Have you ever wanted to ask a question, but you pause before you let it pass from your lips because you are almost certain you won’t like the answer? Or maybe you’ve asked the question, the question you now wish you hadn’t, and then you end up unfairly blaming the other person for the answer they’ve given you. Does any of this sound familiar? I’ve done both. Repeatedly.

My spiritual life has not been an exception to this pattern of being vulnerable, then being hurt or confused when my vulnerability is met with something other than validation. Validation is perhaps the best gift you can ever give someone, but that’s really a topic best saved for another time.

We’re on the fourth section in the When Faith Looks Different series.

4) Communicate what support you will need as you walk out your faith journey. Sometimes others are unable or unwilling to give you the support you ask for, and that’s fair enough (though it can still be painful). However, if you ask for specific support you may find that it is willingly offered to you. It takes vulnerability to express your needs, but it furthers your ability to communicate well.

Sometimes I’ve been unable to articulate what it is that I need, especially when it comes to conversations about faith with my husband. If you’ve been following along with this series, you know I’ve made some mistakes including, but not limited to: slamming doors, leaving the house angry and making sure his Bible was out of my sight.

I’ve had to ask vulnerable questions in order to know what support could be offered to me. This has been painful, but essential because I don’t want to walk my journey in isolation. Unless I ask and answer questions, the only option I allow myself is that of isolation.

During the past two years, these are some vulnerable questions I asked. Many of them were directed towards friends and family (particularly my husband).

*How do you feel about me not going to the Baptist church with you anymore?

*Does it bother you that you raised me as a Protestant and now I am becoming a Catholic?

*How will we raise our children? Will they go to both churches?

*Are you comfortable with our son being baptized Catholic?

*Would you still have married me if you knew that at some point I would no longer identify as a Protestant?

*Will you all come to Easter Vigil to see me be received into the church?

On the flip-side, here are some questions other people asked me upon hearing about my desire to convert to Catholicism:

*After not going to church for years, why would you choose a religion that is so strict?

*Are you sure you’re not just being impulsive? You might try it out and then decide it isn’t for you. How would you feel then?

*So you really think it is okay to worship Mary and other idols?

*You think you actually eat Jesus, his real flesh and blood, during communion?

*Would you have married me if you were already a Catholic when we started dating?

*Do you really believe you can talk to dead people?

*Why do you have to ask a priest for forgiveness of sin? Isn’t there only one mediator between God and man?

Much has been born out of asking and being asked questions like the ones above. I’ve been able to determine who I can go to for support, who simply cannot understand, who just doesn’t care, and who honors my love for my faith.

I’ll close this post with an example from two weeks ago. It was a Sunday. My husband was having breakfast with our son, and I was still in bed. I hadn’t asked him to go to church with us for several months. Good Friday was the last time we all went together. So, I call out from the bedroom, “Hey, do you want to go to church with us today?”

“No.” This was his simple answer.

I did feel disappointed, even though I had expected him to say no. But I didn’t feel anger this time. That morning, I asked for a particular kind of support and it was something he was unwilling to give me, but I was able to accept what he could give me. The support he could offer that morning looked like kissing us both goodbye, making sure I didn’t forget Keller’s Hug-A-Bible, and a warm smile as we left the front porch. And this time, friends, I closed the front door gently.

What questions do you enjoy asking others about their faith practices? Has anyone ever asked you a question that has opened up some sort of spiritual revelation to you? Are there questions that have caused hurt for you? Thanks for reading.

{A Letter of Apology from a Catholic is the final part in this series.}