Carson Weber

Today, I was confirmed into the Holy Catholic and Apostolic Church. It wasn’t easy. Honestly, it was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. When people like Keith Nester, John Bergsma, or Scott Hahn say many converts “come into the Church kicking and screaming,” they aren’t joking. I grew up in an evangelical/Reformed world where some sermons were solid, and others felt like they were stitched together by proof-texting verses to support a particular message. At the time, I accepted a lot of the anti-Catholic ideas like, the whore of Babylon, the church of Antichrist, and all the usual claims. But even when I believed those things, something in me always felt… unsatisfied. It was like an itch I couldn’t scratch, a thirst I couldn’t quench, a hunger I couldn’t satisfy. And because of that, I wandered, spiritually, like Israel in the desert, searching for a home. Every new church required reading the mission statement to make sure it aligned morally with Scripture, especially on issues where the wider Protestant world was deeply divided. Despite hearing, “We’re all unified in Christ,” it was painfully clear that the teachings were anything but unified. I must have visited nearly every church in the Phoenix area, and yet that spiritual thirst remained. And when the soul is starving, it begins to look elsewhere. Sin becomes tempting, like an apple hanging from a tree, bright and perfect on the outside, but turning to ash and vinegar the moment you bite into it. And sadly I found myself there ALOT. As I dug deeper into my faith, I asked myself: Would a loving, all-knowing God really leave us wandering spiritually homeless, trying to piece together truth on our own? The idea of an “invisible church of visible members” never made sense. And in every debate I watched, the Catholic side didn’t just argue well, they argued coherently, biblically, and historically. Everything changed the night I attended a Midnight Mass on Christmas. The liturgy, the incense, the music, the Scripture readings, the reverence, it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. It washed over me with a sense of peace and belonging, a feeling I had never experienced in worship before. It felt exactly like coming home. It was like the Father in the parable of the prodigal son. Running toward me, arms open, patiently waiting for me to return. In that moment, something deep in my soul whispered: This is it. This is the Church. As I read the Church Fathers and studied history, I realized the Church Christ founded was not a tiny mustard seed lost to time, but a towering mustard tree, ancient, rooted, full of saints and sinners, good popes and bad popes, and yet unchanged in the faith it has carried for 2,000 years. Today, before entering the confessional for the first time, I understood why many leave the Church or fear entering it: because holiness is hard. Walking into that confessional was humbling. It exposed how far I had fallen from grace, but also how deeply God longs to draw us close. And when I walked out, went through the Mass, and received the Eucharist for the first time, the priest’s words pierced me: “Peace I leave you, my peace I give you… look not on our sins, but on the faith of Your Church.” At that moment, I felt the peace, unity, and love Christ gives through His Church. I saw how the Holy Spirit had been working through so many people, apologists, friends, Bible study discussions, debates, all planting seeds like patient gardeners for the Lord. If you’re reading this, I want to extend the same welcome, kindness, and embrace that the Church extended to me. Please, come to Mass. Experience the liturgy. It is truly heaven on earth. And I pray that one day, you, too, will find your way home. God bless.