I've been part of Saint Williams Youth Ministry (SWYM) for the last nine years. Man, does time fly.
Witnessing Christ to teens is part of the family biz. My mom was a youth minister, and so was my Tia Laura for years.
Back in August of 2013, I was going through my conversion process.
See, I was a CINO, a Catholic in Name Only.
I was baptized as a baby.
At eight, when I learned I got presents for saying the bread held up at Mass was the Body of Christ, I made my First Holy Communion. I got a good haul of gifts.
Then I hit a snag in my journey with Christ in High School.
The heady reason was that I joined the high school debate team. So I was exposed to the Enlightenment philosophers like Nietzsche, who famously quipped, "God is dead." Arguing God was dead fit my argumentative mood at the time.
The real reason I left was that, at sixteen, I wanted to drink beer and get laid. Jesus was blocking me from doing both. So I renounced religion.
I did drink a lot but didn't get laid as much as I thought, being an atheist. It turns out my game was weak, and Jesus had nothing to do with it.
I didn't last long as an atheist. I could never get past the idea that there had to be something bigger out there that created my reality.
For better or worse, Catholicism was convenient. It's what I knew.
I made my Confirmation as an adult because I thought I would be getting married through the Church. Confirmation was the second to the last box available to get my soul to heaven: marriage. I figured God would take care of that in time unless Holy Orders were on the table.
I was culturally Catholic for years.
I'd go to Mass occasionally. I went to confession every blue moon and prayed when every so often.
Then I met Lucy.
Lucy is a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints and wasn't open to converting.
Still, we both agreed faith was significant in child-rearing and important for Marcos to have some faith formation.
So I ended up going to services with her and Marcos early in our marriage.
Latter-Day Saints are a friendly lot. There isn't a group of good, wholesome people on the planet.
Going to their three-hour Sunday marathon went on for a while until I sat in what they call a Priesthood meeting and heard that Mormons believed God was once a man.
My mind, body, and soul went into open revolt. As nice as Mormons are, their theology is quirky.
As a response, I threw myself into Catholicism.
I had one problem: I had never encountered Christ.
Hang around some commuted Catholics long enough, and they yammer on how they encountered Christ.
I had no clue what they were talking about until I had what I call a waking dream and encountered the living God, Jesus Christ. And yes, I was stone cold sober.
That encounter set my life up for the last ten years.
Shortly after that, as I sat at my desk at work, I got what I can only describe as the ping.
The ping was this idea to go into youth ministry, followed by a feeling that said, Andrew, it's already been decided, "go" sort of voice. The ping felt like an annoying kid poking me in the shoulder while begging for my attention.
The more I fought it; the more annoying the ping would get.
The ping consumed a forty-five-minute commute home.
It kept going as I drove into Saint William's parking lot.
And it didn't stop until I stuck out my hand and shook the Youth Director's hand.
That was nine years ago this month.