Intro: Kim Tisor was reared in a Christian home that emphasized weekly attendance at their Southern Baptist Church. She remained a Baptist well into adulthood and was content to be one, until radio airwaves carrying Catholic teaching reached this Christian, music-playing DJ’s ears. It placed her on a journey of discovery that would ultimately lead her and her husband out of Protestantism and into the Catholic Church, taking their young children with them.  

I grew up in south western Kentucky where, not unlike most southern towns, there were more churches than library books.  It just so happens that we attended one of the largest churches located downtown on South Main Street.  First Baptist Church has been standing on the same corner since 1818 and is where my parents wed in 1964. It’s where I first learned about Jesus and his love for me.  It’s where I attended Vacation Bible School. 

It’s the church that sent me to my first summer camp where I accepted Christ as my personal Lord and Savior.  It’s also where my husband and I exchanged wedding vows more than 30 years after my parents did.  It’s where my mom still attends and my dad did too, until he passed away in 2014. The people there are like family.  I can assure you there was rarely a Sunday that we missed church while I was a kid and we were members at First Baptist.

The story throughout my teenage, college, and young adult years is fairly uneventful.  No falling away or crisis of faith to mention.  I remained in church and in God’s word and Christ remained in me.  As I see it, I am, and have always been, a pretty blessed gal.  So how did my heart and mind ever shift toward Rome?  It started with a prayer and gained momentum with a bumper sticker. 

My husband and I were living in Colorado Springs, CO and looking for a church home.  We visited no fewer than 20.  One thing I discovered was that there were many aspects to various forms of worship that spoke to me.  I liked singing the familiar old hymns.  I liked praise and worship songs.  I liked liturgy. I liked raising my hands (at times) and I liked silence. But then I thought to ask God, “What do you like?”

I began pondering what forms of worship God prefers.  Does He have a preference? Does God like all forms, so long as they’re sincere and from the heart?  I didn’t know the answer, so I asked Him to show me.

A couple years passed, kids came along, and I still had no answer to my question.  Instead, I had other questions.  All of a sudden whether or not to participate in Halloween festivities became an issue due to its pagan undertones.  If we concluded that it was wrong to parade our kids through the neighborhood dressed in costumes searching for candy, then trimming Christmas trees and hunting for Easter eggs would need to be eliminated as well, because they, too, contained traditions with pagan underpinnings. 

What to do? I sought the scriptures. I longed for nothing more than to please my Lord. But the verses I found weren’t explicit. Funny, at the time of my dilemma I literally thought it would be easier to be Catholic. At least the Catholics placed their trust in previous Popes’ decisions when designating Christian holidays. These weren’t, in my estimation, concerns that kept Catholics up at night.  

Several years passed and my children grew along with my list of questions. Sadly, because of my “on the fence” position regarding holidays, we hadn’t created any family traditions. It didn’t help matters that neither my husband nor I grew up with any traditions of our own from which to draw. But things were about to change.

To continue reading the whole strory, click here.


“Dudley and I met and married after we had both gone through divorces. We blended a family of eight children, so our life was full of excitement and difficulties.

“We had both been raised in Protestant churches and have families who serve the Lord according to their understanding of scriptural truth. We had little disagreement over our beliefs. Even though he was taught the doctrine “once-saved-always-saved” and I wasn’t, we studied the doctrine and concluded this was not the truth.

“We were both taught that miracles were not for today, that God never used supernatural gifts or events, and that there was a “great gulf” between the living saints and the dead saints.

“We were both taught that Catholics were doctrinally off base and to be pitied because they were generally not “born-again.”

“We went to several different churches and studied many other denominations, including Mormon, Jehovah’s Witness and a few splinter spin-offs of the charismatic non-denominational movement. Each time, after a great deal of study, I rejected these churches……”

For the whole story, click HERE


Follow Dustin through the phases of his life including Islam until he finally discovered the Catholic Church.

Maybe you’re like me (aside from being born with Cerebral Palsy and defying doctors’ pronouncements, by the grace of God, that I would be confined to a wheelchair and relegated to a vegetative state). Maybe you grew up in North America and lived a sheltered, comfortable life, and God was—although you would never say it, or consciously think it—there to do your bidding. You want a new pair of shoes? Ask God. Scared of an impending summer storm that could possibly turn into a tornado? Pray to God. Promise Him that, if this storm passes, and you and your family remain unscathed, you will try harder to be a “good person,” get to know Him more intimately, and go to church more often.

Well, those shoes you wanted? You got them. That storm you were afraid of, that could have destroyed your house and taken your family? It passed. Out of thankfulness, you kiss the gold cross around your neck. You go to church on holy days. And you even listen to your grandmother tell you about how Jesus has changed her life, and she couldn’t do life without Him, without His word. It sounds so foreign. If you were around other family members—much less friends—while she would bear witness to Jesus, you just . . . smiled . . . nervously, and tried not to be embarrassed. When I was a child, I reasoned as a child.

Maybe you’re like me. Maybe, when you entered college or university, a couple things happened: One, you were old enough to drink and go to bars with your buddies. Awesome. Two, the things you were taught about, well, everything, growing up—the things you took for granted about religion, history, life itself—began to be challenged. It was at this stage that I began to notice something: I was raised a “Christian.” North America was a “Christian” civilization.

How was it, that I, a Christian in a Christian county (Canada), could go to bars, even strip clubs, with a cross around my neck, with the aim of getting smashed, talking crudely about women, all while having no qualms about bragging that I had been saved. I was heaven-bound because Jesus died for me. I believed that. And that . . . was enough. (Or was it?) …

To listen to his story click here. To read the rest of his story, click here.

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