Forty years ago I ascended the steps of a Catholic convent and began six years of being a nun. As I passed between the huge marble pillars, they seemed to represent not only my idealism but also the rigidity of my beliefs. At 18 years old, I was there to serve God — but I also felt it was the only way I was ever going to be good enough to please God.

My standard for what nuns should be like was very high. They should keep all the rules, be very pious, be kind and never have a bad thought. No one measured up to what I thought a good nun should be … and neither did I! I was intent on keeping the law of God and the law of the church, but it seemed that if I kept one rule I broke another. I was constantly failing. There were too many hoops to jump through to please the Taskmaster, God (at least that was how I viewed Him), and I knew I would always fall short. I was disillusioned and realized I was far from becoming perfect. I started to rebel. Being good wasn’t working for me.

When I left the convent after six years, I deteriorated into a life of sin. The tawdry details would probably make a best seller. Since I couldn’t be perfect, which is what I thought it would take to get into heaven, I decided to be bad. I felt very distant from God.

My husband, Bill, and I met in a bar two years after I left the convent. (To this day, whenever we are at social gatherings, my husband likes to start conversations with, “Nancy used to be a nun, and we met in a bar.”) Bill claimed his denomination was “barbarian,” and I was very content not to have God in my life. Since I didn’t have to try to be good anymore, I was relieved.

Shortly after we married, I got pregnant. It started to matter that God was not a part of our lives. It seemed something was missing, and I couldn’t imagine raising a child without a basis of faith. 

Our son was 18 months old when we moved into a new neighborhood. Our neighbors went to church, but more than just going to church, this neighbor woman was different. When we talked, she would tell me things about their sermons, or she would be singing a song. She didn’t talk about rules she had to follow but about the words of Jesus and answered prayer. They seemed so happy. I asked a lot of questions. I wanted what she had — a joy in her relationship with God. On Easter we decided to go to their church. I was afraid I would get struck by lightning for going into a Protestant church. No pews, no tabernacle, no genuflections, no confessional: I was definitely out of my element. (My husband, on the other hand, seemed very happy.)

The sermon started. It was about getting to heaven. Now, remember, I thought I had to be perfect, which created a great burden on me. One verse quoted was Romans 3:20: “No one can ever be made right in God’s sight by doing what his law commands. For the more we know God’s law, the clearer it becomes that we are not obeying it” (NLT). That was my situation!

Another verse in the sermon was Ephesians 2:8-9: “For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith — and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God — not by works, so that no one can boast” (italics mine). It was the last part of the verse that got to me. How could this be a free gift when I had been working so hard to get it?

Convinced that this was something made up by the Protestants, I went home and read my Catholic Living Bible. I found the same verses! I also found Romans 10:9, which says, “If you confess with your mouth, ‘Jesus is Lord,’ and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved.” That’s it! That was all I needed. I said it out loud. I asked for forgiveness of my sins and asked God to come into my heart in a new way. The Scriptures came alive to me, and I began a personal relationship with God like I had never had before. He was transformed in my mind from judging and fearful to loving and kind. From that moment on I couldn’t put the Bible down.

When I found Romans 8:1, “Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus” (italics mine), I felt like a backpack of bricks had been removed from my shoulders. I found unexplainable joy and a constant sense of God’s presence. No matter what happens in life — I know I am loved.

So it was a matter of a relationship with God and not a matter of being Catholic or not Catholic. While I could not live up to what I thought the church expected of me, I could live in the forgiveness and righteousness of Jesus Christ. It no longer mattered what church I went to — my heart was His.

Being a Catholic is no different from being raised in any other organized religion. If we just “go to church” and don’t have an understanding of who Jesus is and how much He loves us, then we are missing the mark. I didn’t blame the Catholic Church for my lack of relationship with God. It took the Holy Spirit to show it to me. After all, the verses were right there in the Catholic Bible.

My husband was also growing spiritually and understanding the same things. God had really transformed him too. 

From being a nun to hanging out in bars to being led to the foot of the cross — 20 years have gone by. His mercies are new every morning. God continues to help us grow. And now my children are grown and are maturing Christians as well.