Never before have I been paralyzed by this question.

We were standing in the Religion section of Barnes & Noble. I was about ready to leave, as I didn’t find either of the books I was searching for, when he asked if I’m a Christian. The answer was a resounding “yes!”, but when he followed up asking what church I attended, I hesitated. “I’m between churches,” I eventually replied, an answer that had worked before, but one that didn’t settle right with this man. It didn’t settle right with me, either.

Am I so weak that I can’t say the word ‘Catholic’ out loud? I thought. But it wasn’t that. There was something about this man that told me he’d try to “convert” me. That if I uttered that “dirty” word, I’d hear all the arguments against Catholicism that I once believed myself. I’m no apologist. I don’t know enough yet to defend myself. And as we talked—and as he tried to get me to come to his church—I was mentally beating myself up, because here was an opportunity to test my faith and I’d failed.

But then I remembered a conversation I had with my priest. I’d been stressing over telling people of my conversion. I didn’t know what to say. And he’d replied, “It’s okay. Jesus didn’t tell everyone at first that he was the Messiah.”

And [Jesus] sternly charged him, and sent him away at once, and said to him, “See that you say nothing to any one…” —Mark 1:43–44

Jesus wasn’t ashamed of the miracle he’d performed for the leper, nor of his Godly heritage. But at that point, it wasn’t time to reveal himself. And this chance meeting in Barnes & Noble wasn’t my time, either. I’ve already been vocal about sharing my good news, with some people—but it’s not time to share with the entire world. Or with Evangelicals I bump into at the bookstore.

It’s okay, God said, in the silent way He does, settling the anxious pounding of my heart.

Next time, I’ll be better prepared. I’ll understand a little more. And with time, I won’t hesitate.

“I go to the Catholic Church.”