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A Deeper Look at Our Conversion Stories

Marcus and Marilyn Grodi |
Conversion Stories, Lutheran, Presbyterian & Reformed | 19 Comments

Becoming Catholic was never my dream or intent. It is still an all too vivid memory to me, sitting alone at age 40 in a half-lit basement, having resigned from the pastorate. I ached for having abandoned the weekly privilege of a pulpit from which to proclaim God’s truth. Would I ever have this privilege again? Will I ever again have a pulpit? Now they estimate that each week from the “pulpit” of The Journey Home television program I speak to a potential audience of over a billion viewers and listeners. In one night I speak to more people than I ever could have in my entire career as a Protestant minister. This is the humor of our merciful God. Before I converted I had no idea whatsoever how I would support my family let alone how I would continue in ministry. But this is getting way ahead of myself.

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More Than Enough

Kathy McDonald |
Conversion Stories, Lutheran | 24 Comments

Our third son was 10 days old on “Reformation Sunday” 1998. The preacher that Sunday at the local Lutheran church we attended was a retired Lutheran school principal, a man in his 70s with a great shock of white hair. He ascended the pulpit and held up a book, a book he proclaimed “the work of the devil!” The book was by a Catholic author on justification. The preacher offered this book as evidence that “the Reformation must go on!” To me, he came across as so angry and fearful, so unreasonably opposed to the Catholic author, that I leaned over and whispered to my husband, Joe, and said “Sounds like a book we ought to read.”

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Two Journeys, One Destination — The Story of a Husband-and-Wife Pastor Team

Richard and Ruth Ballard |
Baptist, Conversion Stories, Lutheran, Military | 3 Comments

Ruth: That Good Friday, I carefully took out white construction paper and the big, thick crayons that normally were reserved for my coloring books. Slowly, and very deliberately, I drew three crosses, the middle one in red. I don’t know how long I sat there, but I remember talking to Jesus in my own child-like way. That is my first memory of prayer or any understanding, however rudimentary, of Christ’s sacrifice on the cross for the sins of the world. I was a preschooler, not yet attending kindergarten, but this memory is still so vivid and detailed that it doesn’t seem that almost fifty years have passed.

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