*This article was first published in Radiant Magazine.
I remember the evening was cool, a gift for a midsummer night in the south. Sitting on a dock by a pretty lake at dusk, I was still stunned that I had scored a date with Stephen Apple. Part of me remained astonished; I, the quiet wallflower, had somehow found myself alongside someone so vibrant and full of life, a true heartbeat of every gathering. Our paths first crossed at 15 in the halls of our Baptist youth group. From that first meeting, we were drawn to one another, a friendship that quickly turned into something deeper.
Years passed and before I knew it, I was walking across the stage at Liberty University, diploma in hand. Mere months later, Stephen and I exchanged vows. We were both Protestant, but during my time at college, a small but persistent seed of curiosity had been planted — a question, perhaps even a longing, concerning the ancient roots of the Catholic Church and the many branches that had since grown. As a theology major, I wrestled with questions of Church history and the fragmentation of Christianity into myriad denominations.
It was five years after our wedding that I stumbled upon the works of G.K. Chesterton, a man whose wit and wisdom were matched only by his profound faith. His book “Orthodoxy” shocked me when I learned that this intellectual giant was a convert to the Catholic Church.
In 2014, I discovered Blessed is She, a group of Catholic women who shared daily devotions that felt, at first, foreign to my Protestant sensibilities. Yet, as I delved deeper into these reflections, I felt an unmistakable nudge from Christ, a gentle yet persistent call to consider the Catholic Church more seriously. Two years later, after much prayer and reflection, I approached my husband with the idea of attending RCIA classes. Though he did not feel the same call, he respected my decision, offering his support as I took this significant step. And so, in 2017, on a beautiful spring evening, with my husband among the witnesses, I was received into the Catholic Church.
Seven years have passed since that day, and with them have come many questions from friends and family. “How does it work?” they ask. “Where do you go to Church? Doesn’t it bother you that you’re ‘unequally yoked’?”
How do you navigate these questions as a Catholic woman? What is the recipe for success in a Catholic-Protestant marriage? How do you respond to extended family who don’t agree? These circumstances are so complicated and vary vastly with individual situations. While the answers to these questions are unique to the person going through it, I can share what I’ve learned and perhaps, in sharing my experience, I might offer some comfort to others walking a similar path.
Conversion is personal
“In marriage, we have a duty to God, our spouses, the world, and future generations. But we are sinners. A husband and wife need to acknowledge that when the Bible speaks of fools, it is not just speaking about other people, but about them as well.” — C.S. Lewis, “Mere Christianity”
C.S. Lewis, in his reflections on Christian marriage, reminds us that our earthly relationships are but shadows of a deeper reality, a preparation for our ultimate relationship with God. He speaks of the covenant of marriage as a reflection of divine love, a sacred bond that, while mingled with challenges, is ordained by God. Conversion, much like marriage, is a deeply personal decision. My own conversion to the Catholic Church remains one of the most profound decisions of my life. The Eucharist brings me to tears — tears of joy, gratitude and awe. It is, I believe, the closest we come to heaven while still on earth. Each Mass is a humbling reminder of the divine mystery of Christ’s Church, a mystery that continues to transform and renew me.
My husband, so lovingly, listens when I share my Catholic faith — finding joy in my own joy. Our mutual respect has been the bedrock of our marriage, a reflection of the love that Pope St. John Paul II described when he said, “Marriage is an act of will that signifies and involves a mutual gift, which unites the spouses and binds them to their eventual souls, with whom they make up a sole family — a domestic church” (“Love and Responsibility”).
While I would be overjoyed if my husband were to convert, such a decision is not one to be forced. It is a sacred and personal journey, and if your spouse does not feel called to the same path, it is vital to remain faithful to your own, respecting their decision with the same grace you hope to receive. The example of St. Monica comes to mind — a woman of extraordinary patience, kindness and perseverance, embodying the virtues of Proverbs 31: “She is clothed with strength and dignity. … She opens her mouth in wisdom; kindly instruction is on her tongue” (v. 25, 26). Conversion is a matter between your spouse and God; our role is to be faithful, loving, and ever committed to following Christ.
Be respectful of their concerns
“Spouses are therefore the permanent reminder to the Church of what happened on the Cross; they are for one another and for the children witnesses to the salvation in which the sacrament makes them sharers.” — Pope St. John Paul II, Familiaris Consortio, Section 13
One of my husband’s reasons for not converting to the Catholic Church is the Catholic theology of the Eucharist. It’s funny because once I understood what the Eucharist was, it was the main reason that pushed me through the front door for RCIA class. One day, I was watching a video by Bishop Barron on the Eucharist, and everything clicked.
When faced with concerns or reservations from your spouse, remember to be quick to listen, very slow to speak and always respectful. It’s not your responsibility to convert your spouse; we can invite, but it is ultimately up to them and the grace of God. And we especially want to avoid forcing conversion. We have been called to live as Christ, to be gentle and to pray for one another. I love the following quote from St. Josemaría Escrivá: “Marriage is to help married people sanctify themselves and others. For this reason, they receive a special grace in the sacrament which Jesus instituted. Those who are called to the married state will, with the grace of God, find within their state everything they need to be holy.”
Naturally, each marriage presents its own unique challenges, and it may be that your spouse is not as inclined toward Catholicism as you might hope. If your spouse harbors reservations — or even a pronounced aversion — toward the Faith, exercise patience. Pray earnestly, and strive to be the very best spouse you can be, modeling the virtues of humility, love, and steadfastness. When the subject of Catholicism arises, whether in conversation with your spouse, parents, or others, certain topics are likely to surface repeatedly. It is important to articulate the Church’s authority with clarity, highlighting the roles of sacred Tradition, Scripture, and the papacy. Additionally, carefully distinguish between worship, which belongs to God alone, and veneration, which honors Mary and the saints. Be prepared, too, to address the failures of individuals within the Church, acknowledging past scandals with honesty and grace, while affirming that such failings do not diminish the truth of Catholicism itself.
Embrace the differences
“Dialogue does not originate from tactical concerns or self-interest, but is an activity with its own guiding principles, requirements, and dignity. It is demanded by the deep respect for everything that has been brought about in human beings by the Spirit who blows where he wills.” — Pope St. John Paul II, Redemptoris Missio, No. 56
Some of the best conversations my husband and I have shared have been about our different theological views and also how there are so many similarities. These discussions are not only intellectually stimulating but also serve to sharpen us spiritually. As St. Paul writes in his letter to the Philippians, “work out your salvation with fear and trembling.” What better way to do so than through honest, open dialogue about our faith?
There lies within the very act of interreligious dialogue a profound and inherent value — a value not merely in the exchange of words but in the testimony of faith that such dialogue necessarily entails. In sharing our beliefs, we bear witness to the truths we hold dear, a witness that is, in itself, a form of proclamation. Both dialogue and proclamation are essential endeavors of the Church, carried out in faithful obedience to the gentle yet compelling guidance of the Holy Spirit.
Pope St. John Paul II, in Redemptoris Missio, elucidates this further, reminding us that such dialogue does not arise from mere strategy or self-serving aims. Rather, it is an endeavor of noble dignity, governed by its own principles and demands. It is a response born out of profound reverence for the work of the Spirit, who moves freely and mysteriously within the hearts of all people.
A tapestry of grace
Weaving two traditions into a marriage — whether Protestant or Catholic — adds its unique hue, contributing to a richer, more vibrant whole. C.S. Lewis once observed that love is not an affectionate feeling but a steady wish for the loved person’s ultimate good as far as it can be obtained. This wisdom echoes in the very heart of a marriage where two traditions converge. It is not about persuading the other to convert but about walking together, each respecting the other, all the while anchored in the love that binds you both.
This road less traveled has been the most rewarding for me. It is on this path that I have encountered the depth and breadth of God’s grace, learning to love not in spite of our differences, but because of them. In this way, marriage becomes a living testament to the beauty of Christ — a union that, though tested, emerges stronger, bearing witness to the eternal love of Christ, who calls us all, from every tradition, into the fullness of his truth.
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