Testimony: No Perfect Church

Contributing author Margaret Reveira shows off Sharing Your Catholic Faith Story

By Margaret Reveira

Featured in Sharing Your Catholic Faith Story: Tools, Tips, and Testimonies

In the midst of an emotional crisis in March 1984, I accepted Jesus Christ as my Savior. I thought I had known him previously, since I attended Mass daily in my parish and was quite involved in a myriad of activities. I  eventually realized, though, that all of my labors did not equate to intimacy and, for that reason, it was necessary to pursue a personal relationship with him. It is a decision that I have never regretted.

Almost immediately after I confessed Jesus as Lord, a close friend who was instrumental in my desire to follow him began a non-stop recitation against Catholicism. She specified the many reasons why I was to leave the Church and insisted that my blessings from God would be delayed unless I was obedient in this one matter. I understood that I needed to grow in the Word, but I was reluctant to put aside what had been the core of my life since infancy.

I continued to attend Mass, as well as services in various nondenominational churches both in New York City where I reside and in the surrounding counties. The same friend encouraged me to participate in a small fellowship on Long Island where she and her family were members. To say that I did not fit in is an understatement at best. Anti-Catholicism was prevalent, and it seemed that many individuals there would go out of their way to chat about the perils of the Church. Aside from the obligatory hug exchanged during a particular point in the service, there was minimal camaraderie. Indeed, the “I love you, sister” was not at all expansive, and I realized that I was unable to remain. I remarked to my friend, “You will never understand. I am there by myself, and it is rare that anyone will go out of their way to make me feel welcome. You can talk against Catholicism as much as you want, yet in my parish I am known and greeted by name during Mass and at all times.” We maintained our friendship, but, aside from an occasional women’s group meeting, I refused to go back.

At the suggestion of an acquaintance, I went to a singles meeting that was affiliated with a church in Rockland County. There I spoke to a man who had been a member of my parish but recently had left to join that same church. There was no disparagement of Catholicism, and I enjoyed myself immensely. Of my own volition, I began to attend their services periodically. Several issues ultimately caused me to leave the Catholic Church in February 1995. I was restless, I was bored, and I knew that I was in need of a change as well as a manifestation of God’s Word in my life. For a while, I stayed home on Sundays. Then, with teaching tapes and my Bible in hand, I returned to the same church in Rockland County, followed by one in New Jersey. I enjoyed the services in both places, but why did I feel that something was missing?

In May 1998, I became a member of a megachurch in New York City. I met my husband there exactly one year later, and we married in November 2001. Both of us were on the volunteer staff and very involved, yet I felt a distinct uneasiness. I had often heard that there was no spiritual accountability in Catholicism and that people were essentially free to do as they pleased. In this particular atmosphere, I observed how many of the congregants, several of whom were fellow volunteers, lived in direct contradiction to God’s Word. When I began to question or challenge them in conversation, their responses were, “God doesn’t judge me —he knows I’m a work in progress, and he’ll bless me by the sincerity of my heart.” I was unable to fathom how this was allowed to occur within a purportedly Christian environment. The atrocities flourished.

With the influx of celebrities and speakers who seemed to advocate things that contradicted the Bible, the church sanctuary gradually became devoid of the Lord’s presence. I also witnessed how many of the attendees freely worshiped the pastor but knew little about the Risen Savior. During that period, I began to long for holiness, order, and adherence to the Word of God, all of which are basic principles of our faith. Isaiah 5:20 states: “Woe to those who call evil good and good evil, who put darkness for light and light for darkness, who put bitter for sweet and sweet for bitter.” During that time, I found myself not only having to defend the Faith, but telling others that the majority of Catholics whom I had known were sincere godly people who would prefer to die rather live a sordid lifestyle. When my husband and I resigned from this megachurch in June 2008, the Lord began to urge me to return to the Catholic Church. Rather than obey immediately, I shared the revelation with friends. Based on their responses, I assumed that I had not heard his voice. But the Lord is so gracious, for he continued to speak to my spirit until finally, in mid-2011, I could no longer deny his will for my life. My husband, who is not Catholic, supported this decision. In September of that year, I joined my local parish, Our Lady of Grace and, in essence, returned home, resuming my previous level of involvement there and, after that parish was closed in 2015, my current parish, St. Frances of Rome. I continue to accompany my husband to a nondenominational fellowship in our neighborhood, but I am proudly and boldly Catholic. The Lord has placed a fervency within my heart, and it is a joy to share the tenets of my faith with others.

I remember speaking with a man back in 1990 whom I had met at the singles fellowship five years earlier. By this point, he had returned to the Catholic faith. When I asked what prompted his decision, he replied, “There is no perfect church, but there is a perfect God.” Nearly thirty years later, his answer has continued to resonate within me.

Margaret Reveira is a lifelong New Yorker who has worked in law enforcement for the last thirty-eight years. She and her husband reside in Bronx County where she joyfully participates in her parish, St. Frances of Rome.