26 Reasons I Fell In Love With the Catholic Church

A new convert recounts his path from evangelicalism, through atheism and occultism, to ultimately finding his true home in the Catholic Faith.

1. Approach to Scripture

The Catholic approach to Scripture has been a breath of fresh air for me. I grew up in a Southern Baptist, evangelical fundamentalist background, where the Bible was seen as the inerrant, inspired Word of God. Everything had to be taken literally in that tradition. When I deconverted to atheism in high school and my 20s, deconstructing that biblical literalism was a big part of my journey. The strict literal approach created intellectual and moral problems for me.

For example, atheists often point to Old Testament passages—like God commanding the Israelites to wipe out the Canaanites, including women and children—to argue that the biblical God can’t be all-good. In the fundamentalist tradition I came from, you had to 'bite the bullet' and accept it as literal history, with no theological or allegorical wiggle room. That was tough to reconcile.

But the Catholic approach is different, as I’ve learned from figures like Bishop Robert Barron. Catholic theologians use multiple interpretive layers. There’s a literal, historical layer—much of the Bible is historically accurate—but there are also typological, allegorical, and theological lenses. So, the command to wipe out the Canaanites doesn’t have to be dogmatically literal. It can be seen symbolically—like the Canaanites representing sin or humanity’s fallen state, with the Israelites’ actions symbolizing the triumph over that sinfulness, or as a symbol of God’s covenant with Israel. This flexibility gives Catholic theology more tools to address atheist critiques that target literalism.

Take Bart Ehrman, for instance. He’s a scholar who attacks the Bible’s historical reliability, often based on his own fundamentalist evangelical background. In a debate with Catholic apologist Jimmy Akin about the reliability of the Gospels, Ehrman zoomed in on tiny discrepancies—like one Gospel saying a minor detail happened one way, while another says it differently. To him, these contradictions disprove the Bible’s perfection. But Akin took a broader view: the Gospels are generally reliable, capturing the big picture accurately, without requiring every single word to be taken as a video recorder level of historical detail. The Catholic approach doesn’t demand that kind of rigid literalism.

From what I understand (and correct me if I’m wrong, Catholics out there), the Catholic view of inerrancy is that the Scripture is free from error insofar as every word was inspired by the Holy Spirit but that doesn’t thereby entail that every authorial intention was to make a literal assertion of fact given that the conventions of history writing themselves are culturally specific. As Jimmy Akin writes,

When we encounter something that is not being asserted, we cannot charge the sacred author with error because only assertions can be erroneous. If I’m not asserting that something is true then I am not making a claim that can be in error. The most that could be said is that what I said would be erroneous if taken as an assertion of fact.

God inspired human authors, making Him the ultimate author of Scripture, but He allowed them to use their human faculties. These authors wrote over 1,500 years, across different historical contexts, so the Bible isn’t always meant to be taken as scientific history textbook like a video recorder in the way we now understand history in a modern sense. It’s a broader project, divinely inspired to lead to Christ and the New Covenant.

In the Catholic view, Scripture is all about Christ—culminating in the Eucharist. There’s a deep Christological and Eucharistic theme running through it, true on a spiritual level that doesn’t hinge on fundamentalist literalism. That’s huge for me. It resolves so many intellectual challenges I faced as an atheist after leaving Christianity years ago. It’s a big reason why the Catholic approach feels so refreshing and satisfying.

2. The Intellectual Tradition

The Catholic Church’s rich intellectual tradition captivates me. Figures like St. Augustine and St. Thomas Aquinas—just the first names that come to mind—represent a legacy of brilliant philosophers and theologians. This history of deep thought satisfies my intellectual curiosity in ways Evangelicalism, constrained by literalism, never could. While there are smart minds in the Evangelical tradition, their efforts often seem focused on rationalizing Biblical inerrancy rather than wrestling with broader truths.

In Catholicism, intellectuals grapple with profound questions supported by 2,000 years of reasoned debate. The Catechism itself offers clear, well-defended explanations for its doctrines. This vibrant tradition of brilliant men and women thinking through faith is a major reason I’m drawn to the Church.

3. Sacred Beauty

Beauty is a huge part of why I’m drawn to the Catholic Church. In my town, there’s this stunning cathedral—it’s the most beautiful building I’ve ever stepped inside. The architecture, art, craftsmanship, and sheer sense of reverence and awe make it feel holy and special. And it’s not just this one church—Catholic churches like it exist all over the world, reflecting an incredible tradition of beauty. The impact the Church has had on art and aesthetics throughout Western civilization is mind-blowing.

For me, beauty and truth are deeply connected. The beauty of something reflects its metaphysical worldview and its underlying truth. So, it’s no surprise to me that the Catholic Church, which I see as the true Church, has inspired some of the most breathtaking artwork in history. That beauty flows from a foundation of truth.

I genuinely believe the Catholic Church has the best aesthetics of any religious tradition. Compared to what atheism, modernism, or secularism offer, it’s not even close—the aesthetics of atheism feel empty and laughable in contrast. That sense of beauty is a big reason the Catholic Church resonates with me so deeply.

4. Rich Church History

As a history enthusiast, I’m enthralled by the Catholic Church’s 2,000-year legacy. Unlike the relatively recent Southern Baptist tradition (or any other Protestant denomination), Catholicism traces its roots to Jesus and the apostles. This continuity—spanning centuries of challenges, ideologies, and attempts at disunity—offers a vast tapestry of inspiration to explore. That the Church has endured and remained unified for two millennia is astonishing and a key reason for my affection.

5. Defense of Orthodoxy

I deeply admire the Catholic Church’s commitment to orthodoxy in the face of modern liberalism. In our hyper-progressive, 'woke' culture, there’s a relentless push from society to conform to modernity. Yet, the Catholic Church stands firm as the only institution that seems capable of resisting this onslaught of liberal progressivism. It holds fast to its conservative roots, preserving its orthodoxy, dogma, and tradition.

I know there are debates within the Church—between hardcore traditionalists and those influenced by Vatican II reforms—but from what I understand, even after Vatican II, the Church has stayed true to its core moral and orthodox doctrines. Some implementations may not have gone as smoothly as hoped, but theologically, morally, and intellectually, it hasn’t wavered against cultural pressures.

You see other churches—like the Anglican Communion or the Methodist Church—facing schisms over modern issues, especially the LGBT movement. These culture war topics, like sexual ethics, family, abortion, and contraception, have caused divisions elsewhere. But the Catholic Church refuses to bend the knee to contemporary culture. It doesn’t conform just to appear enlightened or progressive, and I find that incredibly valuable.

The Church defends the eternal law of God—His unchanging normative and moral truths rooted in divine revelation. These aren’t meant to shift with every new social movement. For example, just because the LGBT movement has gained traction over the past few decades, reshaping how society views family and ethics, doesn’t mean the Church should follow suit. While other institutions bow to secular liberal pressures, the Catholic Church stands firm, interpreting culture through its timeless lens rather than letting modern perspectives redefine its doctrines. I really appreciate that steadfastness—it keeps the order of operations right, prioritizing God’s truth over cultural trends.

6. Moral Clarity

Relatedly, the Church provides moral clarity on divisive issues—abortion, contraception, LGBT rights, euthanasia, and more. Its positions rest on a robust philosophical foundation, blending Scripture, Tradition, and Divine Revelation.

This clarity is refreshing in a society swayed by cultural biases and progressive forces. It rejects the notion that we must “update” God to fit modern sensibilities, offering a timeless moral compass that I find profoundly reassuring.

7. Critique of Gender Ideology

On a personal note, the Church’s stance against gender ideology resonates deeply. Having identified as trans and taken hormones for eight years only to later detransition, I appreciate its principled critique, grounded in Natural Law and a theology of male and female as God’s design. Few institutions articulate such a coherent counterpoint to gender ideology, and this clarity has been a lifeline for me as I navigate my past and present.

8. The Eucharist

The Eucharist, and the doctrine of the Real Presence, is incredible to me. I haven’t yet received the Eucharist myself because I’m not confirmed, but it’s one of the things I’m most excited about—partaking in Communion, eating the literal Body of Christ, the Bread of Life. I won’t dive into all the rich theology and biblical interpretation behind the Real Presence, but for me, the reverence surrounding it is profound. The Eucharist is considered the source and summit of the Christian faith, and that resonates deeply with me.

This sacrament offers ongoing sustenance, available every day, allowing you to commune with God, to take Him into your body, and to share in the sacrificial Passover meal. It’s not about re-sacrificing Jesus but remembering His sacrifice in a unique, sacred way—a miracle He instituted, a taste of heaven on earth. It’s beautiful, and I’m not even doing justice to the depth of its theology here.

People like Dr. Scott Hahn have opened my eyes to how the entire Bible, especially the Old Testament, builds toward the Eucharist. It’s central to understanding Christianity. The early Church Fathers recognized this too—they saw its critical importance, and that tradition is stunning to me. When you trace the history—the Old Testament, the Passover, Jewish traditions—you see how Jesus becomes the new Passover, the ultimate sacrifice that cleanses all sin once and for all.

The Eucharist is a theologically rich mystery, and it’s one of the most beautiful aspects of the faith. The reverence I’ve witnessed for it transforms a church service into something special and sacred, unlike anything I’d experienced or understood about Christianity before. That Eucharistic perspective is, to me, truly amazing.

9. The Mass

I absolutely love the Mass. It’s tied to the Eucharist, of course, but what stands out to me is the established liturgical ritual—it’s beautiful, reverent, and deeply meaningful. I know there’s debate about the Latin Mass versus the Novus Ordo, but I feel fortunate because the Novus Ordo Mass I attend at my cathedral is incredibly reverent. It’s not casual or haphazard; it has a structure that feels sacred and purposeful.

Coming from a Protestant background, the liturgy was unfamiliar at first. I found it strange to memorize responses as a congregation. But as I’ve gotten used to the rhythms and patterns of the Mass, and started to understand its theological and liturgical significance, I’ve fallen in love with it. Every part has a purpose and meaning, rooted in Scripture and the traditions of the early Church, going back to its very beginnings. The Mass is a Eucharistic communion meal, a sacrificial Passover meal, and once you grasp that, it’s profoundly beautiful.

I’d recommend Dr. Scott Hahn to anyone considering converting to Catholicism—he’s been mind-blowing in helping me understand the liturgy, the Mass, and the Eucharist. It’s become an amazing part of my faith.

10. Marian Devotion

I find devotion to Mary, the Blessed Virgin and Holy Mother, absolutely amazing. Before my conversion, I spent a long time exploring New Age spirituality and paganism. I was drawn to paganism because it connected me to the feminine, something I felt was missing in the Protestant understanding of the Trinity. In that view, it’s just three male persons—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit—with no mother or feminine energy in the theology. Paganism, with its emphasis on goddesses, filled that gap for me. Later, when I explored esoteric branches of Christianity, I got into sophiology—the tradition that personifies wisdom as a feminine figure, almost like a goddess. I loved having that feminine element in my theology; it brought a sense of balance.

That’s why I find the Catholic tradition’s concept of Mary, the Mother of God, so beautiful. She’s human, yet blessed with special graces, as seen in doctrines like the Immaculate Conception. The theological depth behind her role is captivating. I love that I can pray to her—not to worship her as a divine being, but to venerate her and ask for her intercession on my behalf. The reverence for Mary in the Catholic Church is stunning to me. It’s not just about God the Father and Jesus the Son, but also Mary, the Blessed Mother. That inclusion of femininity feels so central and rich.

What’s even more beautiful is that Marian devotion isn’t some fringe idea—it’s at the heart of the faith for so many Catholics. I love how deeply baked into the Church this devotion to the Holy Mother is. It’s a truly special and meaningful part of Catholicism for me.

11. Prayer

I’ve come to love the rich prayer life in Catholicism, especially the Rosary. Growing up Protestant, I was taught that Catholic prayers—like the memorized, repetitive ones—weren’t authentic. In the evangelical tradition, prayer was spontaneous, made up on the spot from your own thoughts. Catholic prayer, with its established, memorized structure, felt strange to me back then.

But now, I really appreciate it. Praying the Rosary, for example, with its repetition of Hail Marys, draws me into a contemplative, meditative mindset. There’s something beautiful about relying on that ingrained rhythm—it helps me settle into a deeper, more reflective state. I’ve found the Catholic prayer life, with its traditions and structure, to be incredibly enriching. It’s a beautiful part of the faith that I’ve grown to cherish.

12. The Saints

I think saints are incredible. Their stories—tales of holy men and women who lived extraordinary lives—are so inspiring. The fact that there are so many of them, each with amazing stories and miracles tied to their lives, creates this rich, fascinating history. It’s a treasure trove of inspiration to draw from. For skeptics or doubters, the well-documented miracles associated with saints can strengthen faith. Atheists often ask, 'If God exists, where’s the proof? Why don’t we see miracles?' But the truth is, there are plenty of miracles—carefully recorded—linked to saints. You just have to look for them. I think that’s a powerful help for people, like me, who wrestle with intellectual doubts about faith.

I also love that in the Catholic Church, you can pray to the saints and ask for their intercession. It’s beautiful. There’s a saint for nearly every situation or need in life, someone specific to turn to for help. Building that connection with the saints feels special. It ties into the Apostles’ Creed, where we profess belief in the communion of saints. These holy men and women lived sanctified lives we can draw inspiration from, and now, from heaven, we can ask for their prayers. That’s a truly wonderful part of the faith.

13. Relics

I find the concept of saints’ relics absolutely fascinating. The miracles associated with them, the rich tradition, the reverence, the symbolism—it’s all so intriguing. I love how Catholicism includes what I’d call 'spiritual knickknacks'—these sacred objects and items that carry deep meaning. It’s beautiful to me that the faith isn’t some stark, barren landscape devoid of holy things. In our modern world, I think it’s vital to have a sense of sacred objects and spaces because they connect us to the mysteries of the transcendent, and that’s something worth holding onto.

The history of relics is so rich, and when I learned there are relics of the actual cross Jesus died on, it blew my mind. It’s incredible to think we have tangible pieces of that event. It instantly links you to 2,000 years of Christian history, grounding you in something so profound and real. That connection to the past through relics is just amazing to me.

14. Miracles

I find Marian apparitions—like Our Lady of Fatima and Zeitoun—along with Eucharistic miracles and healings to be powerful responses to atheist skeptics who argue, 'If God exists, where’s the evidence? Where’s the proof of the supernatural?' They claim there’s no sign of God, but when you dig into these miracles, you encounter events that defy explanation within a scientific, materialistic, or naturalistic worldview. Skeptics often dismiss them with weak, hand-waving explanations that just don’t hold up.

Take the apparition at Fatima, for example. Hundreds of thousands of people witnessed it, including not just superstitious villagers but also scientifically trained observers, atheists, skeptics, journalists, and doctors. This wasn’t some local rumor—it was reported in newspapers worldwide by credible investigators. Yet skeptics will say things like, 'Oh, it was just weather particles' or 'an atmospheric phenomenon.' If it were that simple, it wouldn’t have left so many people—skeptics and believers alike—stunned and awestruck. These flimsy explanations fail to account for the scale and impact of what happened.

I love that the Catholic Church has these genuine miracles woven into its tradition. For someone like me, who wrestles intellectually with faith, they’re a gift from God. His grace provides these signs—miracles like Marian apparitions and Eucharistic wonders—to strengthen our belief. We can investigate them using reason and find that naturalistic explanations fall short, which is incredibly comforting and affirming to my faith.

15. Global Ecclesial Union

I love the global ecclesial unity of the Catholic Church. It’s truly a worldwide body, a single communion—one holy, apostolic Church. There’s a mystery in this unity, in the Church that Jesus founded. He desired us to be one, a single Church, and the Catholic Church fulfills that vision. It’s the only Church that meets all the criteria Jesus laid out: it’s unified, with a single body that’s persisted for 2,000 years, rooted in apostolic succession that traces back to the apostles themselves, and it’s truly ecumenical.

This global union of over a billion believers, all sharing the same catechism and doctrines, is beautiful to me. The fact that there’s this unity across nations, spoken in all languages, stands as a testament to the truth of Catholicism. To me, its growth and presence worldwide are evidence that this is indeed the true Church Jesus established.

16. The Magisterium

I really value the Magisterium and the Catechism of the Catholic Church. The Church places a strong emphasis on tradition to help us understand the doctrines of revelation, interpret Scripture, and provide clear teachings. The existence of the Catechism is amazing—it’s a comprehensive resource with answers and teachings laid out in a straightforward way. Countless brilliant theological minds have carefully considered these doctrines, presenting them without ambiguity and offering theological and moral certainty.

This certainty is grounded in the truth, secured by apostolic succession, which ensures the Magisterium can faithfully guide the Church. Because of this, we can trust that the Church won’t stray from the fundamental doctrines of faith and morality essential to our salvation. We don’t have to wrestle with doubts about these core truths. For someone like me, who has a philosophical and naturally skeptical mindset and tends to question everything, this is a beautiful and reassuring gift.

17. Apostolic Succession

The unbroken line from St. Peter to today’s pope is awe-inspiring. This succession, with the Keys of the Kingdom, sets Catholicism apart from Protestantism, which dismisses its importance. It’s a historical and theological anchor I treasure.

18. The Sacraments

The seven sacraments—baptism, confession, Eucharist, and more—are tools for holiness. Though I’ve yet to confess, I anticipate its cleansing power. These gifts from Jesus sanctify us, uniting us with God’s divine life, and their theological depth moves me.

19. Sense of Community

Parish life and Catholic friends, both local and online, have welcomed me warmly. This growing sense of community—rich and supportive—is a delight I’m only beginning to explore.

20. Embrace of Mystery

I love how the Catholic Church embraces mystery. It holds that faith and reason, both gifts from God, will never conflict. God gave us reason to understand Him and the natural world, and since He created both, science and faith are inherently compatible—we don’t need to worry about them clashing.

Yet, even with reason, there are mysteries that go beyond our ability to fully grasp. These mysteries, like the Incarnation, don’t contradict reason; they simply exceed it. I think that’s important to hold onto because, as humans, we have a deep longing for the mysterious. It connects us to the mystical tradition and our desire for union with God.

Recognizing that God is radically infinite, transcendent, and mysterious is humbling. It reminds us that there’s a profound, sacred mystery at the heart of the Catholic faith, something that preserves its sense of awe and wonder.

21. Social Teachings

The Church’s commitment to social justice—caring for the poor and marginalized—reflects Jesus’ call. Its history of missionary work and outreach inspires me, aligning faith with action.

22. Mystical and Contemplative Tradition

I deeply appreciate the Catholic Church’s embrace of its mystical and contemplative traditions. There’s this rich history of monasticism—monks, nuns, contemplatives, and mystics—who have experienced profound mystical encounters throughout Catholic history. These figures, like Thomas Merton, have documented their experiences and developed contemplative practices such as prayer, fasting, and meditation. To me, that’s beautiful.

When I was an atheist, I was drawn to Eastern philosophies like Buddhism because I admired their tradition of meditation. I used to think meditation was unique to Eastern religions. But I’ve since discovered that the Catholic Church has its own deep history of meditative and contemplative practices, which I find incredibly enriching. This resonates with me because, at my core, I’m a contemplative person. It feeds my soul, and I’m grateful that this tradition is available to me within Catholicism.

23. Universalist Hope

One thing I struggle with intellectually and morally in Christianity is the doctrine of hell. Naturally, I lean toward universalism—the idea that everyone might ultimately be saved. However, I appreciate how the Catholic Church teaches the reality of hell, defining it as the final separation from God. This separation is a real possibility because every human has the free will to either accept or reject God’s love, mercy, and grace. Hell, then, is the state reserved for those who make a deliberate, final choice to reject God.

This rejection might seem unimaginable—why would anyone turn away from God’s love if they truly knew Him? But it’s entirely possible, especially through pride. Free will means we can be stubborn and prideful, and pride, often called the deadliest sin, can lead someone to reject God’s grace entirely. So, I do believe hell exists as a consequence of that radical free will.

At the same time, I’m drawn to the universalist hope within the Catholic tradition. Many Catholic theologians have suggested it’s reasonable to hope that all people might eventually be saved. For example, there’s a prayer from Fatima that says, 'O my Jesus, forgive us our sins, save us from the fires of hell, lead all souls to heaven, especially those most in need of Thy mercy.' This reflects a profound hope that Jesus will ultimately bring everyone to heaven.

Yet, this hope doesn’t erase the reality of hell. As long as free will exists, there’s always the possibility that some might reject God’s love and mercy, resulting in eternal separation from Him. Balancing this possibility with the universalist hope feels theologically satisfying to me—it acknowledges both the gravity of free will and the boundless mercy of God.

24. The Call Towards Sainthood

The idea of sainthood isn’t reserved for just a few extraordinary people—every single one of us is called to live a saintly, holy life. This means getting right with God, repenting of our sins, following His commandments, and living out a sexual and normative ethics that aligns with His will. We’re called to purify ourselves through the sacraments—like confession—prayer, study, and devotion. In essence, we are all called to be saints.

I find this incredibly inspiring, especially when I compare it to some aspects of Protestantism. In that tradition, it can be easier to settle into a mindset of 'I’m a pretty good person' or 'I’m saved because I believe,' thanks to ideas like 'once saved, always saved.' But this can lead to being lukewarm in faith and devotion, making excuses instead of pushing yourself to grow. You might not feel challenged to truly pursue a holy life.

I love the Catholic challenge that calls all of us to strive for perfection—to be as perfect as we can be, to become truly holy, to become saints. The fact that sanctification is a genuine call for every one of us is beautiful to me.

25. The Defense of Life

The Church’s defense of life’s infinite dignity from conception aligns with my growing philosophical unease with abortion’s justifications. Its moral clarity counters secular utilitarianism, affirming human worth.

It's important in our modern world to push back against the devaluation of human life. For example, philosopher Peter Singer has justified this devaluation within the framework of liberal secular ethics, arguing the logical consequence of utilitarianism supports the murder of disabled infants. This reveals a fundamental flaw in modern consequentialist and utilitarian ethics, which function as the defining ethos of secularity. We see this in the Left’s belief that the end justifies the means of extreme violence to bring about their socialist utopia.

In contrast, Catholic philosophy offers a more foundational moral perspective, one that emphasizes the infinite dignity of the human soul, which is made in the image of God. I find that to be a very powerful alternative.

26. Arriving Home

Finally, I feel at home. At 38, after exploring countless beliefs—Protestantism, atheism, Eastern religions, New Age occultism and more—Catholicism ends my spiritual wandering. As St. Augustine said, "You have made us for yourself O Lord & our heart is restless until it rests in you.” The warm “welcome home” from Catholics online mirrors my heart’s peace. This sense of arrival is a beautiful gift.