That Happy Catholic, Julie, has posted a wondrous meditation on conversion, quoting among others, the papal preacher, who says:

I was reading recently the story of the famous convert of the 19th century, Hermann Cohen,* a brilliant musician, idolized as a the young prodigy of his time in the salons of central Europe: a kind of modern version of the young Francis.

After his conversion he wrote to a friend: “I looked for happiness everywhere: in the elegant life of the salons, in the deafening noise of balls and parties, in accumulating money, in the excitement of gambling, in artistic glory, in friendship with famous people, in the pleasures of the senses. Now I have found happiness, I have an overflowing heart and I want to share it with you. … You say, ‘But I don’t believe in Jesus Christ.’ I say to you, ‘Neither did I and that is why I was unhappy.'”

Julie continues with her own take:

Sometimes people accuse me of not understanding the unhappiness, the sorrow, the rage that is going on in the world. Most recently, I was told to come out of my “trance.” It is not a trance. I live in the world right along with everyone else. The news, the blogs, my friends, the daily prayer list … it is impossible to ignore the evils and sorrows that daily life can bring.

Of course, I do not exude joy all the time … only the saints are close enough to God to be able to do that and I am so far away from being a saint. But today … today I feel that wonder and gratitude and joy once again for all I have been given … for my happiness, a happiness that sustains me through the bad and good, the happiness that is Christ in my life.

Reading all that, I was reminded of Francis Thompson’s classic ode to conversion and salvation, The Hound of Heaven with its beautiful opening lines:

I fled Him, down the nights and down the days;
I fled Him, down the arches of the years;
I fled Him, down the labyrinthine ways
Of my own mind; and in the mist of tears
I hid from Him, and under running laughter.
Up vistaed hopes I sped;
And shot, precipitated,
Adown Titanic glooms of chasmèd fears,
From those strong Feet that followed, followed after.
But with unhurrying chase,
And unperturbèd pace,
Deliberate speed, majestic instancy,
They beat — and a voice beat
More instant than the Feet —
“All things betray thee, who betrayest Me.”

Read Julie’s post, and share the joy of being a happy Catholic.

Image: “Woman Praying” by Willem de Poorter