Wrestling, Waiting, and the Wonder of the Holy Spirit
The Church Has Always Had Its Growing Pains
So, I was sitting here this morning, minding my own business—rosary in hand, trying to pray—and God was downloading. Big time.
I’d already remembered my little kid missionary start, and thought I might write it out for you—which I’ve now done—and then I started wondering whatever happened to limbo. Because limbo was important in that story.
Yes. Limbo.
Not the party game with the stick (though, honestly, that one might be less complicated). I mean the limbo—the idea. The place. That old Catholic teaching from back when I was a Catholic school kid and we were "saving souls" with our nickels and our prayers.
If you haven’t read Stickers and Souls yet, back up and go take a look. Trust me—it explains everything and gives you the visual of how my spiritual journey began with tiny, multiethnic sticker babies and a heart full of compassion.
Anyway, I was sitting there thinking about how much I loved that project… and then how, somewhere along the way—probably while I was traipsing through the Protestant world—I heard that the Church doesn’t teach limbo anymore.
And I thought:
Wait… when did that happen?
Did we vote??
Who told the babies?!
So naturally, I asked Hank—my very patient digital theology buddy—and we ended up having this beautiful, Spirit-led conversation about how the Church grows.
Not “changes her mind.”
Grows.
And that’s where things got really good…
️What I Didn’t Know (But Apparently Everyone Else Did?)
Here’s what I’ve recently learned:
Limbo was never official Catholic dogma.
It was a theological theory—a way to reconcile two truths:
That baptism is necessary for salvation.
That God is infinitely merciful.
Over time, as the Church listened to the Holy Spirit, she matured in her understanding and began to teach that we can entrust unbaptized infants to the mercy of God.
She didn’t flip-flop.
She didn’t panic.
She grew.
And honestly, the more I learn about how the Church makes decisions—slowly, carefully, prayerfully, collectively—the more impressed I am. There’s something deeply comforting about being part of a faith that knows how to wait on the Lord.
Scripture… Didn’t Exist?
Here’s the second thing Hank dropped on me like a theological mic:
For the first 350 years after Jesus rose from the dead,
there was no New Testament Bible to quote.
Let me just say that again for the cradle Catholics in the back:
There was no “Bible-only” Christianity.
There was just the Church—teaching, breaking bread, laying on hands, and passing down the faith through sacred tradition.
I had never really thought about it. I mean, I knew the Bible came from somewhere, but I didn’t realize that for the first few centuries, it was the Church that preserved, protected, and eventually defined what the New Testament even was.
No group of early Christians were sitting around their kitchen tables reading Philippians with their coffee. They were listening to bishops, going to Mass, and being taught by people who had been taught by the apostles themselves.
Mind. Blown.
The Church That Waits Well
This is what the Church does.
She holds mystery when it isn’t clear.
She teaches what has been revealed.
She waits for what hasn’t.
And when the Spirit moves—through a council, a pope, a persistent tug over centuries—she listens. She reasons. She acts.
That’s not backpedaling.
That’s being alive.
And honestly?
It makes me love her more.
And Me?
I’m just Patty.
Born and raised Catholic, but I’ve sat under Protestant pastors for over 30 years. I’ve heard the quiet skepticism about Catholicism—and the loud stuff too. And yet, I never turned anti. I just kept following the Lord the best I knew how.
Now?
The Holy Spirit has me circling back—seeing everything I thought I knew with fresh eyes.
It’s like finding a treasure I didn’t even realize I had…
or maybe one I thought was only partly mine.
And what I’m discovering is that the Catholic tradition I was raised in has a depth and reverence I never fully appreciated before.
I still see the whole body of Christ—every sincere believer—as part of the family.
But there’s something extraordinary about how the Catholic Church carries the weight of history, mystery, and continuity.
It makes me want to slow down… listen more carefully…
and lean into the parts I never fully understood before.
Final Thought
The Church doesn’t just protect old teachings.
She stewards them.
She listens for the Spirit.
She reasons with Scripture and Tradition together.
And when the time is right—she speaks.
Not fast. Not flashy. But faithfully.
She doesn’t have all the answers.
But she’s held a lot of the right questions longer than most.
And me?
I’m just here, learning to ask better ones—
nickel in hand, rosary nearby,
ready for whatever the Spirit wants to show me next.
Hungry for more?
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