The Least of the Apostles

"Christ died for our sins, in accordance with the Scriptures; and He was buried; He was raised on the third day; He appeared to Cephas, then to the Twelve.  After that, Christ appeared to more than five hundred brothers at once. After that. . . to James, then to all the apostles. Last of all, as to one born abnormally, He appeared to me. For I am the least of the apostles, not fit to be called an apostle, because I persecuted the church of God. But by the grace of God, I am what I am, and His grace to me has not been ineffective. Indeed, I have toiled harder than all of them; not, I, however, but the grace of God that is with me. Therefore, whether it be I or they, so we preach, and so you believed." --[1 Corinthians 15:1-11].


From the very beginnings of my life, I have been the most unlikely of Christians.

My mother was raised in the Episcopal Church. Her parents chose that church, not out of any systematic understanding of the denomination's views, but because  that church was where all the "right families" attended.

My father had a Catholic mother, who had to leave her Church in order to marry my grandfather, who was Presbyterian. When he married my mother, he became Episcopalian.

Talk about a confused spiritual upbringing for me. A least you could say we were "ecumenical".

When I was born, I almost did not make it out into the world alive. In essence, I almost died before I had a chance to live. My mother always exalted the skilled hands of the doctor who delivered me.
From the age of thirteen, though, when I was told the story of my birth, I knew who my Real Deliverer was.

But when I was fourteen, after both of my mother's parents had died, we stopped going to church.  I call this, "The Day They Took Church Away."  Our church was too far away to walk, and we had no other relatives in town.

Once the grandparents were gone, the Truth came out. My parents were non-believers. No, I did not actively persecute Christians, but I spent my childhood hearing my family scoff at the Immaculate Conception. They talked of Christians as losers who have "only God', and not much else going for them. They called Christians "hypocrites" who needed to cling to God since they were the worst sinners in our town.

Gradually, I went silent. What does one, a mere child, say to people who utter such hateful things? Particularly when such people are your family?

When the call to Convert came decades later, it hit me like a ton of bricks. Consider Acts 9, in which Saul, who became Paul, "still breathing out murderous threats against the Lord's disciples", and nearing Damascus, saw a sudden flash of light around him and fell to the ground, hearing Jesus say, 'Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?' "

When the call came to convert, like Saul, I was in a black fog. I felt as if I could see nothing. I tried to meditate upon the merciful face of Jesus, but His face was not there. I had to rely on other Christians to assist me, to see clearly for me, to pray for me, to put their arms around me. I was in crisis. I was in immense pain.

Worse, I felt keenly, and personally, all the persecution emanating from my parents. I was (re)-living the pain of my family's hatred of Christians. Paul, himself, was thrown to the ground by the accusations of persecution, coming from the Lord Himself.  It was no wonder that I took all of this so personally: Jesus did, too, and we all have Jesus inside of us.

As with Paul, it was a long road back. I was fearful of being open with my Faith. I told the priest, 'No one ever taught me to pray. No one ever prayed for me.' The priest said, 'Well, I WILL pray for you.'

I started as a baby, just as Saul, becoming Paul, had to be fed by others in order to regain his strength.

I had to learn the Christian prayers all over again, The Lord's Prayer, The Hail Mary, The Glory Be.

I kept confusing Mary, Mother of Jesus, with Mary Magdalene.

I debated which Holy Day was more important, Christmas or Easter?

I had never owned a Bible, much less read it.

I had trouble following the order of the Mass. My husband had to nudge me when to sit, stand or kneel.

I was afraid to walk up the aisle to Communion. My son had to lead the way, with my husband behind me.

My First Communion was at 6:30 a.m. Mass, when it was still dark outside and the church was practically empty.

As Paul says, "I have toiled harder than all of them."  As for me, I have not had my Faith handed to me. I have had to fight for it; to nurture the tiny flame of Faith, to feed my Faith the oxygen of prayer, Scripture and church services.

My Faith is "abnormally born", not innately conferred. My Faith was borne out of the ashes of persecution and vehement non-belief. I had to start by crawling, then walking. Every once in awhile, I "fell off my horse." And so it was, with Paul.

Paul was the only apostle who did not receive Jesus when He was alive. Paul received the Risen Jesus, in a vision.  He calls himself, the "least of the apostles" for this.

People look at me and they seen me as one born again. Resurrected. They see me as a miracle, considering where I started from.

They want to give ME all the credit. But, 'I am what I am' , only by the Grace of God. My path is proof, not of my OWN stellar accomplishments; but proof that, "In my weakness, I am strong." God's grace is more than sufficient for me.

When I speak of God and His Son, it is "not I, however, but the grace of God that is in me."

IF you believe in my transformation, you believe in God. IF you believe in God, you will see HIM in my transformation.

I am the most unlikely of Christians. But, "whether it be I, or they [Christians from birth], so we preached and so you believed."  Yes, I, the least likely of Christians, has been given my voice. And, my Faith reaches all around the globe!

[Related Postings: "Recipe For a Saint",  Nov. 21, 2013].

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