“. . . But God Meant It for Good” (Rick's Story)
This talk is going to appear in longer form
in the Coming Home Ministry
newsletter, the one that Marcus Grody produces, so I won’t go into near the
detail here. Most preachers have a watch; they normally give me a calendar, so
I will try to be brief in the two hours I was given this afternoon.
How did I get, as the Parable of the
Prodigal Son teaches—actually, it’s really, the parable of the Prodigal
Father—whose love is extravagantly, irresponsibly, unceasingly, compellingly
Prodigal in every regard—to the house of my Father, and return to Catholicism?
I was baptized and confirmed in a nominally
Catholic home. My dad’s career in the U.S. military and in the diplomatic
service led us overseas among many moves as our 6-child family grew up, spending
years in Panama, Cuba, and Colombia. Despite a Jesuit education into high
school, by the time we returned to Washington, D.C. in the late 1960’s, I was a
high school student growing rapidly disillusioned with my faith, and with the
Catholic Church (if you may remember, the church in Washington DC was in its
post-Vatican II loopy phase, and our parish was particularly goofy. By the time
I was a cadet at West Point, I had come to describe myself as an agnostic, more
to the fact that I enjoyed sleeping in on Sunday mornings instead of mandatory
religious services than any burning agnostic conviction.
A few years later, after I dropped out of
West Point, I started attending an informal, evangelical Bible Study in one of
the dormitories at the University of Florida in Gainesville, and after a few
months I joined the Crossroads Church of Christ and rededicated my life to
Christ. The congregation had a large and active campus ministry, with hundreds
of college students, and thousands of members—one of the few bi-racial churches
in the South. I later made the decision to enter the ministry and prepare in
the church’s training program. I was hired as campus minister, later promoted
to evangelist, of the Mountain Avenue Church of Christ in Tucson, Arizona, near
the University of Arizona campus. I took classes in Old Testament archaeology
and biblical languages at U. of A., and led a campus ministry that grew from
one lukewarm Church of Christ student to over 400 students in 4 years, mainly
through outreach to unchurched students on campus. When I was promoted to
pastor, our church continued to grow from about 250 members to over 1000
members. I made a lot of mistakes, especially baptizing Mexicans and poor
people as well as college students and new families…the old guard did not
appreciate the rapid growth and all the challenges it caused. Many times, I was
a thoughtless jerk and rigidly insistent on my own way, and my arrogance and
brashness hurt many people. I have apologized many times for the mistakes and
sins of my ministry in those years.
After the first year of my ministry in
Arizona, I returned to Florida and married a woman back at the Crossroads
Church, who joined me in the ministry in Tucson. While time does not permit me
to share all the details, and privacy concerns are also important, I did not
realize that my wife was a homosexual until after we had been married. I cannot
adequately describe the tears, the conflict, the struggles, the embarrassment
and humiliation we both suffered along the way in this rocky relationship. Years
later, my wife finally “came out” and asked for a divorce, leaving me to care
for our two boys. But I am getting ahead of myself.
We eventually moved to the Boston Church of
Christ and I trained to be their theologian in residence. During this time, I
completed another Master’s degree, this one in Old Testament theology, from
Harvard Divinity School. My time at Harvard was an opportunity to reflect on my
faith and my church, to start to glimpse the sorry state of mainline
Protestantism, and to begin what would be a serious study of the Eucharist in
the early church. It got to the point where I could no longer preach and teach with
conviction that when we observed the Lord’s Supper, we were only remembering the death and resurrection
of Christ, a standard Protestant approach. Something else was going on in the experience
of early Christian participation in Holy Communion. From the biblical texts, to
the Fathers and Doctors of the church, it was growing clearer that there was an
unmistakable distinction between the church they were describing and the church
of which I was a minister.
Also growing was my concern that the
overtly fundamentalist and overly regimented behavioral expectations in the
Crossroads Church of Christ were become far more extreme and abusive in the
Boston Church of Christ. I have published several books on this phenomenon, a
type of “Christian cultism” that combines the classic behaviors of religious
cults with the veneer of conservative Christianity, so I won’t go into it in
great detail here about the experience. After a number of years, I finally made
the decision to resign from my ministry in Boston. The decision caused a fair
amount of controversy, as I had developed a profile as an author, preacher, and
speaker worldwide within Churches of Christ. I finally began to speak about our
experiences, eventually being interviewed by The Boston Globe, The
Washington Post, The New York Times,
and such television programs as ABC’s “20/20”, the Sunday talk shows, and other
news shows. I was also becoming more aware with cult-like groups that had a
Christian worldview (I had a focus on my Old Testament studies at Harvard in
apocalyptic theology, so the modern-day corollaries were compelling), and began
a ministry to help people recruited into these groups. I would come to serve as
an advisor and consultant for law enforcement groups dealing with such groups,
notably serving (unpaid) with the FBI in the Branch Davidian group activities
in Waco, Texas, in the early 1990’s, and the Heaven’s Gate group later that
decade. Through our ministry, we helped hundreds of people get their kids back,
but the legal, security, and psychic costs were considerable. I also
relocated my family from Boston to the Washington, D.C. metro area, and began
working fulltime in a family-owned business in technology. I am thankful to
this day that there was an opportunity for me to retrain my skills to support
my family in a new technology career, for there were no churches where I could
work.
How I kept a Christian faith in the midst
of a divorce, a change in career, and in losing every religious community I had
ever known is still something I wonder about. In hindsight, it could only be
the comfort and consolation of the Holy Spirit. I came to deeply appreciate the
story of Joseph in the Book of Genesis (which was the story I first read in
Hebrew when I was learning that language years ago), and made several of its
lessons my own. As many know, the Joseph story is one of abuse, imprisonment,
alienation, and evil that happens to Joseph, but he nevertheless shows an
faith-driven ability to not surrender to defeat and discouragement, retaining
his faith in God, and eventually ends up as a key leader in pharonic Egypt,
able to help the very family members who had sold him into slavery years
before. At the end of the story, there is that poignant moment when Joseph
finally reveals himself to his brothers, and as they are terrified that he now
stood with all the power to sentence them to death. He finally says, “You meant
it for evil, but God meant it for good, and for the salvation of many.”
(Genesis 50:20) Looking back on my life to that point, I could only reflect
with great sadness on all the things I had lost and suffered—a wife and
marriage, and the humiliation of having to resign a life in Christian ministry.
It was almost overwhelming, but each of these trials served to refine a faith
that was still evolving; when all the props get kicked out, you discover how
real God’s presence and comfort can be. Steadily, almost imperceptive in
progress, through Bible reading and prayer, I felt a growing desire to
investigate the Catholic Church.
Moving to Colorado Springs in 2004 opened
many doors that I felt had been permanently closed; at some encouragement from
my college-aged sons, I had begun dating again (wow, was that terrifying!), I was granted an annulment from my
first marriage for a number of understandable reasons. I met a wonderful woman
who was a member of St. Patrick’s Catholic Church in Colorado Springs (and, of
course, to this recovering Protestant, she had to be named “Mary”), and we
began to attend Mass there regularly as we fell in love. In a moment that still
brings tears to my eyes, I was formally received back into the Catholic Church
by Father Joe Damhorst, who had tenderly and patiently guided my thinking, my
study, and my steps back into the Faith. Prior to my confession and acceptance
into fellowship, “Father Joe” and Mary encouraged me to take a 3-day Ignatian
retreat to clear my head, make certain of my decision, and reflect upon God’s
guidance and direction of my life.
So many things that had been lost were now
found and reborn in redemptive ways. After dating Mary for some time, we were
finally married on August 4, 2006 by Father Joe at St. Patrick’s. Along with
Father Joe, the pastor of St. Patrick’s at the time, Father Brad Noonan, began
showing me a vision for ministry as a lay Catholic. Father Brad gave me papal
encyclicals to read, and recommended other materials to answer my continued questions.
When he shared with me Dei Verbum, I
devoured it, marked it up, and realized that is was possible, even necessary,
for the scriptural foundation of the Catholic Church, and a deeper appreciation
for the Word of God than I had heretofore seen among the Catholics I had known.
For our thoughts today, I think that the
prayers of many were always there, including those of my mother, and one of my
aunts who prayed every day for me. My dad and I fought about me leaving the
Catholic church, then we fought about me being the wrong flavor of Protestant, then
we fought about my not speaking in tongues…in fact, there were very few issues
in religion that we did not fight about. So let me say this—I don’t think there
is any substitute for just shutting up. My discussions with my dad, who himself
left Catholicism and became a Pentecostal, are a lot different now. Despite
every temptation to offer reply—and every one of my friends will attest to my
overwhelming desire to say something, anything—I have been intentionally reluctant
to engage my dad, and spend more time praying for him, and deflecting his
complaints and gripes for a more opportune time. In 10 years of doing this, he
has come to a greater respect for the Catholic Church than argument could ever
produce. I send him the link to my homilies (I have a blog; it’s a wonderful
opportunity to deliver your homily in what I would call “Protestant standard
time” instead of “Catholic fast-food time”, being able to go into matters in
more depth). I also got him a subscription to First Things Magazine, a journal that has had a guiding influence
on my life of thought for the past 20 years. The agreements we have—my dad, the
writers of First Things, and me—on
matters of religion and culture and public policy have brought my dad and I
together more closely than any argument. The other thing was the St. Patrick’s
library; I am by nature a reader and having resources nearby was quite helpful.
I think I still have a copy of something I picked up there on the biblical foundation
of the Catholic Church.
My wife and her family were tremendous
encouragements as we explored the possibility of training and preparation to
serve as a deacon in the Church, and the priests at St. Patrick
enthusiastically supported my candidacy. I think it was their vision that there
was still something left in the tank that rekindled my vision. It would take 5 more
years of difficult study and formation, but sharing the learning and growth
together with my wife made the challenges easier to face. There was a lot to
“unlearn” as well, as the formation process challenged my preconceived notions
about the Scriptures, the church, and how much I really knew about ministry.
This biblical scholar had to learn that the ministry is about service to people,
being tender, and washing the feet of many, instead of prattling on about what
some work means in Greek or Hebrew. That distance from head to heart can be a
million miles, and it might take decades to travel.
But God is merciful and patient, abiding in hesed—abiding in steadfast love and loyalty. In June of 2011, I was ordained as a deacon in the Catholic Church. God had not only led me home, but He had also placed upon me a wonderful and humbling ministry. After all the mistakes and failures, no human agency would (or should) have trusted me with such a task—and every day I am reminded that I am not its equal.
But God is merciful and patient, abiding in hesed—abiding in steadfast love and loyalty. In June of 2011, I was ordained as a deacon in the Catholic Church. God had not only led me home, but He had also placed upon me a wonderful and humbling ministry. After all the mistakes and failures, no human agency would (or should) have trusted me with such a task—and every day I am reminded that I am not its equal.
Without Mary’s encouragement, I never would
have made it. I found family and relatives who had been alienated by my
Protestant bible-thumping now quietly encouraging our progress. I am grateful
to Bishop Sheridan of the Diocese of Colorado Springs, who not only had a
vision for my service, but who ordained and continues to encourage me as a
deacon. It is also humbling to be a part of the Permanent Diaconate Formation
Program in our diocese, serving as an instructor in the Sacred Scripture
classes that the candidates and their wives receive. Our formation director,
Fr. Larry Brennan, has been a genuine vessel of grace. Every time I have
reflected on just why I should not be in this position of great trust as a
teacher, teaching our future deacons, he said “Rick, sometimes people who come
back have a better appreciation than those who never left,” and he models what
grace in action is all about. His love for the Catechism—it is the heart and
should of our formation program—has inspired a greater love and respect for
this treasure of teaching that we have been given. While I’m not sure about my
understanding all the time, there is a great deal of gratitude for this blessed
opportunity. In addition to my liturgical service as a deacon at Our Lady of
the Pines, it has been a singular honor to be able to deliver the homilies and
teach there, too. The parish members have been patient with me as I figured out
that Protestant sermons and Catholic homilies are generally quite different
(especially in length!). Every now and then, someone will even say “Amen”
during a homily, which I appreciate and grew up with. We’ve reached a happy
compromise (for most parishioners, I think), and they have come to love our
Sunday Sacred Scripture classes, nudged between the 8am and 10:30am masses.
Imagine that, “Sunday School” in a Catholic Church!
God continues to show us new opportunities
for service, and our eventual desire is to serve full time as a parish
administrator and deacon once I get off the technology management rat race.
What once seemed to be only a series of closed doors has been transformed into
a wide variety of opportunities and blessings. My wife Mary and I wake up each
day more in love than ever; we have the joy of having her father, Norman,
living with us, and our participation in all the church activities is a shared
joy. Being at church events, writing books and articles, leading retreats,
giving presentations and other teaching opportunities, parish missions, and
outreach efforts to my Separated Brothers seem to take up every moment we can
find. God has truly healed the pain and bitterness of failure, and replaced it
with the confidence of knowing that His grace has indeed been poured out on my
life. What had been meant for evil, God has truly turned around for good.
On this feast day when we celebrate the
influence of a mother on the spiritual life of a son, I thank God for all those
who have been “mothers” and “fathers” in the faith to me, and I wish you every
blessing in Christ. Thank you for this opportunity.
On the Feast of St. Monica
August 27, 2013
Black Forest, Colorado
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