Even an Old Tree Has Hope
(NOTE: This first-person story was initially published in the July/August 2025 issue of Eastern Oklahoma Catholic magazine. With the recent national and international news about growing numbers of converts to Catholicism, it seems an appropriate time to to share with a wider audience.)
BY CHRIS RUSH
As far as I can determine from genealogical research, the Rush family tree has been Protestant since shortly after the Reformation. I was raised Southern Baptist, as was my father, and his father before him. It was our family heritage and an integral part of my spiritual and cultural formation.
So, it was a jolt when in 2016, my college-aged son announced to his mother and I that he was converting to Catholicism. Catholic? Really?
I’ll return to this moment, but first some back story.
Reflecting on my own experience after moving away from home to attend college many years earlier, I bring to mind the now-painful memory of walking away from the faith and ignoring the tenets of my upbringing. But like many a contrite prodigal son, I eventually came running back to God in my late 20s. That decision led to my marriage and having a family of my own.
As parents of young children in the mid-1990s, my wife and I plunged headfirst into our church community. It was a cornerstone of our lives. Over time, I was asked to become an adult Sunday School teacher. I reluctantly accepted but ended up teaching for several years. During this time — while in the thick of a newspaper career that would take our family from Oklahoma to Arkansas, back to Oklahoma, to Washington, back again to Oklahoma, and then finally to Oregon — we were faithful church attendees not only for the sake of our children but also for our own spiritual wellbeing.
I was ultimately ordained a deacon in the Baptist Church and was occasionally called upon to help serve Communion or the “Lord’s Supper” as it is called in Baptist tradition. I was honored to do so. Baptists typically only observe Communion every few months, or quarterly, and it is taken as a memorial of our Lord’s Last Supper — a solemn but symbolic gesture that signifies a believer’s covenant relationship with Jesus Christ.
After reverently eating the tiny unleavened cracker (bread) and drinking from the little disposable cup of grape juice (wine), I found myself still feeling spiritually hungry and thirsty. I reasoned that these feelings were my own issue to wrestle with. Maybe I was not taking Communion in the right spiritual frame of mind. Certainly, there were times I neglected my prayer life and personal Bible study. I resolved to do better, but those feelings never went away.
After a few job promotions and relocations, my wife and I were sometimes unable to locate a suitable Baptist Church nearby, so we landed upon what we thought was an acceptable substitute, the Disciples of Christ (aka Christian Church). This denomination takes Communion every week. Maybe this was the answer? While we benefited from the teaching and the fellowship, the frequency of Communion was not the answer to my continued spiritual longing.
Later, as empty nesters with both kids grown and attending college, we began to gradually fall away from consistent church attendance. At the same time, I had a growing conviction that something was incomplete and disordered in my spiritual life. We were both searching for something but not finding it.
That’s about the time the aforementioned thunderbolt struck. While attending college at Oklahoma State University, my son and his fiancé announced that they both intended to convert to Catholicism and would prepare to be married in a Catholic ceremony. Not long afterward, we met Father Kerry Wakulich, pastor of St. John Catholic Student Center at OSU. Some of our misgivings and misconceptions about Catholicism began to soften. Here was a faithful priest dedicated to the spiritual health and well-being of our son and future daughter-in-law. I also heard the passion in our son’s voice when he and I engaged in some robust conversations about his life-altering spiritual decision. We ultimately made peace with it.
At our first time attending a Catholic wedding we watched our son Evan marry his bride Julia in a beautiful Christ-centered ceremony presided over by Fr. Kerry in front of two Protestant families. That was 2017. A few years later, they invited us to attend Easter Vigil Mass with them at Holy Family Cathedral while we were visiting here in Tulsa. Sure, why not?
I recall praying silently at the beginning of the Mass by asking a simple but burning question in my Protestant heart and mind, “Jesus, are you really here?” The answer was immediate and unmistakable in my spirit. Christ was very much present, and I was invited to see for myself. I sat silently and somewhat dumbfounded through two-plus hours of beautiful incense-filled liturgy including powerful scripture readings and glorious songs of praise.
I watched as adult catechumens and candidates — many of them converts from Protestant backgrounds like mine — gathered for Confirmation and received their first Holy Communion. As hundreds of the faithful streamed forward to receive the Blessed Sacrament from Bishop David Konderla, it occurred to me that there was something more happening here than merely memorializing Jesus’ Last Supper. The Eucharist was at the very heart of the worship.
Over the next few years, I began to dabble in Catholic teaching and culture. I was officially “Catholic curious.” I bought a Catholic Bible. I began consuming reading materials and YouTube videos by Catholic theologians like Dr. Scott Hahn (an adult convert to Catholicism) and Bishop Robert Barron, and watching podcasts like Catholic Answers and Pints with Aquinas. My wife and I began sporadically attending Catholic Mass, first at Easter, then at Christmas, and then on random Sundays.
Over time, I began to realize that it was the real presence of our Lord in the Eucharist that I had been longing for. I discovered that Catholicism was beautiful and true! With this truth settled in my heart and mind, I was ready to dive even deeper and I also desired that my wife come with me on the journey.
In early 2024, as we prepared to move from Amarillo, Texas back to my hometown of Tulsa after more than 30 years away, we both agreed that we would join a local Catholic parish and enroll in OCIA (Order of Christian Initiation for Adults). We have never looked back.
Most likely, none of this would have happened were it not for Evan’s and Julia’s lived-out commitment to the Faith and their gentle overtures to us over the years. It gradually softened my cynical heart and encouraged me to look beyond the false portrait of Catholicism that had been painted by others.
I’ve always been fond of this passage from the Book of Job: “A tree has hope: if it has been cut, it turns green again, and its branches spring forth. If its roots grow old in the earth, and its trunk passes into dust, at the scent of water, it will sprout and bring forth leaves, as when it had first been planted.” (Job 14:7-9)
At age 63, I have a suspicion that I was very much like that old dry stump, but I’ve caught the scent of water.
(On April 19, 2025 during Easter Vigil Mass, Chris and Sheryl Rush were Confirmed in the Catholic Church and received first Holy Communion. They are parishioners at Holy Family Cathedral in Tulsa. Chris serves the Diocese of Tulsa and Eastern Oklahoma as Communications Director and Editor of Eastern Oklahoma Catholic magazine.)
FROM LEFT: Julia, Evan, Sheryl and Chris Rush pictured at Holy Family Cathedral in 2025.
Going Rogue 