On conversions between Catholicism and Protestantism

Having grown up as a Protestant, I have heard countless testimonies of people who were “raised in the Catholic church,” but never had a real, personal faith until they found Jesus at a Protestant church later in life. It is almost a cliche in churches like mine. All the Catholic church seemed to be able to produce were spiritually dead Christmas-and-Easter Pseudo-Christians. This evidence formed the impression in me and most of my churchmates that the Catholic church was itself spiritually dead.

Recently, I have become aware of the existence of active, practicing Catholics. Their existence creates a rather interesting observation: not once in my years as a Southern Baptist did I ever meet a former Catholic who was an active, practicing Catholic at the time of their conversion to Protestantism. It seems that the only way these once-Catholics entered Protestant churches was by a decay or regression in their faith (or in the facade of supposed faith), passing through a period of non-religion or spiritual inactivity. In other words, these former Catholics became Protestant after a progression in which they became less Christian. I have never met a convert from Catholicism who experienced the opposite path–that of increasing devotion to his Catholic form of the Christian faith leading to the discovering of Protestantism as a purer, better way to practice his faith. Someone may come forward to testify against it, but it seems to me that Catholics who become Protestants are Catholics who have become less Christian, never those who have become more Christian and embraced Protestantism as a higher form of Christianity.

I have far less evidence for the case of Protestants who become Catholics, but the limited cases I have heard would lead me to tentatively suggest that the trend goes in quite the opposite direction: Protestants who become Catholics are almost always active, practicing Protestants at the time of their conversion, and they embrace Catholicism as a higher form of Christianity. Protestants do not experience a period of doubt about the whole foundation of Christianity, a loss of love for or faith in Christ and the gospel and the essence of our faith, and then, at the end of this process, discover Catholicism. Perhaps there are cases to the contrary, but I sense that generally it holds true.

To show another angle of what I mean, the folks at Called to Communion have pointed out that former-Catholic Protestants tend to be hostile towards the Catholicism of their upbringing, rejecting Catholicism as a body that has lost its Christian soul, whereas former-Protestant Catholics tend to extend mercy towards the Protestantism of their upbringing, accepting it as a Christian soul that has lost her body. The attitude of the Catholic who used to be Protestant is towards pity and reconciliation, whereas the attitude of the Protestant who used to be Catholic is towards resentment and refutation.

If these observations prove true, then they may suggest which is the truer form of Christianity, for Christianity itself would seem to instruct us that its truest form will attract the truest and most devout of all Christians, and will have the most charity toward the other forms, while its weakest form will attract the most disenchanted Christians, and be the most hostile toward other forms.

Vicarious aid, or, On World Vision’s recent decision and the response

For some odd reason, despite myself, and despite (or perhaps because of) the tense, divisive potential energy of the issue, I get most stirred about current events that relate back to (gay) marriage. And there are a lot of them. It’s like watching a great historical shift take place, one event at a time. The last big one was Duck Dynasty, and now we have World Vision. When I am old, I will probably see it all from a distance and remember it as one big shift.

On March 24, World Vision decided to allow the hiring of gay people. After their evangelical constituency dropped support of some 2,000 children within 48 hours, they changed the policy back. Here is a take on the whole goings on. It is quite biased and polemic, but I chose it because it sums up the feelings of many people regarding the issue, including many members of the Church, including some people in my church.

There is some real, honest angst against the evangelical bloc in these young Christians’ hearts, for good reason: they can’t understand why you would make a little child suffer, make them a victim it the culture war you are waging against the gay agenda. They can’t understand why you would pull your support from “the least of these” because you find it more important to protest a gay person joining in your support of those poor children.

I affirm wholeheartedly that the sympathy towards those poor children is justified. They are indeed victims and their well-being must be prized above all. Yet, I will admit, before World Vision recanted, I was seriously considering pulling my support and giving it to another humanitarian organization. (N.B. I do not sponsor a child directly, I support general funds at World Vision.) I was probably going to do it. How on earth could I do such a thing? The question, the heart-cry of my generation, demands an answer. Indeed, were they not crying out, my own heart would demand answer: it is a matter of resolving the cognitive dissonance in my own mind and aligning my heart and mind on the subject. So let me undertake here to explain to myself and my generation the truth that I hope and believe is not in opposition to love, but that mingles with it necessarily to create that divine balance we are called to speak.

As I do so, by the way, I would like to point out that I have moved away from association with evangelicalism, for some reasons that bear at least external resemblance to those listed by Rachel Held Evans, and for some quite different ones. Therefore I would ask not be considered as a spokesperson for evangelicalism here, and to be given freedom from association with the good deal of baggage that the evangelical bloc brings to this issue. Listen to me as a millenial follower of Jesus who is struggling to make sense and harmony of his life- and ego-shattering teachings.

So. I believe that my intended withdrawal of my funds from World Vision is not in opposition to my care and concern for those poor children. In fact, I believe deeply that it is because I hold a very great concern for them that I intended to withdraw my funds. Follow me:

First premise: True aid is always personal. The aid is devoid of its deepest meaning in absence of the personal context through which it is delivered. That’s why aid to Africa is often abused–give a man food impersonally, and he’ll stash it and steal his neighbor’s. Teach a man generosity by example, and he will, with God’s help, become a generous man. To truly aid someone, I must give them myself, not my money or my food.

So, being affectionately desirous of you, we were ready to share with you not only the gospel of God but also our own selves, because you had become very dear to us. (1 Thess 2:8)

Jesus did not send a message, but came to us Himself. Perhaps he knew that we needed his aid, not “aid” in abstract. As Marshall McLuhan said, “the medium is the message.” The people are the aid.

Second premise: In big aid organizations like World Vision the sponsors are not the ones personally giving the aid. Let’s face it: the connection that a sponsor in America has with that child in Bangladesh is vicarious, ephemeral, and superficial. Sure, you wrote them a note and they drew you a picture. But they think of you sort of like Santa Claus, not like a father or mother. Have you ever hugged them, or picked them up, or heard their voice? Have you really experienced their situation, met their caregiver, seen their school, walked between their house and the well that World Vision built to get water? Sponsoring a child through World Vision cannot be said to be truly aiding them, but rather to be sponsoring someone else to aid them. In large organizations like World Vision, the American sponsors have outsourced charity (in the old sense, meaning love) and been left with mere charity (in the new sense, meaning money). Even if true charity is done with our money, it is not we who do it in the fullest sense. I think that’s why World Vision lets you sponsor a child and get pictures of them, etc.– we want to feel a semblance of the personal connection we know must be there. Am I saying that sponsoring a child is bad? By no means! It just shouldn’t be confused with charity in the fullest sense. It’s good, but it only a part of the good that ought to be given, because the real ministry, the ultimate consummation of the aid, comes through the actual hands and feet that lovingly deliver that food and water, or teach in that dirt-floored one-room elementary school. For better or worse, we are doing only half of the ministry, and trusting those people we are paying to do the other half.

Third premise: The aid that we are called to give is aid in the name of Jesus. Aid apart from the name of Jesus is good, but it is less good, because aid in the name of Jesus has the ability not only to fill bellies or give people education, but to change the whole person–to bring not only water for the throat but the wellspring of living water, which, if you drink it, you will never thirst again. When I say “aid in the name of Jesus” I don’t mean aid from an organization that is branded as Christian, or is a politically or culturally “Christian” organization. I don’t mean sending children to Christian schools, per se. What I mean is that the Holy Spirit of Jesus, indwelling the body of a believer, ministers the food or water or health checkup to the child. In other words, there is something holy and importantly different when an anointed peasant-priest of God pours the cup of water, then looks into the eyes of that child and says, “God loves you, little girl.” It is almost an illocutionary act that changes reality, like when the pastor says, “I pronounce you husband and wife.” Bob Hitching said in a blog post on April 2 that he “would put serving the poor in the list of sacraments.” Therefore, it is crucial that the person giving the aid be a true believer.

Now, if you are giving aid yourself, that is pretty straightforward. You must have faith in God to be present with his sacramental power in your acts of love. However, if you are just supporting an aid organization, the situation is a bit different. You must have reason to trust the people you are giving money to, that they are true believers. That would be best done by personally knowing the people you are giving money to. We support our friends who are going to Africa because we trust them, because they are our friends and we know their hearts. However, let’s make the practical assumption that I cannot always personally know the people I am supporting or giving aid money to, i.e. I am giving to a big organization. This is the least desirable, perhaps, but necessary at times. In this case, I must vet that organization thoroughly and be super-cautious! What is their fiscal process like? What is their leadership climate? What is the heart of their employees? What are the conditions in the poor region I am funding? I think giving aid to an organization, if I must, demands, rightly, very high expectations for their alignment with the Church and my convictions.  The aid is quintessentially the people (premise 1), and the people are those looking the kids in the eye as much as me who buys the food (premise 2), and true aid must be done in the name of Jesus by his holy servants (premise 3). Therefore, if I don’t trust people to be those holy servants, I shouldn’t support the organization. Truly caring about those children — caring about the whole child, body and soul — means that I must find trustworthy personal conduits of the holy spirit to deliver my aid.

The last piece of the puzzle is whether an organization that allows gay people to work there (whether “on the ground” or in administration is irrelevant) can be trusted to deliver true aid as true believers. I won’t go into this, but suffice it to say that I believe it cannot.

I don’t think Christians are in the either-or situation that people threaten them with, because there are no shortage of trustworthy ways to give aid (myself and vicariously), so I don’t have to choose between helping the poor at all and choosing ways to help that are in line with my beliefs.

These thoughts also open up further questions about whether I should devote more of my resources to serving personally instead of supporting through (any) organization. Hm. At least, they seem to resolve the issue with World Vision.