My father is a retired Assemblies of God pastor. My parents had a deep and abiding love for Jesus Christ. Their lives expressed who Christ was.
I vividly remember being awakened in the middle of the night by the sound of their prayers, praying for every person in their church. Yet my parents never spoke in derogatory terms about anyone, Catholics included, but many of the ministers I came in contact with were not so generous. I heard more than one preacher expound on the demon of Catholicism. Many claimed that the Catholic Church was the great whore of Babylon and the Pope the Antichrist. I was in my “thirties” and an ordained Methodist minister before I met my first nun: Sister Monica Marie. Joetta had taught with her at Ursuline Academy in Dallas, Texas. It was through Sister Monica Marie that Joetta experienced a dynamic encounter with the Holy Spirit. To my surprise, I discovered that Sister was truly a woman of God. My heart was set aflame just by being in her presence. She was the complete opposite of everything I had imagined nuns must be.
My first contact with a priest came two years ago. While working on my doctorate at Oral Roberts University, I met Father Amalor Vima from India. As classmates we spent a good deal of time together and became close friends. It was in this setting that something happened that would revolutionize my life forever. During a moment of reflection in one of our sessions, Selmar Ouavo, a Methodist bishop from Brazil, stood up and said: “In my country, as a Protestant, I am the minority. Unfortunately, there is much animosity between my church and the Catholic Church. Many of my people are filled with hatred toward all Catholics. Yet here, Father Vima is the minority, and I have seen nothing in his life but love for Jesus.” With tears rolling down his face he said: “Father Vima, I want you to forgive me.”
I watched those two men of God embrace. There was not a dry eye in the room. In that small moment my mind began to see a new possibility—Protestants and Catholics all over the world united, embracing in love, and falling on their knees in prayer.
In this simple act, Selmar Ouavo challenged us all to become Ministers of Reconciliation. My thoughts raced. “Imagine what the Holy Spirit could do if Catholics and Protestants were one.” The words of Jesus flashed through my mind: “So if you are offering your gift at the altar, and there remember that your brother has something against you, leave your gift there before the altar and go; first be reconciled to your brother, and then come and offer your gift” (Matt 5:23-24). As I watched the scene unfold, I could almost hear Jesus praying: “That they may all be one, Father . . . so that the world may believe that thou hast sent me” (John 17:21). I knew at that moment that I was to be a Minister of Reconciliation.
Years earlier, Joetta and I had pastored a Southern Baptist church in Tulsa, Oklahoma. After the service one day, a woman approached Joetta and asked if she would pray for her daughter, Regan. She did not, however, want to disclose the specific prayer need. Joetta assured her that it was not necessary to know the need, because the Holy Spirit could intercede for Regan. For the entire next year, Joetta prayed faithfully for a young lady she had never met.
At the time, Joetta was working as a technical writer for Thrifty Rent-a-Car. One day her boss informed her that he had hired a new software trainer who would be placed in an office across from Joetta’s. Joetta was asked to make her feel welcome and show her around. When the new trainer arrived, she introduced herself as Regan. To Joetta’s surprise, this was the young lady she had been praying for all those months! God was definitely up to something. Joetta and Regan worked as associates for the next seven years. They never socialized outside the workplace, yet they began to develop a close relationship.
One day in 1995, Regan shared that she and her husband were having problems in their marriage. Kelvin was a Roman Catholic and she was a Southern Baptist. For many years Regan attended the Catholic Church with Kelvin, and yet he did not feel comfortable in the Baptist church he attended with Regan on special occasions. This arrangement worked until they had children and realized how strongly each of them felt about how their children should be raised.
To Regan’s dismay, Kelvin stood firm about baptizing and raising their children in the Catholic Church. They were at an impasse when Regan sought Joetta’s advice.
Joetta told Regan that a house divided cannot stand, and that it was essential for them to be in one church together. Joetta suggested that if her husband would not go to church with her, she should go to church with him. God would bless their marriage if Regan submitted to her husband’s spiritual authority. Joetta told Regan about some classes offered by the Catholic Church that she could attend, with no obligation, to learn about the Catholic faith. Joetta told her: “If I were you, I would want to know what my children are going to be taught, so I could combat any incorrect teaching.” To give Regan peace of mind, Joetta said, “Attend the program, bring me all the material, and I will give it to Larry so he can review it and see whether it lines up with the Bible.”
I never paid any attention to the material Regan brought to Joetta, except for two things. One was an article by a Lutheran journalist discussing the Marian apparitions. The author of the article had spoken at Regan’s church and told them how the Mother of God had been appearing to six children daily since 1981. Regan was very intrigued and read everything she could get her hands on. The second thing she gave us was a cassette tape of a woman who had been miraculously healed at the apparition site. This woman, at best a nominal Christian, was so impacted by the experience that she gave her life over to the service of Christ. I took these articles and started to throw them away.
Instead, on a whim, I stuffed them into a drawer.
One week before May 25, 1996, Regan told Joetta that she was going to attend a Marian conference in Wichita, Kansas. She was really excited because both the author of the article and the woman who had been healed were scheduled speakers. Regan, however, was troubled by a prayer she had received in the pre-conference material, which was supposed to be prayed at the conference. “I would like,” she told Joetta, “for you and Larry to look it over and tell me what you think.” When Joetta read the prayer, all kinds of red flags went up. In almost a state of panic, she handed me the prayer. It was the Consecration to the Immaculate Heart of Mary. As I began to read the prayer, the hair on the back of my neck stood up. “Immaculate Heart of Mary, I consecrate to you my body and soul . . .” I stopped in the middle of the prayer. Rage filled my heart. This prayer is demonic! I said: “You don’t give your soul to anyone but Jesus. Tell Regan she can go to the conference, but whatever she does, she must not pray that prayer!” Within three days, something deep within my spirit told me I had made a terrible mistake. My soul was flooded with remorse over what I had said.
I decided to take a copy of the prayer to Father Vima. “I don’t understand this prayer,” I said. “How in the world can you give yourself to Mary in this way?” With a twinkle in his eye, Father Vima gently said to me: “Larry, have you ever held Joetta in your arms and told her, ‘I love you, I adore you, I worship the ground you walk on’?” “Yes,” I answered cautiously. “Have you looked lovingly into her eyes and assured her of your complete love and devotion? Have you said words like, ‘I am completely yours, now and forever’? ‘All that I am and all that I hope to be I owe to you’?” I was beginning to get the point. “Yes,” I admitted, “I have used exactly those words.”
“We Catholics,” he continued, “would never say to Mary, ‘We adore you.’ We venerate her. We honor her. But we could never say ‘we adore you,’ because adoration is reserved for God alone. That is something we give only to Jesus. Him we adore. He is the King of Kings and Lord of Lords, and there is no one equal to Him. We believe that Mary, as the Mother of God, loves us and cares for us. What we are saying in the prayer is: ‘All that is mine I place in your hands, and I ask you to lead me to your Son, Jesus.’ Mary always leads us to Jesus.”
As I listened to Father Vima, I began to realize how wrong I had been. Two emotions swept over me at the same time: shame and joy. Shame at my hasty judgment, and joy at the possibilities that were opening up before me.
I went home and found the Marian newspaper. I had put it in a drawer of my dresser, and I began to read it. As I read what Mary was reported to be saying, I was struck by how biblically based her messages were: PRAYER, REPENTANCE, FASTING, CONVERSION OF YOUR LIFE TO CHRIST. This was obviously not the work of Satan. I wondered greatly: ‘Could this be the Mother of God?’ If it was, what she was saying was important and worthy of our consideration. One of her most frequent statements was somewhat puzzling: “Pray the Rosary every day.” Joetta and I knew nothing about the Rosary. Perhaps it was time to find out what this prayer was all about.
Since Regan would be attending the Marian conference, Joetta gave her some money to buy a Rosary. Their relationship had grown strained and emotionally charged over Mary, and Joetta felt that if she let Regan show her how to count the beads of the Rosary, it would at least keep them talking. When Regan gave Joetta her Rosary, she said: “The great thing is that the man who made this Rosary lives just outside Tulsa, in Claremore, Oklahoma. If you have any problem with the Rosary, it’s guaranteed.”
The more Joetta looked at her Rosary, the less she liked the centerpiece. “This looks like an idol. I think I’ll call Two Hearts Rosaries and see if they can exchange it for another one.”
“Come on out,” the voice on the other end of the line said. “Bob’s work is guaranteed, and he’ll be happy to replace it with something you like.” When we arrived, Bob’s wife, Johanna, asked Joetta what was wrong with the Rosary. “It’s the centerpiece,” Joetta told her. “I don’t like the centerpiece.” Johanna gave her a puzzled look. “What don’t you like about it?” “Well, it just looks so, you know, Catholic!”
“The Rosary,” Johanna smiled, “is Catholic!” While Joetta was looking at centerpieces, Bob was telling me what had happened to them on a pilgrimage to an apparition site in Europe. I called out to Joetta, “Come over here and listen to this. You’re not going to believe this story!” They were the first Catholics we had spent any real time with, after Sister Monica Marie and Father Vima.
Bob shared with us how God, through Mary, had transformed their lives. As he told his story, tears rolled down his face. He said he had not stopped crying since he returned from his pilgrimage. In his words, his heart had been “softened.” After they returned, Bob quit his job at Amoco. He was a lab technician and had been with the company for more than 21 years. Not long after that, Johanna quit her job at the University of Tulsa. God was calling them to complete obedience and dependence on Him.
During this time, Bob met a nun who showed him how to make Rosaries. Bob decided to make two Rosaries: one to thank Mary for leading him to Jesus, and another to thank Jesus for saving his soul. The rest is history. All of Bob’s Rosaries are lovingly handmade. He looks at each bead as a prayer sent to Mary to convert souls and draw them to Jesus. My conversion and Joetta’s are the direct result of those prayers.
After our encounter with Bob and Johanna, I was emotionally shaken. As we drove home, neither of us said a word. It was as if we had both experienced an epiphany. I can’t explain it. I felt as though I had been in the presence of Jesus. Not wanting to go straight home, I pulled into Taco Bueno to get something to drink. As we sat there looking at each other, tears began to roll down our faces. What was happening to us? What was God asking of us?
Our lives were literally being propelled toward the Catholic Church. Regan had introduced us to the owners of the local Catholic bookstore, so we decided to go there for more information. Lee and Anita lovingly welcomed us and pointed us to exactly what we needed. When we figured our income tax at the end of the year, we discovered we had spent more than $5,000 on books, tapes, videos, and other materials in search of spiritual truths! It wasn’t enough. We were in Lee’s store three or four times a day. “We’re here for our Catholic supplies!” Lee and Anita could only laugh and recommend another book, tape, or video. It was like an addiction we couldn’t satisfy. One question only led us to another, and then another. It was a marvelous experience.
We began going to bed late and getting up early, trying to cram in as much reading as we possibly could during the day. We decided to maximize our time. I began dropping Joetta off at work and picking her up so we could read aloud on the way there and back. I would pick her up at lunchtime, put a couple of lawn chairs and TV trays in the trunk, and drive to the park so we could read without interruption. We took turns—one of us would eat while the other read aloud. We did everything together. God was graciously speaking to both of us together, drawing us at the same pace ever deeper into Himself.
We read the Catechism from cover to cover. The Catechism is the greatest work of systematic theology we have ever read. Answers to long-searched-for questions came pouring down on us like a torrential rain.
I remember one Saturday morning in particular. We both woke up at 4 a.m. We sat in bed with the Bible in one hand and the Catechism in the other. I said: “Joetta, listen to this. This is fantastic. This brings everything into focus!” Before I could finish, Joetta interrupted me and said, “Larry, wait, wait. Listen to this!” She then read from a different section of the Catechism. We would read the Scripture proof texts, go to the writings of the early Church Fathers, and then check a commentary. Before we knew it, it was one in the afternoon! We were like sponges. On issues such as the real presence of Christ in the bread and wine, the role of Mary in the Church, prayers to the saints, Scripture and Tradition as authority versus Sola Scriptura, papal authority, Purgatory, and salvation as a process versus salvation as a finished work, we began to see a new light. It was like finding all the missing pieces of a great theological jigsaw puzzle. The whole picture was becoming clear.
The Lord was leading us down two paths simultaneously: one intellectual and the other emotional. We had been praying the Rosary, parking ourselves on Bob and Johanna’s couch, asking question after question about Catholic doctrine, tradition, and culture. We asked the Lord to reveal something to us if He was leading us to the Catholic Church, because none of this made any sense to us. We had been in Protestant churches all our lives and were quite content in our ministry. We desperately needed to know about the Church to which God was calling us, so three short weeks before our conversion I prayed this prayer:
“Father, if you are drawing us to the Catholic Church, I want a sign, and I want it big.”
Several days later, we were returning home from a short trip to Dallas. We saw the biggest, most vivid sunset anyone has ever seen. It stretched from horizon to horizon, and it seemed we were driving right into it. An indescribable array of colors—orange, red, pink. It was magnificent, so much so that our young grandson, who had been sleeping in the back, sat up and said: “Grandpa, Grandpa, do you see that? Isn’t it beautiful?” We could look straight at it, as brilliant as it was.
When the sun went down, we put in a tape by Dr. Scott Hahn and continued on toward Oklahoma City. As I looked up at the dark sky, I prayed silently once more: “O God, if you are drawing us to the Catholic Church, give us a sign, and please make it big!”
At the same time, unbeknownst to me, Joetta was staring out the passenger window, silently praying: “Blessed Mother, if you are real, we need to know it beyond any doubt.” Suddenly, I heard Joetta say with a catch in her voice: “Oh my, Larry, Larry, look!” When I looked to the right, I saw what appeared to be a chain of stars falling in slow motion, angling downward from right to left. Just before the stars touched the horizon, they shot back up and then fell toward the earth again, dropping straight into the center of the highway. Usually a shooting star darts down and moves so quickly that you don’t have time to tell anyone. We were left speechless, because we had both seen it! Finally Joetta broke the silence: “You saw that, didn’t you?” We were both visibly moved.
I put in a tape by the Catholic singer Dana on which she sings the Rosary, and for the next hour and a half we prayed the Rosary along with her. We finished just as we reached the highway exit that leads to our rectory. As we turned off the freeway and headed over a small hill, there, perched on the road in front of us, was the most enormous, beautiful moon we had ever seen. Like the sunset, it seemed to be literally sitting in the middle of the road, stretching as high into the sky as the sky could reach. For two and a half miles we watched it in complete silence.
When we turned into our driveway, the moon disappeared. “Joetta, what does all this remind you of?” “Revelation, Chapter 12,” she said: “A great portent appeared in heaven, a woman clothed with the sun, with the moon under her feet, and on her head a crown of twelve stars.” At that moment we knew that not only was the Holy Spirit leading us to the Catholic Church—Mary was leading the way.
Two months later, Joetta and I knelt in a small chapel on the University of Tulsa campus and prayed the Consecration to the Immaculate Heart of Mary. Our love for her is boundless. I had been afraid that she might somehow draw me away from my love for Jesus, but what I have found is that my love for Christ has deepened beyond measure. Truly, our cup overflows!
On September 12, 1997, I turned in my ordination papers to Bishop Bruce Blake of the United Methodist Church. In doing so, I walked away from 30 years of Protestant ministry to become a Catholic. To many of my colleagues this was a horrible mistake, but for Joetta and me it was “MY JOURNEY HOME.”
In January we made a pilgrimage to Rome to symbolize our desire to place ourselves under the authority of Pope John Paul II and the Catholic Church. In March, Joetta and I made a pilgrimage to a Marian site in Eastern Europe to thank the Blessed Mother for bringing us into the Church. We are now waiting with great anticipation to be received into full communion with the Catholic Church this coming Easter Vigil. It will be the culmination of a 23-month odyssey that has transformed our lives. Thank you, Mary, for wanting us home.
(Larry Lewis holds a Master of Divinity from Phillips Theological Seminary and is a doctoral candidate at Oral Roberts University, where his research focuses on Catholic apologetics. The Lewises have three married daughters and five grandchildren.)
Author: Larry and Joetta Lewis
