A Knock at the Door

This morning I had a visit from a Jehovah’s Witness.

I had just returned home from grocery shopping and had put everything away. Brian was in the shower.

The man who showed up was an elderly fellow, and very sweet. He could see that I had my hands full (two little ones “hanging on my apron strings,” figuratively speaking); so he did try to keep his spiel short.

He showed me, in his New World Translation Bible, verses from Genesis, John…..a drawing in a little book of “heaven on earth,” showing people of all races living together in a Garden of Eden-like environment.

I’ve heard and seen all this before.

What is funny is that, just a week or two ago, I twice heard discussions on being prepared to talk to Jehovah’s Witnesses “when they show up at your door—and they will show up at your door.”

I thought they would never show up at my door.

Joke’s on me.

Several years ago, a friend of mine, whom I had met over the Internet, committed suicide. I traveled to Pennsylvania to help her husband and children for a couple of weeks after the funeral. I think I was really more “company” than “help,” for I was completely overwhelmed by the situation and had no clue where to begin with the mounds of laundry and cleaning that needed to be done; nor was I what you could call anything like a cook.

My friend’s husband had hired a housekeeper, though, thankfully. She was this wonderful black woman.  Shortly upon making her acquaintance, I could tell she had a strong faith in the Lord, and I admired that in her very much. Being around her was like having a grounding place, a guiding light—when she was there, I felt like I could handle the terrible situation we were all in. She was a Jehovah’s Witness, and witness she did. She gave me several little books to read, as well as a copy of the J.W. translation of the Bible. And when I returned home, I found she had signed me up to receive copies of The Watchtower in the mail.

I was very grateful to her. Most of what she had to say made perfect sense to me. I’d been away from church pretty much since leaving home for college, and the experience of losing my friend to suicide (and seeing her husband’s somewhat frightening reaction to being left to raise four children) caused me to feel more adrift than I’d ever been. The Jehovah’s Witnesses newsletters were something of a lifeline—a voice of sanity during a time of real personal upheaval.

For a while, I seriously considered attending the J.W. meetings. But I thought it would be wise to first do some research into what they really believe—beyond what they present in their little door-to-door booklets and in their magazine. It didn’t take much doing to find out the truth. I also discussed it with my mom, who had gone through her own J.W. experience years before—when Mom told the J.W. lady she’d been doing Bible study with that she was not interested in becoming a Jehovah’s Witness, the woman told Mom she could no longer be friends with her, then. Sad.

Anyway, the interesting thing is that all this stuff with considering the Jehovah’s Witnesses is what set me on the course to discover the Truth. What is Truth? Where is Truth? Who is Truth? Etc. My mind had been opened. No longer did I feel that the only possible place to find and worship God was in the Evangelical Covenant church of my childhood. Ultimately, I decided I could take the leap of faith into the Lutheran church (the church of my husband’s childhood). And once I was there, my heart was ready to learn about and accept Catholicism.

Did I tell any of this to the gentleman at my door this morning?

No.

I wish I had. I wish I had had the courage to invite him in to talk. But I was so nervous—even after he left, it took a good half-hour for me to stop shaking. And Brian was home and probably would not have been pleased—he’s the type that would say “no thank you” immediately and shut the door in the person’s face.

I’m the type of person who always thinks of the great stuff to say after the conversation is long over. All day I’ve been thinking of things I would have liked to have discussed with this man. I would have liked to have heard about how he came to be a Jehovah’s Witness, to ask him questions about why he feels it’s the “right” church. I would have liked to have shared with him my love for the Catholic church.

He offered me a little booklet about how to read and understand the Bible. Then he thanked me for my honesty when I told him that if I took it from him, it would end up in the recycling bin. I said I would not read it because I already knew it would not be in keeping with my own faith. He said, “You mean ‘traditional thinking.’” As if there is something wrong with traditional Christianity!

Anyway, it is good that this happened today. I think I handled it very well—I was kind, I agreed with everything he said (after all, nothing he said was out of line with my own beliefs), and I let him know I was happy with my own church (I told him I was a new Catholic; he immediately assumed I had converted for my husband’s sake, so I set him straight on that!). But oh, the discussion could have been so much richer.

I know this now. Next time, I will be prepared!