The Way is Shut

“The way is shut. It was made by those who are dead, and the dead keep it. The way is shut."

--J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings

Some days I think I know where I'm going:  the path before me seems to unfold almost miraculously and I explain to myself that I'd be a fool not to see the hand of God in all the twists and turns and coincidences that are too coincidental to be coincidences.  Some days it seems that the heavens open up and God drops a neon arrow in my path that says, very clearly, "This way, please."

And then there are days like today, nights like tonight.  Days when I cannot see the path no matter how I squint; nights when I'm not even sure I'm in the remote vicinity of a path but fear that I've instead wandered off into the briars and the tangles.  Nights when I stumble blindly on, hands outstretched, only to bump into the cold steel of a chained gate.

Let me back up:  for two years I've seen the way before me open up in miraculous ways and I've come to believe that God is leading me to the Catholic Church.  This makes many of my non-Catholic friends roll their eyes, huff a little, and probably click off this blog and navigate to something that makes them less angry or frustrated.  Yet, while I know this personal journey of mine has been publicized (by me) far too loudly and far too often, it's only because it's hard to constrain the joy and excitement and terror I feel as I watch God's hand move in my life.  

This moving is more clear to me than anything else I've ever experienced.  It's not quantifiable, provable, or even visible.  Instead, it's everything a journey of faith should be:  terrifying, dangerous, seemingly insane, full of promise.  In fact, I feel like a miniature, much less epic, version of Abraham.  It's almost as if I've heard this booming voice saying "get up and go to this crazy land of incense and genuflections and statues and 1 million other weird and unusual things."  (To be clear--and in the interest of full disclosure--I've heard no such voice:  it's just a leading that I can't explain any other way.)

And, moving on, I'm trying to be obedient to that leading, but it's not easy:  The Catholic World, after all, is profoundly different from anything this American Protestant has ever experienced.  And yet, over time, as I've come to better understand the weird things, the unusual things, the seemingly unexplainable things, I've begun to find something I never thought I'd find:  true faith and, even more importantly, a a deeper, more personal relationship with Christ than I've ever experienced.

God has clearly been a part of this journey.  His fingerprints are all over it.

But, there's a problem--a problem that clouds everything and brings me back to the darker beginning to this entry:  my wife is neither so inclined, nor so excited, nor so happy.  Her Catholic journey, in fact, seems destined to be much, much shorter than mine.  Whereas I've been drawn to the Catholic Church, she's drawn back to our previous life of Protestantism.  We are both heading in opposite directions and neither one sees how it's possible to reverse our path and go the other's way.

And that's tough to deal with because I know that my journey--as exciting as it is for me--is breaking her heart.  She doesn't want to come with me and yet, neither does she want our family to attend different churches.

Which brings me to the next big complication:  our kids.  All five of them.  What will we do with them?  Do we let them decide on their own? (Many folks on both sides say that's the right thing to do--but I will not simply turn two 11 year-olds, an 8 year-old, a 7 year-old and a 4 year-old loose in the world of theology, suggesting that they "choose for themselves."  That day will come.  But now, I, as a parent, must train.  Yes, it's politically incorrect, yes, it's old school...but you will not change my mind.  It's my responsibility as a father.) 

So, I can let them choose on their own (which I can't do--not at this age), or we could raise them in both churches and confuse them beyond words.

For me, that's not an option either, because I don't just "like" Catholicism better than Protestantism.  It's not about music or styles of worship or the cool little donuts they serve after Mass.  I'm moving toward Catholicism simply because I believe it's the Truth. (And I know this makes my Protestant friends family members angry, but it really shouldn't.  To hopefully defuse any anger, let me ask a question:  why do you remain Protestant?  Why don't you go to the Catholic Church instead from time to time?  The most basic answer is because you don't believe it to be true.  You think, instead, that Protestantism is true and so you stay there.  I on the other hand, believe Catholicism to be True and must go there.  So don't be angry when I say I think Catholicism is true.  I'd be a fool to pursue something this disruptive to my life if I didn't fully believe it to be the truth.)

Anyway, I want to raise my kids Catholic because I believe it's the Truth.   My wife, on the other hand, has different ideas.  Hence the confusion.  Hence the clouded path.  Hence the darkness.  

As a couple, we are at a loss.  We're not angry with each other, we're not dueling.  We're getting along as well as we ever have.  But there's a sadness and a confusion that hangs over everything.

What do I do?  As a father, do I lead even where my family doesn't want to go?  Or do  I step back and let them lead?  Or, do we just "agree to disagree" and each go our own separate ways in regards to our faiths?  And how does that play out for the kids, for us?

The good news is that as dark as this all is . . . it's God's plan.  And when we follow the path to its natural end, we'll be thankful for the journey.  The suffering along the way has value and, when we arrive at journey's end, we'll rejoice in the land He's brought us to. 

But that's somewhere down the road.  First, we've got to get there.  And that means walking.  And right now, we're not sure where to put the next foot. For right now, we're lost.  Tonight we're looking for a path.  We're looking for a way.  The Way. 

But it's shut.