did very well that first year, and went on to complete a BS degree in three years. And when I finished there, I continued on at the University of Maryland for a Master of Arts degree in broadcasting. All of this trusting God for a future work that I believed He had in store for me.

 

During those years in Maryland, Julie and I became avid listeners of radio station WFSI, Annapolis, Maryland, one of the stations owned by Family Stations, Inc., an evangelical radio network with its headquarters in Oakland, California. Our studies in theology by that time had lead us to the reformed Calvinistic way of thinking, and Harold Camping, general manager and Bible teacher at Family Radio, was a strong teacher of reformed theology. I began to see that perhaps being a part of such a broadcast organization was what God had in mind for me when we began to be serious about our faith years ago. Through a most unusual set of circumstances, Family Radio offered me a position at their Oakland headquarters. We jumped at the opportunity, packing up a truck and the baby, and headed West.

Our move to California was the second major act of faith we would encounter. At the time of the job offer from Family Radio, having gone to school for six years and having worked for not-for-profit organizations for some time, we simply did not have enough money to make the move. We had no debts at all, but we also had no money. However, we were so confident that God was in this move, that we simply "trusted Him" to bring the money our way, and He did.

Life in Oakland went well for several years. I loved my job. There was nothing I loved more than producing radio programs. I was in my element! Then one day it happened: I had a question that bothered me so much that I had to ask the general manager, Harold Camping, for an answer. The question that came to mind was this: by what authority dare I switch on the microphone, read the Bible, and say "Thus saith the Lord"? Or, saying it another way, how do I know if my interpretation of the Bible is the correct one? Given the fact that others have the same Bible and claim the same Holy Spirit guiding them, how can they come up with quite different interpretations of the same Scriptures? Who is right, and how can anyone know for sure? Most importantly, how can I be sure of my own eternal destiny when others have a different interpretation of fundamental doctrines? Well, Mr. Camping's answer wasn't any help. "You're saved, aren't you, Bob? You have the Holy Spirit and the Bible," implying, what else do you need?

What I was hearing was not a good enough answer. If there is a loving God in heaven, there had to be a better answer. What I was looking for was a real authority, a foundation on which to build my faith, and I found none in any of the many churches and Protestant organizations I had been associated with. After a short period of time, I came to the conclusion that there was no such authority to be found; we have to trust God as individuals to lead us to the truth, and then do the best we can on our own to make our way in this sea of Christian confusion. But why would God, in His wisdom, leave us floundering like this? There was something wrong with this picture, but I had no idea where to turn for the answer.

My conversion account would not be complete without including mention of my wife's brother, Doug Monroe. Doug has always been a theologian of sorts, spending much time in Bible study, coming up with some rather impressive insights in his work. As a Protestant he always wanted to live a "life of faith," not working a job, but trusting God to meet his needs, a kind of a monk or hermit. One day he spoke with Julie about his desire to live the life of a monk. She told him, "Then be one–that's what you are." At that, Doug picked up the phone book, looked up "Churches, Catholic," called a number, identified himself as a Protestant, and asked how he could become a monk! That was the first step of the greatest act of faith any of us had ever taken. The operator told him that he would have to become Catholic, but since he was Protestant, he might check out the Anglicans. That search led him to St. Peter's Episcopal Church in Oakland, a High Anglican church, and an ongoing conversation with the priest who knew Catholic doctrine and Church history very well. Doug had a kind of crash course in Church history from the perspective of the Catholic Church, and intensive catechetical teaching. In the evenings, after our kids were in bed, he would report on what he had learned that day. We would get into shouting matches over many of the issues that separate Protestants and Catholics. I thought on many occasions, "What on earth is he getting into now? He's been into scuba diving, sea kayaking, sailboarding, organic food, and now Catholicism?" And so much of what he is hearing flies in the face of all we have ever believed. Night after night I would challenge him on this doctrine or that teaching; night after night he would defend the Church's teaching with very good logical and biblical answers! I was frustrated since I could not defend the Protestant position on some very basic issues such as salvation by faith alone and Bible-only theology. Doug finally said that we would have to attend Mass the next Sunday and see for ourselves. And we did.

Doug warned us about all the things we would see in the church that would offend us: the statues, the crucifix, the altar, the priest, etc. All this looks awfully Catholic; this is surely the enemy's territory! These were my thoughts as I sat there in the pew. Not too far into the Mass I lost the place in the prayer book, so I just observed and listened. I have to admit that I loved the reverence displayed in the reading of the Epistle and the Gospel. And I identified immediately with the symbolism I had read of in the Old Testament: the incense, vestments, and special vessels. But all the while I was defending myself from all that Satan was throwing at me, so I thought.

I was doing very well, thank you, until the consecration. The priest had his back to us, but I could make out his words very clearly: "This is My Body....This is My Blood." He was speaking very quietly, but my heart could not have heard those familiar words more loudly. My thoughts flashed back to the communion service years ago when I considered those same words, but this time I let my mind dwell on them. It was as though an arrow had pierced right through me. "This is": How much clearer could our Lord make it for us? To me, suddenly it just made perfect sense. But, wait a minute, this must be "the enemy" once again attempting to advance on my soul. However, in retrospect, that moment became another turning point of my spiritual journey.

The next few days brought much in the way of questions, soul-searching questions, not just of a spiritual nature, but also of a practical nature. What would our pastor and our friends say? What would my family think? And then, what about my job?

We continued to attend St. Peter's Episcopal Church, where the priest taught us the Catholic view of Church history, a Catholic view of theology, and about the teachings of the Church Fathers and saints. (Also, he was wise in warning us about the effect of the Second Vatican Council, and how it had wreaked havoc on the Catholic Church.) In a nut shell, it all made such sense! Protestants base their "faith" on teachings of men from the time of the Protestant Reformation; Catholics base their faith on the teachings of the Apostles who sat under Jesus Christ Himself! I had wondered for years why God would have allowed Christians to flounder from the time of the Apostles until the Reformation (some 1500 years!) before He would rejoin His Church and bring the gospel to the world through the reformers and their Protestant sects. It would appear that the gates of hell had indeed prevailed against the Church for most of Church history if the Protestants were right! And the final surprise was that I had finally found an authority that claimed to be THE authority to teach truth: the Catholic Church! How blind we were up to this time. Sure, we had all manner of questions about Catholic doctrine and practice. But as we worked our way along through all this, one issue or doctrine at a time, it all fit together perfectly. But, again, what if all this is Satan's wily way to trick us? Are we being deceived?

Occasionally God would send us an indication that we were heading in the right direction. One such example came in the form of a cassette tape recording of the conversion of Scott Hahn, a former Presbyterian pastor who had become Catholic. One night Doug, Julie, and I sat at the kitchen table listening to Scott's story in total amazement. His path was in many ways the same as ours. He too had been a conservative Presbyterian, reformed in theology, and a pastor afraid of what it might cost him personally if he were to become a Catholic. This man had walked the same path as we had, asking all the same questions, and had found all the answers in the Catholic Faith. That tape came at precisely the right moment for the three of us. It was just the help we needed in our pursuit of truth. We alternately laughed and cried there at the kitchen table.

While we continued to read and study, we also attended daily Mass in neighborhood Catholic churches in the area. We were troubled by the various things we witnessed. We saw irreverence in the Mass, lack of regard for the Blessed Sacrament, liturgical dancers, and other disturbing things. In addition, we read of the abuses coming out of Rome itself. From priests to Pope, Church leaders were both straying away from the teaching of the Church, and living lives that one would expect to find only in the lowest parts of society! What was going on?

Once again, God's timing was at work. One day we were visiting with the proprietor of a small Catholic gift shop in downtown Oakland who spoke of her church where the traditional Latin Mass was said. Fr. Vladimir Kozina, an elderly Slovenian priest at St. Margaret Mary Church had received "permission" to say the Indult Mass once per week. When we attended the first time, as we read along in the missal, we knew we had found what we were looking for, the Mass that we had read about in our studies, the Mass for which countless saints had given their lives down through the centuries, the Mass that had been all but killed by Vatican II. One Sunday morning as we were getting ready to go to Mass, Julie popped the question: "Are we going to become Catholic or not?" In the context of what we had observed and heard concerning the present-day Church, I responded, "Regardless of what we have seen in the present-day Church, this is the Church that Christ established long ago on the Rock, Peter. This is it. We have to become Catholics!" That Sunday, immediately following Mass, we sought counsel from Fr. Kozina about how we could finally become Roman Catholics. On All Saints' Day, 1991, having received conditional baptism, my wife, our four children, and I were brought into the Catholic Church.

The news of our conversions began to spread around at Family Radio. Harold Camping, General Manager, upon hearing it ordered me into his office where he made it very clear that if he heard anything in my programs that could be considered specifically "Catholic," I'd be out of a job. (The truth is that there was much that went out over the air to the entire country that was very "Catholic.") Camping also said that our conversion was the worst thing that had ever happened to any employee in the 35-year history of the organization. That was quite a statement since Family Radio employees had committed their share of serious sin: suicide, theft, divorce, etc. So this, in his eyes, was the worst thing yet! Little did he know there would be more converts in the future.

About that time, our priest, Fr. Kozina, retired, and the traditional influence he put forth at St. Margaret Mary Church began to wane. Some parishioners decided to stay at St. Margaret Mary Church and hope for the best, some began attending independent chapels, and some traveled an hour or more to a St. Pius X chapel in Los Gatos, near San Jose, California.

At first I was apprehensive of the Society of St. Pius X. I had heard that they were schismatic, and that was enough to keep me away from them. What changed my mind was a visit to the SSPX church in Oak Park, Illinois, Our Lady Immaculate, where I witnessed the piety of its members. Frankly, I was impressed by what I witnessed. When I returned home, I purchased the three-volume set of books by Michael Davies, Apologia pro Marcel Lefebvre [available as a set from Angelus Press.] which outlines the charges and actions against the founder of the Society of St. Pius X, and I concluded with Davies that Rome was out of order in the excommunication of Archbishop Lefebvre. Further inquiry lead me to realize that the Society has never been declared to be schismatic by Rome at all; in fact, what they are is simply Catholic. That was what I was searching for–a church that was "Catholic." We became actively involved in the Society chapel in Los Gatos, California, immediately.

One of the amazing aspects of our Faith is God's timing. Julie had been diagnosed with cancer several years previously, and as she became unable to attend Mass at all, a Society priest would bring her the Blessed Sacrament. At that time I was working nights at Family Radio so I could take Julie to her doctor visits and therapy during the day. In December 1998, though, my days at Family Radio came to a sudden end. One night I checked my mail box and found a new "Statement of Faith" for me to sign and return. The previous Statement was very general and a bit ambiguous, something a Catholic could live with. But the new Statement was written in a totally different manner, and very specific in its anti-Catholic tone, so I could not sign it. The next morning, Harold Camping telephoned to inform me that my work at Family Radio was ended, but he wanted to see me in his office in the afternoon to talk. Although I had no idea how I could take care of the needs of my wife and family, I cannot put into words how relieved I was to finally be free from that old connection with my Protestant past. In my hour-long visit with Camping this relieved attitude must have been obvious as I dominated the conversation with this man who normally is very controlling. I had the floor, for once. I challenged him on his primary theological premise, one of the two pillars of Protestantism: the Bible alone and in its entirety is the basis of our faith and practice (the other pillar being salvation by faith alone). I asked for Scripture references to support his position, and he had none. Isn't it strange that the fundamental beliefs of the so-called Protestant Reformation have no biblical basis at all? If one believes that the Bible is the only source for faith and practice, should we not expect to find clear references to that point of theology in the Bible? I also pointed out that he and all Protestants are under the curse of God (Apoc. 22:19) for removing entire books from the Bible. (Protestants have long accused Catholics of adding the deuterocanonical books to the Old Testament though these books had been canonized by the early Church Fathers. In reality it is the Protestants who are in error, as they are guilty of removing the deuterocanical books from the Old Testament!) I was taken aback by his next comment, "Well, Bob, at least we have the 66 books of the Bible." What that means, coming from him, is that he recognizes the error of the Protestant world in removing parts of the Bible. However, he would never admit (in public) that he then disagrees with his own basic premise that the Bible alone and in its entirety is the Word of God!

As I said, God's timing was just right. Since I was free from the responsibility of working, I was then available to be with Julie 24 hours a day for the next three months, to take care of hospice care and other business at home. In the last month of her life, she was blessed with receiving the sacraments of Confession, Communion, and Extreme Unction, and with them all the graces that can come from the Church. On February 13, 1999, she was taken from us to go to God.

About a month later, after my family had settled into a new regimen, once again Doug sensed it was time for him to move on. He still wanted to live a life of prayer and meditation as a hermit. But where? He would need the basics of life: food, shelter, clothing, and access to a traditional Mass. He searched maps of the US, and came up with only one possible area that would neither be too hot in the summer nor too cold in the winter. The area he settled on was in the Gila National Forest near Our Lady of Guadalupe Monastery not far from Silver City, New Mexico. He lived there for over one year, after which, through very unusual circumstances, he was able to relocate to private property surrounded by an even more remote part of the Gila National Forest. After eight years of hermit life, he still has no source of income. His every need is met much by non-Catholics. In a recent letter he reported that he is finally doing what God had called him to do decades ago.

In addition to Doug, Holly, my oldest daughter, has chosen a similar path. Following a silent retreat at St. Aloysius Retreat Center in Los Gatos, California, she knew that the religious life was for her. Her spiritual director encouraged her to consider the religious life. For Holly, at the age of 20, it was a giant act of faith to leave her family and go to a strange place not knowing the language and not knowing what it would be like. Three years later she made her first vows, and in July of 2006 I was blessed to be present as she made her final vows.

As for the rest of my family, Joel is working in apartment maintenance, and Heather and Hannah finished high school at home, and have their own work and lives. I have been working in property management and apartment inspections (when it comes down to it, one does what his hands find to do). We all are active at Our Mother of Perpetual Help Chapel in Los Gatos, California, part of the Society of St. Pius X.

Looking back on the events that led up to our becoming traditional Catholics, it is rather amazing. There is no way, humanly speaking, that we could have arranged the pieces of the puzzle to bring us here. For me it began with the question of authority; the real question was how can I be sure my understanding of truth is true? From there, years later, it lead to my brother-in-law's inquiry about living as a monk, our exposure to what was at least outwardly "Catholic" in a High Anglican church, and to a copy of the conversion story of a former Presbyterian pastor. From there our path led to the owner of a Catholic gift shop who directed us to the traditional Latin Mass and the Slovenian priest who was instrumental in directing our steps into the Catholic Church. And finally side-stepping the novelties and errors of the Novus Ordo Church, we found our way to a traditional Catholic society that is totally Roman Catholic. Once we were introduced to the Catholic faith of history, the Church of the Fathers of our Faith who sat at the feet of the Apostles, we were on our way to truth. With that as a foundation, the teachings of the Protestant sects had to go, and with them the novelties of the modern Catholic Church.

Why did I become Roman Catholic? I became Roman Catholic because this is the Church Jesus Christ built on Peter, the rock (Mt. 16:18), and I want to be obedient to the authority that Christ established. Why did I become a traditional Roman Catholic? I became a traditional Roman Catholic because only in the time-tested traditions of the Church can the Roman Catholic Church be found. As St. Paul said long ago, "But though we, or an angel from heaven, preach a gospel to you besides that which you have received, let him be anathema" (Gal. 1:8).

 

 

Robert F. Swenson is a Catholic who hopes that his conversion story may help someone to become a Catholic or encourage others in their Catholic Faith.