by Brett Manero
If there is anything that proves the existence of God, perhaps it is the conversion of one soul. Of course, there are countless proofs for the existence of God. St. Thomas Aquinas famously wrote his “five ways” that demonstrate the reality of God, and the First Vatican Council taught that human reason alone can discern the existence of the Almighty. But when a person converts, changes, and truly adapts to the challenging and beautiful truths of the Gospel, that perhaps is the most powerful proof to an unbelieving world of the reality of God.
Even for the most fervent believer, faith is not always easy. It was never meant to be easy. Then again, in one sense, Catholic Christian faith is easy. How so? Because God is always present, He provides us daily with the Sacraments, and He is always ready to receive us again and again in the Eucharist. He gives us all that we need.
But the truth is that faith is hard. So often, a new convert enjoys the sheer thrill and joy of conversion: feeling God closely in prayer, noticing providential events in one’s life, realizing that there is a plan for the journey, and seeing how all of life is an incredible symphony with God as the conductor. But faith necessarily has its darker moments, when all of the joy and thrills and highs that accompany conversion seem to vanish. Various saints and mystics have used different terms from it, most commonly the dark night of the soul, as coined by St. John of the Cross. Maybe true faith is tested during those dark nights of the soul, and true believers are the ones who remain even during the darkest of times and the most difficult of trials. “Blessed is the man who endures trial, for when he has stood the test he will receive the crown of life which God has promised to those who love him” (James 1:12).
In the darkest of nights, it can even be tempting to doubt God’s goodness, and even God’s existence. To doubt God’s goodness – to struggle with the problem of evil, or theodicy – is one of the most ancient struggles of every person. How can an all-powerful, all-loving God allow evil and suffering, especially of His followers? God brings good out of all things, even out of evil. He only allows evil because He can and does bring good out of it. Out of the most horrific evil of all – the murder of His Son – He brought the greatest good, our redemption and salvation.
But still, the problem of evil is hard to deal with. In the midst of suffering, it is terribly difficult to feel God’s presence and goodness and to accept the theological explanations of the mystery of evil. For the depressed person, whose mind is almost always in a state of sadness, this is especially hard. It can feel as if God is not only not absent, but it can be tempting to feel that He does not exist.
But God is real, as St. Thomas and the First Vatican Council explain. Nature and creation constantly give testimony to His existence. Atheism, at the end of the day, is a very shallow belief system. I have known some wonderfully kind and genuine atheists, but the reality is that God does exist, even when it seems like He doesn’t.
For me, in the darkest moments, I go to the example of Confession. It is one of the seven Sacraments of course, and an essential one. Before one receives the Eucharist – in one sense, the greatest of the Sacraments – one must be in a state of grace, and going to Confession is the primary way to attain that state. Confession is my reminder of the awesome reality of God. What happens in Confession is itself a proof of God’s existence.
A friend of mine who is a seminarian once claimed: “There is an ontological change that takes place in the soul in Confession.” The definition of ontology is “the branch of metaphysics dealing with the nature of being.” In Confession, the soul – which is the life principle of the human person, that which literally makes the body come alive – is literally changed. The soul that was in a state of mortal sin moves into a state of grace, from complete darkness to a shining light, from a horrific heaviness to a heavenly lightness. I think many of my fellow Catholics would agree that one feels remarkably different after Confession – the soul feels cleansed, the mind has calmed down, the tendency towards sin is greatly reduced. One feels lighter, calmer, happier, and simply better. Some might argue that this is simply a psychological and emotional phenomenon, and they are partly correct. It is indeed psychological and emotional, as the human person is not only spiritual and physical, but also has a mind and a heart. There is something beneficial about confessing one’s faults to another, and hearing the other express forgiveness. We can do this to friends and other loved ones, which we should, but there is something all the more powerful and real when an ordained priest tells us that we are forgiven. This is of course the power of the Sacrament: the priest in acting in persona Christi, in the person of Christ, as it is really Christ who is forgiving us, injecting sanctifying grace into our souls, bringing about this very real ontological change. I have felt it countless times in Confession, as I believe many others have. It is a change that can only be of divine origin, not merely of psychological origin. It is too real and too powerful to be a product of human thinking. Some mysteries can only be explained by the power of God.
For myself, in the darkest and saddest moments, when God seems horribly distant and even non-existent, I go to Confession. Sometimes I literally go to Confession, but I also go there in my mind, reminding myself of that change of the soul which can only come from God. Even when God seems absent, we still have the power of Confession and the change it brings – as we have in all of the Sacraments – that reassure us of His reality.